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rnelodyy · 3 years

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c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!tommy #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #i had a COMPLETELY different point that i wanted to make but then i thought about it and went w a i t #uhhh if you wanna hear my original point lemme know i guess #anyway c!dream is such an interesting character! i hate him!#little green bastard man #c!dream critical

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 14 - Haunt [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: It’s always difficult to keep secrets.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

Apparently this was how civilians dated.

You couldn’t exactly say you were very familiar with it. Your line of work didn’t exactly allow you to date and do normal couple stuff, let alone with a civilian. Spies were easier, you didn’t trust them and you knew they didn’t trust you.

Except for missions, you didn’t have any date nights unless they included going after targets.

That was why posing as a civilian was almost a relief. It was simpler, more fun, more peaceful-

Even happier.

“What do you mean you can’t give me a clue?” you asked, “It’s date night, you’re supposed to give me a clue. Those are the rules.”

“I don’t remember any rule like that.”

You slurped on the milkshake, dangling your legs back and forth on the high seat you were perched on.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear then?”

Bucky tilted his head, eyeing your uniform with a grin on his face and you slapped at his arm playfully.

“Are you serious?”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “I said nothing.”

“I refuse to believe you find this uniform hot.”

“Why?”

“Bucky, just look at this!”

“Believe it or not I’ve been looking at it for some time now.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”

“Oh trust me darling, I’m completely sincere.”

You raised your brows, “How?”

He heaved a sigh and looked like he was considering whether he should tell you or not while you waited patiently.

“When we were—“ he licked his lips, “When—uh, back in the 40s, one of my buddies, he had this poster on the wall of the barrack we were staying in.”

You gawked at him, “A poster of…?”

“A pin up.”

“In this uniform?”

“Almost the same, yeah.”

You let out a clear laugh, “Oh my God, that’s why you reacted like that when you first saw me in this?”

The tips of his ears went pink before he dragged his gaze from yours and you awwed.

“Then it’s only fair if I ask you to return the favor and dress up from 40s.”

“As if you know any—“

“Clark Gable.” You cut him off and scrunched up your face, “Was that too quick?”

“A little, yeah,�� he said, “Do you want to try again?”

“….Yes please.”

“As if you know anyone from those times.”

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, “I’m just pulling this idea out of thin air, but Clark Gable.”

“I don’t think I can pull off that mustache, Y/N.”

“I mean have you tried?” you asked, narrowing your eyes and he shook his head.

“Stop imagining me with that mustache.”

“You would look good!” you insisted, grinning mischievously and he heaved a sigh.

“Clark Gable? Seriously?”

“Bucky, I’m the one who’s dressed up like a pin up your buddies used to fantasize about, so I feel like you should give me some credit here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why thank you,” you pointed out, “So? Where are we going?”

“You can ask as much as you want,” Bucky grinned, “It’s not going to work.”

You threw your head back, letting out a whine. “But I want to know!” you said, “Okay, is it inside or outside?”

“Outside.”

“A concert!”

“Not a concert.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “…Flea market. You’re taking me to the flea market.”

He pulled his brows together, confusion written all over his face, “You think we used to go to flea markets on a date?”

“Picnic!”

“In the evening?” he asked and you pouted.

“It would be a romantic evening picnic.”

“Do you want to have a romantic evening picnic?”

You shook your head fervently, “I want whatever you have planned!”

“Nah, I’m putting romantic evening picnic on the list.”

“You have a list?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yep.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

You huffed out, making him laugh, “Aw, you’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”

“Bucky!” you whined again, making his smile bigger.

“Yes darling?”

“It’s not fair,” you insisted but before you could say anything else, you heard Tara’s voice.

“Hey lovebirds,” she said, “I hate to interrupt because you two make a beautiful couple, but your break is almost over and I’m going to need some help at the freezer.”

Bucky’s body tensed up beside yours but only for a second, and you pressed your lips together.

Right. Freezer probably didn’t bring up good memories.

“I can help if you want?” Bucky said slowly and you shook your head.

“Nope. Company policy, only staff can go in.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips, “What time will you pick me up?”

“Around 8:30.” He stole another kiss from you and stood up, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight!”

“Have a nice day Tara.”

“You too Romeo,” Tara said as he left the shop and you followed her to the freezer.

“He is so whipped,” she commented, making you grin, “And so are you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Hey!” you said as you helped her with the chocolate milkshake container, “Not nice!”

“I can already picture how cute your children will be.”

You almost dropped the container at the mention but managed to catch it and pull yourself together.

“Oh I don’t think…” you trailed off, trying to ignore the pang at the pit of your stomach, “I don’t think he wants—um, I don’t think we—“

“Aw you really are cute,” Tara said, “Come on now. Are you telling me you never thought about a future with him?”

The image that flashed in front of your eyes was almost taunting you but you bit inside your cheek, then shook your head.

“My last relationship ended really badly,” you explained, “And Bucky has had a rough couple of….”

Decades.

“Years,” you said, “And everything is pretty complicated, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Well, do you want it to be possible?”

You pushed your hair back and grabbed the nearest set of jars to put them on the shelf one by one, just so you could keep yourself busy.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” you heard yourself say, “It won’t make any difference in the future either.”

***

“A funfair,” Chloe looked up with a bright smile on her face as soon as you jumped up to sit on her desk. “He’s taking you to a funfair.”

“Wait, really?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s cute.”

“Who knew The Winter Soldier could be romantic?” she said, “I’d probably swoon if someone took me to a funfair.”

You could swear Keith appeared out of thin air behind you, “What?”

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed and pressed a hand over your chest, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Who’s swooning?”

“Barnes is taking Y/N to a funfair,” Chloe said, “Isn’t that romantic?”

“You find funfairs romantic?”

“Yeah!”

“Keith,” you raised your brows, “Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope, General is talking to Julian so I’m not busy at all.”

You heaved a sigh, “My meeting with him lasted like an hour, how did he let you go so fast?”

“Easy. I’m not the team leader.”

You sipped your coffee, crossing your legs and Keith grinned.

“So, did you tell her yet?”

Chloe frowned, “Did she tell me what yet?”

“Why Barnes stayed over at your place until midnight last night?”

“Y/N!” Chloe gasped, “You promised we would go lingerie shopping before you slept with him!”

“First of all, I didn’t sleep with him, and second of all, Keith nosey neighbor much?”

“It’s literally my job Y/N.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked, barely able to sit straight as Julian walked past you three to check his laptop on an empty desk near Chloe’s. You gritted your teeth, and turned to Chloe.

“Hm?”

“You have to tell us!” she said and Keith laughed.

“At least give us a base.”

“Second base?” Chloe offered and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Julian clenching his jaw.

“Nah no way,” Keith said, “The guy hasn’t been getting laid since what? 40s? Third base.”

No bases. None at all, Bucky was a gentleman and seeing that you were quite shaken up last night, he had just held you while you two watched that ridiculous action movie until you could calm down a little.

He hadn’t even asked any questions.

“Do you think he—“

“Y/N,” Julian’s voice cut through Chloe’s, “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

You pulled your brows together, “About what?”

“The mission.”

You eyed him up and down, then shrugged your shoulders and made your way to the nearest empty room, which happened to be a meeting room. He followed you inside and closed the door behind him as you turned around to look at him, already dreading this conversation.

“So?”

“So General agrees with me.”

Your head shot up, “I beg your pardon?”

“He agrees that it was quick thinking on my part when Barnes walked in on us arguing,” he said, making you grit your teeth, “Granted it wasn’t idea, but we can turn it around to work on our advantage—“

“Bullshit,” you cut him off, “Are you serious?”

“To repeat, an ex-boyfriend creates an environment of competition,” he said, making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Unbelievable,” you said, “You know, just because General doesn’t see through this whole façade doesn’t mean you fool everyone else in here.”

“What façade?”

“Oh give me a break!” you let out a humorless laugh, “This whole teammate trying to be helpful bullshit. You don’t think anyone but yourself, you’ve proven you can’t be trusted and you want to take over this mission.”

“I couldn’t take over this mission if I tried,” he pointed out “I’m not Barnes’ type.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh look at you, you got jokes now.”

“Just saying, I wouldn’t look as cute in that uniform.”

“Fuck you.”

“Y/N—“

“You’re not taking over my mission.”

“I’m not trying to take over your mission,” he explained patiently, “I’m trying to help you, is that so hard to believe?”

“I think we both know you couldn’t care less about me,” you said, “As that last mission proved.”

The amused, taunting light in his eyes was dimmed in a second as he gawked at you, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What?” he asked after a beat, “You think I don’t care about you?”

You let out a laugh, “I’m sorry, is that a trick question?” you asked, “You sure as hell didn’t care back then.”

He ran a hand over his face, “I think you and I remember that last mission quite differently,” he said, “I did what I had to do—“

“Uh huh.”

“I thought you would do the same,” he insisted, “Y/N, I was trying to get us out of there, just because I beat you to it—“

“I would never!” you snapped at him and he shook his head.

“Have you ever thought maybe that’s a problem?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think the General put me into this mission?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Are we going to pretend you’re here to do something else other than spying on me and reporting it back?”

“No, that’s not my mission,” he said, “I’m here to make sure you don’t do what you always do.”

“What, nailing the mission?”

“Running headfirst into danger,” he said, “You ran into world’s most dangerous assassin whom you’re playing the honeypot for, and any other spy would get the fuck out of there but what did you do? You taunted him. Twice.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I know Bucky better than you or the General—“

“You mean the Winter Soldier?”

“…Yeah,” you corrected yourself, “Yeah I know the Winter Soldier better than you two do. Better than anyone here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but not your every decision is right on missions. You keep taking unnecessary risks because you think it’s fun.”

“Maybe. But hey, at least I don’t leave people to die.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and he closed his eyes for a moment as if it was way too difficult for him to hear and opened them again.

“I didn’t leave you to die, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “Alright,” you said, walking to the door, “We’re done here—“

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Your hand on the doorknob froze and you looked over your shoulder, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you sleeping with Barnes?”

“Who wants to know?” you asked, “You or the General?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah. If it’s you, I can ask why it’s any of your business.”

He shifted his weight, suddenly dragging his gaze from yours.

“I just…” he murmured, “I don’t like it.”

You paused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around the idea before you clicked your tongue.

“Well that’s a relief,” you stated, “I don’t give a fuck what you like.”

With that, you swung open the door and left the meeting room, not even looking back once.

***

In your defense, when you went to bed for a nap you didn’t think that 15 minute nap would turn into a whole two hours. You were still groggy by the time you woke up and your hair was a mess and you still had no idea what to wear and—

You were starving and way too thirsty.

You stretched out as you walked to the kitchen, still trying to pull yourself together but it was already dark outside so it was making things even worse. You flipped the switch and opened the fridge to grab the water bottle, uncapping it and taking big gulps. After you were done, you took out two slices of bread and peanut butter and jam, then quickly made a sandwich to take a bite. Leaning back, you let out a sigh and eyed the gun on the table.

You had a feeling the General would send you on another night mission soon.

You took another bite of your sandwich but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring and you almost dropped the water bottle but caught it mid-air.

“Shit…” you whispered and grabbed the gun to put it in the kitchen cabinet, and placed the sandwich on the plate, then made your way to the door to open it.

A fond smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as he took in your disheveled appearance, “Hello there Dracula.”

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to fix your hair, “I…I was taking a nap and then I didn’t hear my alarm and—“

“Don’t worry about it darling,” he said, “You look beautiful.”

“I look like a mess,” you corrected him, scrunching up your nose and stepped aside so that he could walk in. He pulled you closer to peck you on the lips.

��Hi.”

“Hi back,” you smiled up at him and made your way to the kitchen with him following you suit.

“I’m just going to finish this and then I’ll get ready in like ten minutes, promise!”

“Not a problem,” he said as you jumped up to sit on the counter, dangling your legs, “If you want to stay in tonight—“

“No no!” you interrupted him, “I want to go to…um, wherever it is we’re going. Do you want some?” you held up the sandwich, “I could make you one too.”

Bucky stepped closer to you to take a bite of your sandwich, making you giggle.

“I mean do you want your own?”

“You’re not good with sharing?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still smiling as he put his palms on the counter either side of your legs, caging you in.

“No?”

“Nuh uh.” You said, then leaned in to peck him on the lips again before you pulled back to take a bite out of your sandwich.

“How was your day?” you asked, and he heaved a sigh.

“Mm, uneventful.”

“Uneventful can be a nice change.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah I mean…at least your ex doesn’t show up out of nowhere,” you paused for a moment, “Or in your case, doesn’t escape from nursing home.”

He chuckled, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your legs, making you distracted for a moment as the warmth filled you again.

“Did he visit you again?”

You tried to focus and looked up at him, “Hm?”

“Julian.”

“Oh,” you made a face and shook your head, “No. No but something tells me that wasn’t the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” he said, “I still feel like the next time he shows up you should let me know so that I can—“

“I already know what you’re going to say, and no.”

“What was I going to say?”

“Some macho showdown nonsense,” you said with a laugh, “Seriously. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he said with a sigh, “But the guy said and I quote, he would take you away from me, so forgive me if I want to have a talk with him.”

You rolled your eyes, “No one is taking anyone from anyone,” you said, “Number one, we don’t live in Stone Age. Number two, I’m quite happy with who I am dating now.”

A small smile curled his lips, “Are you?”

“I mean,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “I would be happier if my date told me where we’re going but can’t win ‘em all.”

You pressed a kiss on his cheek and jumped down.

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes, knock yourself out,” you said, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said and you walked to your bedroom to open your closet, then grabbed a dress and put it on. After quickly doing your make up, you found the lipstick you were looking for and started applying it.

“Darling do you have a bottle opener?”

“Yes, it’s in the kitchen cabinet!” you called out and checked your reflection in the mirror before your mind caught up to what you had just said. Panic crashed into you, knocking the breath out of you and you dropped the lipstick to rush to the kitchen.

“Bucky wait—“ you started but as soon as you saw the open cabinet, your stomach dropped. He looked at you over his shoulder with a frown on his face, then turned around and held up your gun, making you swallow thickly.

“So,” he said, his gaze pinning you to your spot. “Anything you would like to tell me?”

Chapter 15

#bucky barnes #tfatws #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Tom Hiddleston - Stripped Sunday

A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.

Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+

Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.

It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.

So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.

In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.

However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.

Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.

Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.

You aren’t so lucky.

—

Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.

Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.

“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.

Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”

You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.

“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.

Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.

Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.

That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.

You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.

“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.

Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”

You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.

You sniffle a little, “Really?”

Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.

“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”

How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?

Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.

—

You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.

The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.

He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.

“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.

That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.

“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”

You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”

“SHIT!”

Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.

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serpent-of-the-silver-plumes · 3 years

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would you mind talking more about bart and unreliable narration? I always hear people say unreliable narration but I've never seen any concrete examples from media I actually consume so I'd love your thoughts

Oh absolutely!! I actually wrote a thing about this a while back but then went 'this is not well written' and it got buried in my drafts, so I’m glad to have an excuse to pull that up and rewrite it. (Also sorry, this got really long.)

Basically, at one point I was listening to a podcast (Be the Serpent, ep 4), and they categorize different kinds of unreliable narrators into three types: the narrator who knows they are lying to you, the narrator who is lying to themself (and therefore you), and the narrator who is lying because they are missing some key information. I would argue that the three main pov characters of the Bartimaeus Trilogy each represent a different type of these unreliable narrators.

Going in backwards order, Kitty is the narrator who lies because she is missing some key information, at least until the third book. As a commoner, even one who is part of a resistance movement, her knowledge of magic is extremely limited and biased. Were we to go off of her point of view alone, we would get an inaccurate view of this world and the power dynamics that exist within it: that magicians are somehow special in holding magic and that they have evil demons who work alongside them in shared mischief/hunger for power/whatever.

However, because the books include other points of view, the full impact of that unreliability is not realized.

Similarly, Nathaniel lies to himself, especially in the later books. He ignores how much he personally contributes to upholding a system that depends on the oppression and slavery of other sentient beings, and squashes down the last traces of his moral compass. I don’t think he ever really questions the system of government or if it should be there and work the way it does.

To some extent, we do see through his unreliability as well, because Bartimaeus is around to keep a check on him and tell the reader that no, the magicians and their imperialism are bad, that spirits have very good reason to hate humans, and give us other world building details that contradict what Nathaniel believes.

But some of it is about what is going on inside Nathaniel’s own head, so there is also a lot that can’t be fully seen by an outside perspective that has to be assumed by the reader. Like he will deny the sentimental feelings he has towards Ms. Underwood and the guilt he had over Kitty’s supposed death and the fact that he even remotely cares about Bartimaeus, but actions speak louder than words.

Because both of these characters’ unreliability stem from a lack of understanding, having other perspectives in the book in some ways cancels out their unreliability, and actually ties their unreliability more to their character development than as a plot/narration device. Kitty grows more reliable throughout the series while Nathaniel gets less so until the end. This doesn’t make that unreliability useless though, especially in a series aimed for children. By getting each character’s point of view, we can see where they are coming from and how the knowledge and views they have affect the way they act, but there is also someone else to point out how they are wrong, to make you question how true what each individual says is.

Bartimaeus is entirely different from the first two characters. His narration is told in first person, unlike Nathaniel and Kitty’s third person. He talks directly to the reader and goes off on tangential footnotes that are not necessarily part of the events currently happening in the story. Because of this narration style, he also has the power to lie more directly to the reader than any of the other characters.

Given his life, it is understandable how he has gotten into the habit of lying. Every moment of his existence on Earth is spent under the power of someone else, so he lies in order to protect himself. There are some instances where he lies to his masters in order to escape punishment or to lead them into danger so he can be set free, but he also lies about his feelings because he cannot afford to be emotionally vulnerable.

For the most part, I think it can be assumed that the dialogue and most actions that happen in his pov chapters are told as they are, since much of that lines up with what goes on in the other characters’ perspectives, and also there are at least a few things that show him in a less-than-flattering light that he would probably leave out or change if he could. Instead, the lies he tells are largely about his past and his emotions, often done through exaggeration or omission, and cannot be collaborated by others.

When lying about his past, Bartimaeus frequently exaggerates his prestige and role in history. In Ptolemy’s Gate, Bartimaeus says that he talked to King Solomon about Faquarl’s tendency to brag about his historical importance. Even beyond the obvious irony, in the prequel we see Bartimaeus’s time at Solomon’s court, and while it isn’t technically impossible for him to have talked to Solomon about Faquarl, the timing and circumstances make it extremely unlikely. Although his other stories cannot be proven or disproven with what we know, this instance and his general tendency to brag outrageously makes it very likely that Bartimaeus at the very least embellishes.

However, despite being super showy about his past, Bartimaeus doesn’t actually include much important information. He very rarely talks about his great feats as a thief or assassin or anything else. When he lists his accomplishments, he describes building walls and talking to important historical figures. There’s a post somewhere (if I find it, I’ll link it) that explains this as being a way for Bartimaeus to try to take control of his reputation and therefore his life; by associating with safer jobs, he is less likely to be summoned for very dangerous and morally reprehensible jobs.

He does generally try to portray himself as clever and collected and just generally more cool than he actually is. There’s a moment at the end of the first book where he describes himself as trying to calm Nathaniel who is freaking out, and then the next chapter is from Nathaniel’s pov which describes him as being the calmer one while Bartimaeus is a fly anxiously buzzing around.

I don’t remember the exact line, but in the second book there’s an exchange that goes something like this:

“____” I said calmly.

“Stop your whimpering,” Kitty said.

The way Bartimaeus portrays himself is straight up contradicted by the more factual account of the words and actions of someone else. And presumably there are plenty of other times that we do not see contradictory evidence where Bartimaeus straight up lies about how he is reacting to something.

But one of Bartimaeus’s most unreliable points centers around humans. Throughout the books, he constantly talks about the ways he has killed and would like to kill his masters, if given the opportunity. Nathaniel is an exception, one that Bartimaeus does admit to the reader, but even in the third book when he talks the most about how he would kill Nathaniel or even join a demon rebellion if Faquarl offered right then and there, Bartimaeus does not actually follow through on these threats when he gets the chance. Despite all of his talk about how much he hates humans, Bartimaeus has as much of a positive relationship he can have with as many humans possible, given the circumstances.

A lot of his unreliability centers around Ptolemy, which is what some of Bartimaeus’s biggest lies of omission are about. In the first book, we do get the sense that Bartimaeus has a soft spot for at least some humans. His excuses of saving and looking after Nathaniel in order to avoid Indefinite Confinement, while likely not entirely false, do fall a bit flat. We even get a mention of “a boy I had known once before, someone I had loved.” Although this is not explicitly connected to Ptolemy at this point, mentions of brown skin and the Nile make a pretty obvious connection to Ptolemy, especially as Bartimaeus describes taking on Ptolemy’s form several times later on. There is a less obvious hint too, “I sat on the ground, cross-legged, the way Ptolemy used to do.” Even without knowing much about what kind of relationship Bartimaeus had with Ptolemy, that kind of detail shows ‘a devotion to detail that could only come with genuine affection, or perhaps even love.’

It isn’t until the third book until we learn anything substantial about his relationship with Ptolemy, and even then he doesn’t tell the whole story. The fandom jokes about how Bartimaeus just casually mentions in a foot note that he prefers a lioness form because the manes are annoying, and it’s not until the flashback that you find out that the mane is part of what got Ptolemy killed. And even with the flashbacks, you still never see the time that Ptolemy visited the Other Place.

There are a lot of posts on this site that talk about how Bartimaeus absolutely was idealizing Ptolemy, and how there’s some evidence that he isn’t the perfectly sweet never-did-anything-wrong innocent child that Bartimaeus describes him as (notably that part where he was vaguely annoyed that people kept coming to him to ask for help and interrupted his research). Not that Ptolemy secretly sucks or anything, but it’s really easy to let nostalgia skip over the less dramatic details of Ptolemy being an actual human being with flaws.

In summary, I would argue that all of the trilogy protagonists are unreliable narrators to varying extents, and Jonathan Stroud is a genius for how he manages to make it all work.

#bartimaeus #nathaniel #ptolemy #kitty jones #my post #kitty #unreliable narrator

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again. “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop? How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him. “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled. “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked. “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly. “I promise that’s not why I hired him. I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained. “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded. “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm. “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment. He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie. “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully. “You think so?”

“Totally. You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter. Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer. The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights. “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress. You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.

Seeing him always made your heart stop. At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much. Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered. But since the break-up, and now, it was something else. Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him. It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once. Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang. Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing. The first time you said ‘I love you.’ The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe? And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early. Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then? And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered. “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go. He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil. “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod. “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes. Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had. “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips. Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked. It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky. “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are. The way we are. And neither is your new guy. He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he? He doesn’t get what it’s like. Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it. “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm. “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned. “It’s always about other people with you. It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us. You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head. “I was single for years and you never called. Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it? Get a grip, Sam. This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously. “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest. “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body. He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped. “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow. He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine. Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing.

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby? Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants. “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him. “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time. It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it? Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway? Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally. He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak. He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused. "What did I do? Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock. "Do you really not realize what you did? Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed. "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?! I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?! Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you? Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What? What do I think?" you challenged. "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her? Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something? Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously. His fist tightened at his side involuntarily. He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you. "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly. "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up? Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back. He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you. All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist. When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut

691 notes · View notes

zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

Envy

EreMika is the villa’s top couple. Reader is hoping to turn one of their heads.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Mikasa Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Contains: 18+ characters, a good ol' fashioned love triangle, possessive behaviour, dom/sub dynamics, lil angst + lotsa pining, threesome, the sex is kinda messy but so is everything else

Word count: 10.5k (yes it's proofread but it's also kinda not)

Notes: For @doinmybesthere’s love island collab! happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈

Lush, mediterranean forests, thick with leaves and the wonder of adventure hidden inside.

Snow white, sandy beaches

Cerulean waters that sparkle in the sunlight and stretch to the edge of the horizon

The view from the infinity pool really is magnificent.

“You and Armin look good together.”

“You think so?” You murmur nonchalantly. The dark shades that cover your eyes dim your surroundings, making it all the more easy for you to see the brilliant figure in front of you.

“You don’t?” Mikasa cocks her head to the side, jet black bangs sweeping across her forehead.

“Armin’s a great guy. He’s my type on paper but… I dunno… I guess I wanna keep my options open.” You chew on your bottom lip, hoping she’ll change the subject. You can’t help the guilt that sits heavy on your heart.

The ‘you’ on the outside would never do something like this. Lead on some poor, innocent soul so you can stay close to the true object of your affections, biding your time until you can confess. Only when you’re certain that said love interest is free to be yours.

“Well, I still think you should lock him down before the recoupling. I don’t want you to get sent home.” Her gentle voice chases away any shame, kind eyes reminding you how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Oh you’d miss me?” You adjust your sunglasses, propping them atop your head, slowly wading towards her

“Of course you idiot.” She deadpans, kicking at the water, splashing in your face a little. You squeak in surprise and retreat a little. “You’re my best friend in the villa.”

If guilt is gnawing at you from one end, on the other end is bitterness, frustration slowly building towards a fever pitch.

Still, you don’t want to think about that now. You’ll only sour this moment for yourself. It’s rare that you get her full attention like this these days.

In the beginning, you two were inseparable almost from the jump. Both of you were a little more on the reserved side, especially stepping into such unusual circumstances. Naturally, you gravitated toward each other. Simply being in each other’s presence was enough to bring both of you out of your respective shells. That was the chemistry between you and Mikasa.

But when he dug his claws into her, your crush became one half of the strongest couple in the villa, leaving you behind to bury your own feelings.

Normally he’s stuck to her like a leech with his arms hanging around her like chains as if he’s afraid she’ll make a break for it any second. Like he’s afraid she’ll realise she’s too good to be catering to his every whim, too good to put up with his moodiness and too smart to fall for his charming front.

“Are you hoping someone new will come into the villa?” Someone ‘more your type’?” She uses air quotations to copy your words.

“Not exactly.” You start, distracted by the way she adjusts her bikini top, the soft flesh bouncing ever so slightly underneath her red bikini. The skin on her nose and on the apples of her cheeks are branded a similar shade thanks to the summer sun.

Your heart thrums against the ungiving wall of your chest, as you drift slowly towards her again, this time until you’re so close you feel her feet, drifting underwater at your waist. “I already have my eye on someone.” You answer as truthfully as possible.

“Are you gonna tell me who?” She furrows her brows curiously as you wrap your fingers around her ankles, slowly moving them up to rest on her calves. You use the position to pull yourself closer to her, until your chin rests on her knees. She leans down, as though she expects you to whisper the name of your crush into her ear.

You press yourself on to tip toes, to meet her halfway. Time seems to slow as you try to figure out what to do.

Lie? Confess? Kiss her?

But time doesn’t slow and-

SPLASH

You don’t get a chance to respond after your moment is ruined with an icy splash from behind you.

“Fucking hell!” You scream swatting water in his direction.

Right on cue.

“Eren what the fuck!” Mikasa scowls at him, clearly not amused either.

“I was just messing with you guys.” The sound of his cheery laugh may as well be nails on a chalkboard to you. “Sorry babe.” He pouts.

He takes up your spot by nudging you out of the way ever so subtly. Except it’s not really subtle. Not to you anyways. It’s pretty reminiscent of when he pushed you to the side when the two of them got together. He’s telling you to remember your place.

“Grow up Jaeger.” You roll your eyes.

With his arrival, discomfort sets into your bones. She accepts his apology almost instantly as always, easily placated with simple kisses. Innocent enough at first, starting over her knees but bit by bit his lips move further and further up her thigh, until she’s pushing him away murmuring “Not here.” As if he cared…

Watching them together, the picture of lovestruck, from a distance is nauseating enough, today you don’t have the willpower to experience it firsthand as a third wheel.

You’re about to excuse yourself when you hear Sasha yell from the opposite end of the pool. “Hey guys! I’ve got a text!”

Everyone shuffles closer, awaiting the message with quiet apprehension. When Sasha opens the message she gasps before reading it, making everyone’s anxiety grow tenfold.

“You don’t have to be a math genius to know that 1+1+1 = a crowd. It’s time to simplify the equation. Eren and ______ , get ready for a date! #LoveTriangle”

All eyes are on you in an instant and you resist the urge to duck down under the water to hide from the cameras. You wonder briefly if it would be easier to breathe down there, rather than up here where the tension is suffocating. Your fellow islanders are murmuring amongst each other but the words are indiscernible, muffled by the blood rushing to your head, face burning hot with embarrassment.

Everyone around you is wearing variations of the same expression; confusion. Sure they all had theories about you and Mikasa. Not that you were exactly subtle about it. Often touches that would linger for just a little bit too long, you would always lean in just a little too close when helping her with her makeup and many a time you’d been caught staring at her from afar. It’s just a little too intimate to be completely platonic but not intimate enough to be considered anything but a friendship. Then again, you never even had a chance to take it further because the only person who didn’t seem to notice was the ever oblivious Mikasa, not when she couldn’t see past the brunette boy with the striking jade eyes.

Now, looking at those very eyes you notice how they’ve lost their usual playfulness. As the exception to the bewildered expressions around you, he looks cold and unreadable. Then the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes but big enough for him to flash his sharp white canines at you.

Mikasa has her eyes fixed to her hands in her lap, picking at her nails (a nervous habit she once told you). She refuses to look at neither you nor Eren.

You want to explain but the right words are nowhere to be found. Right here and now, in front of everyone (including the person she’s currently coupled up with) is not how you wanted her to find out. But you have to say something, anything to take away the melancholy that is so obviously weighing her down, but the words are stuck in your throat and before you can swallow that lump, he interjects.

“I wanna talk to Mikasa real quick.” He addresses you directly. “Why don’t you go ahead and get ready?” He phrases it as a suggestion but it’s more of an order. And just like that, your emotions flip to irritation. Who is he to tell you what to do? Even now, he wants a monopoly of her time and attention. As if your relationship (even just as a friend) might not also be damaged because of this.

And it’s not fair. You have to speak to her as well. You need to tell her that-

“It’s fine.” Her mouth pulls into a tight smile, being mindful of the cameras. It’s obviously not genuine, you can tell but you also know that she’s not one to show her true feelings, especially not publicly like this. But this feels too much for her and that brave face has never been more transparent.

Still, her slate gray irises meet yours. “I’ll be inside to help you get ready in a minute.”

You give an equally artificial smile and then swim across to the other side of the pool, where Sasha lends you her hand to pull you out of the water.

The car ride was awkward at best, insufferable at worst. You and Eren weren’t on friendly terms to begin with. Aside from the fact that he was coupled up with your crush, it was safe to say that being alone with him is not something you would ever have done willingly.

Where you found him loud and obnoxious, Mikasa found him excitable and bubbly. Where you saw him as stubborn, Mikasa saw him as driven and headstrong. Where you thought him impulsive and reckless, Mikasa thought him brave and spontaneous. When you said that he was rude and crass, Mikasa would say he was opinionated and outspoken.

It wasn’t as though she couldn’t see the bad sides of Eren but it was that she cared for him in spite of those things. Loyal to a fault she was. You let out a heavy sigh, thinking how much worse that makes all this. She must feel as though the loyalty she felt towards both you and Eren had been spat back into her face.

Silently you stare out the window, head turned away from him. A rare moment when you don’t feel the presence of camera lenses watching your every move.

Your brain is constantly replaying the last conversation you had with Mikasa. True to her word, she did help you choose an outfit and style your hair. But that natural comfort was gone.

No. That’s not true. The bond may be strained but it’s not broken. You can still do something to fix it. But neither of you were willing to address the elephant in the room.

Well, that's not exactly it.

It’s that neither of you knew how to.

Stood in front of the full length mirror, you took one last look at yourself, smoothing out the front of your sundress, but caught her sad gaze in the reflection behind you.

“Hey ____. Earlier, when you said you had your eye on someone. Were you talking about Eren?” Her voice was hushed but you feel it in your viscera, like a sharp kick that leaves you winded

You know what she’s thinking. What everyone is thinking. That you were going to swoop in and steal your best friend’s partner. And you can’t blame her because that’s exactly what it looks like.

But you didn’t betray her, you would never.

You want her. Not him.

It’s almost as though you’ll never get a chance to set the record straight. Before you could even try you were being shooed out the door.

Now at the table, you fiddle with the stem of your glass, resisting your body’s command to down the whole thing. Sitting here in silence with him for 2 hours may as well be torture if you were completely sober but it sure as hell would be better than talking to him.

Eren doesn’t seem to share your sentiments and is the first to break the silence.

“I know you don’t like me.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. “All this bullshit about a love triangle is ‘cause you like my girlfriend. Right?”

He flashes you his signature cocky smirk, one of the many things about Eren Jaeger that seem to irk you to no end.

“I mean she’s technically not your girlfriend.” You say as a feeble retort.

You are right. She’s not his girlfriend because he’s never asked her. Life in the villa was harsh like that. If your relationship wasn’t official, anyone was fair game. Really the only thing that had stopped you from making your move was the painful gnaw of your insecurity. The deep-rooted belief that she would never choose you over him. Just the idea of public rejection, in front of your friends, family and god-knows how many other people, puts the bitter taste of bile in your mouth.

“Like that fucking matters.” He leans back in his chair, long legs spread wide. At least you didn’t bother denying it, he thinks. But why would you, Eren is many things but he isn’t stupid. The way you stare at Mikasa all dreamy eyed, following her around like a stray puppy. When you two are together, he doesn’t like how you sit so close, always whispering and giggling at god knows what. You’re entirely too comfortable, letting her lay her head in your lap while you play with her hair. Small things like that add up, it’s not hard to fingers out what you true intentions are.

He’s not jealous. He’s not. Why would he be jealous of someone who doesn’t even have the balls to go after what they want? You just… bother him. You could have your pick of literally anyone in the villa but no. Instead, you’re always hovering around, waiting for him to fuck up so you can play the role of comforting best friend.

“What’s wrong?” Extra bravado backs your voice. You know this act. He’s trying to intimidate you. You always thought Eren saw himself as untouchable but the way his jaw ticks makes you wonder for a brief moment, is he threatened by you?

“Scared of a little competition? I think you’re on the wrong show.”

“Oh please.” He scoffs before picking up his glass again. “You’re no competition sweetheart.”

“Famous last words.” You hum condescendingly, before bringing your fork to your mouth, letting the food pass your lips.

He clenches his jaw tighter. Being able to push his buttons in this way is something you’re very proud of right now.

He lets out a deep exhale through his nose and says. “You know. I actually had my eye on you in the beginning.”

The bite of food seems to lodge itself in your throat, eyes bugging out of your head. You cough and sputter, quickly gulping down your drink to try and move the lump into your stomach.

“Surprised?” His voice takes on a much deeper tone.

You don’t reply, too busy fumbling for a napkin to wipe down the edges of your mouth so he continues. “Yeah. You’re hot, obviously. But also real feisty. Fun to tease and ease to get a rise out of. My type. But Mikasa…. I could tell she wanted me from the start and if I wanted to stay in this competition, I couldn’t waste any time grafting on someone who was playing so hard to get.”

“So this is all a game to you then?” You say through gritted teeth, both hands squeezing tightly around the cutlery you’re holding. All your anger is bundled up by a thin thread, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

“I think you’re a little confused. Isn’t that exactly what this is?” He rests his chin on his palm, wearing that same chilling smile from earlier.

“You’re a real piece of shit. You know that?” You don’t want to lose your temper. Doing that means that you’ve given the upper hand back to him. Too bad you’re doing a terrible job of keeping it under control.

“Oh come on.” He laughs as if any of this is funny. “Its not like I’m leading her on.” Sharp as a dagger, those words jab themselves right in your gut. They’re a painful reminder that you don’t deserve to take the moral high ground. Thinking about what you’ve done to Armin, you may even be worse than he is.

“If I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t be bringing her tea in the morning, or making sure she ate.” Eren leans across the table, voice low and gravely. “Or making her cream all over my fingers every night while you and everyone else are fast asleep.”

You pick up the wine glass with the intention of covering his smarmy face in the blood red liquid.

Eren quirks brow at you, watching and waiting to see if you have the nerve. Because he knows that you don’t. If you did, you would have told Mikasa how you feel already. If you did, you would haven’t have latched on to the sweetest person in the villa as a fail safe. If you did, his pristine white shirt would have been stained burgundy by now.

Eren thinks you’re a coward and there’s nothing he hates more than that.

“Could have been you.” He sits back again. “Sorry I beat you to it.”

Your reception upon return to the villa is fairly mixed. Everyone is already dolled up with a drink in hand, the party in full swing.

Some people are glad to see you guys back, eagerly asking questions about the date. They might be genuinely curious as to how it went, interested in the development of new relationships or the survival of the villa’s power couple in the face of this challenge

Or they might just be in it for the drama, looking for gossip fodder. Wanting to know the details so they can go to the confessional booth and talk about how terrible of a person you are and how they would “never do anything like that to a friend”.

Other people greet you with disdain, people who would have been friendly with you mere hours ago. Armin is well liked in the villa, boyishly handsome with a kind heart. He’s a bit of a flirt at times but has never done anything with bad intentions. Of course everyone is fond of him. It’s only natural that you would look like the villain for stringing him along all this time, while he was developing genuine feelings for you.

Armin himself was angry of course, but it’s nothing if not deserved. You thought he would rage at you, call you selfish and cruel but he didn’t. Because Armin is a better person than you. You wanted to explain to him that you never meant to hurt him, but that wouldn’t mean anything because you did. In fact it would probably upset him more to hear that he was just an accidental casualty. A meek “I’m sorry” was the best you could offer. A nod and an impassive expression is all he offered in return, walking away to join Jean and some others on the daybed.

As for your date, you can feel his glare from all the way behind you as you make your way across the lawn to the bar. Mikasa is sitting on one of the stools with Sasha.

“Hey.” You interrupt Sasha’s animated chatter.

“Oh hey.” She turns to face you. While you’ve been gone she’s had time to build her defences up again, appearing stunningly neutral, not a hint of listlessness she couldn’t hide earlier. “How was the date?”

The first thing you think is She looks gorgeous tonight. But she always does.

The second thing you think is It’s time to grow a pair. Now or never.

You can still remember the sad look in her eyes from this afternoon. The thought still has your heart sitting in the pit of your stomach. The idea that it was a hurt you caused makes you want to throw it back up.

“It was…” You pause to find the right word. “Fine.” you decide on. You could have lied and said it was good but that’s probably not what she wants to hear. You could have been honest and said you would have had a better time removing your own wisdom teeth with a butter knife but that’s not the point. The date was irrelevant anyways, simple misunderstanding that you need to clear up right now. “But actually, I was wondering if I could pull you for a chat?”

Sasha hops off her chair, wobbling a bit as she lands. “Why don’t you guys stay here? I'm gonna go find Connie.” She places her hand on your shoulder, her own way of giving you a little courage.

You mouth a thank you that she meets with a wink before leaving.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the front of your dress, taking the seat across from her. Your mouth is dry and once again you can’t find the words to tell her how you feel.

Why can’t you just say it?

“So Armin is pretty mad at me. I’ll probably crash on the daybed tonight.”

You colossal idiot! You scream internally.

Once again you’re dancing around what you truly want to say.

Mikasa digs her clipped fingernails into her palm, struggling to keep her emotions at bay, dam threatening to break at any second. After everything, that’s what you came here to say? She knows it’s not your fault that you two didn’t get to talk before you left but you don’t think she deserves an explanation now?

At least Eren had the decency to come to her after. He didn’t say much except reassured her that nothing happened and he wasn’t interested in coupling up with anyone else.

Still, it didn’t quell Mikasa’s insecurity.

She’s never been jealous before in her life but this must be it. It feels like someone has dug into her chest and is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until her poor heart is nothing but a crumpled mess.

If it had been anyone else, maybe it would have hurt less. Now she’s so afraid that she's losing you to Eren and she's losing Eren to you and in the end, she’s the one left with nothing.

“Yeah he was pretty upset when you left.” With her elbow on the counter top, she rests her chin in her palm. You’re used to her stoic expression because you know if you look long enough, carefully enough you’ll see how soft she is. But this is different. There is nothing but cold, hard steel behind her eyes.

“I deserve it though. I shouldn’t have strung him along like that.”

“Yeah I’d be mad too.” The bitter edge to her voice is one that you’ve never heard her use towards you. You try hard not to take it personally, she’s only mad because she doesn’t understand. You have to set the record straight.

Now or never right?

“Mikasa look. I have to tell you something. I-”

“I’VE GOT A TEXT!” Jean announces, getting in the way of your confession.

“For fuck’s sake.” You mutter under your breath.

It’s pretty obvious at this point that the producers have you on their hit list but as Jean reads aloud the message, it only becomes clearer that they must have some personal vendetta against you.

“Eren, you get to spend the night in the hideaway with the islander of your choice. #DecisionsDecisons”

It’s an easy decision so Eren doesn’t give it much deliberation.

But his choice shocks everyone.

“_____. It’s you and me tonight.”

Even after what transpired this afternoon, your relationship with Mikasa was salvageable but this… you don’t think it will survive

Without a word, she hops off her seat, storming into the villa without sparing a glance at anyone else.

It might have been the final nail in the coffin for his relationship with her as well.

Alone in the hideaway, you nervously tug at the silk sheets, bunching the fabric between your fingers.

You’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes, sat in your pyjamas, a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts. The possibility that Eren would stand you up becomes more and more likely. Why he would do all this instead of just choosing Mikasa is beyond you but you know better than to waste precious brain cells trying to figure out Eren Jaeger. If he did plan on leaving you alone here for the night, it was probably for the best. At least you could sleep in a room by yourself for the first time in ages. A small consolation.

Just as you start to contemplate turning off the lights and calling it a night, you hear the door of the room creak open.

Eren walks in still dressed in his jeans and white linen shirt and kicks off his shoes.

“Look Jaeger. I don’t know what you want from me but I’m not interested in playing your games. I-“

The rest of your sentence evaporates when Mikasa appears from behind him. You jump to your feet, fully prepared to leave. Did he bring you here just to humiliate you? If that’s the case then he’s had more than his fill, you won’t let him have any more fun at your expense.

“Not interested you say?” Eren raises his eyebrow, as he gently nudges Mikasa forward.

You should go but your feet just won’t move when she stands square with you. “What’s going on?” You ask, as your chest grows tighter, with every second that ticks by.

“Do you-” she pauses, after a silence that dragged on for much too long. “Do you like me?”

Everything about it is innocent; question, the tone, the way she looks at you. But now your heart is beating so ridiculously loud that you can’t think straight. She asks you so bluntly that you feel stupid for how long you’ve spent agonising over how you would confess. Unlike you, she’s never struggled to get to the point.

Behind her, Eren wears a poorly concealed smile and that’s confirmation of the obvious. You don’t know what he told her but it’s obvious she knows this much. There’s no reason to deny it now.

“Yeah.”

You had rehearsed it countless times, thought about all the flowery words you would use to tell her how you feel. Yeah is not as eloquent as what you had in mind but it would have to do.

“Oh.” Her blush deepens, blending perfectly with the red and pink hues of the dimly lit room.

Mikasa is still shocked, she didn’t really believe Eren when he told her. Granted, at the time she wasn’t really interested in what he had to say seeing as he had just publicly humiliated her. Hearing you say it now makes her rethink everything, from those early days up until now.

She’s seen people chop and change partners with every new face that comes in and out of the villa but that was never her. To her, she already had Eren so there was no need to consider anyone else. But now that she knows how you feel, things are different.

“Hmm. Oh.” You mimic followed by a dry chuckle.

It’s not the response you had dreamed about but what did you expect? Yes you’ve confessed but this wasn’t your moment. It wasn’t the one you’d been waiting weeks for. Ultimately, that moment never came and maybe that was a sign that you and Mikasa just weren’t meant to be.

The big room now feels too small for three people. There's not enough space. There’s not enough air. You need to leave. You need to-

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” She steps closer to you. There is no malice in her tone. A simple question with a simple answer but you can’t pick up if this is a rejection or not.

“I didn’t know if you liked girls.” You mumble, taking a step back.

It’s not the reason. Maybe it’s one of them but you just needed the space to think. To breathe. But the back of your legs hit the bed and once again your backside is on the soft cushion of the mattress.

She moves even closer until her knees knock against yours.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” She shakes her head and cups your face with both hands so you look at her face, her smile (even though it’s only slight) alleviates the tension in your chest. “If I like someone, I like them and… I think I like you.

The relief that you feel meets an untimely demise when Eren approaches the bed. He pulls her body flush against his chest.

You truly were something. Here he was making it easy for you but you still can’t say what you want. A coward.

He whispers something inaudible into her ear and now you have both of them looking down at you. This is the smallest you’ve ever felt, wanting to shrink even further under their scrutinising gaze. Still, you feel a familiar tingle just buzzing in your lower belly as they size you up.

She tilts her head to the side, granting Eren access to her neck which he accepts. He plants soft wet kisses across the expanse of pale skin. Pink tongue and white teeth appear every now and then as he leaves bruises and bite marks on the, once flawless, canvas. Her eyes fall closed as she writhes in his hold, grinding her rear on to his crotch. His hands wander, underneath the hem of her short dress, exposing more of her milky thighs, black lace panties just barely visible. She hums, finally opening her eyes, to look at you, her thumbs rub circles onto your cheeks.

You can’t imagine how you look right now but you know how you feel. Your head is spinning from the erotic scene in front of you, clenching your thighs to alleviate some of the heat you feel, breathing heavily even though all you’re doing is watch, sitting there in your cartoon pajamas.

Mikasa gasps as he digs his teeth into her neck especially hard, leaving behind the dents of his incisors.

“Focus.” He murmurs into the crook of her neck.

You don’t know what he means but you can’t exactly blame her. If there were hands squeezing and clawing up your thighs, never reaching where you actually need them. If there was a tongue sliding over the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth raking over the same sore spots over and over again before soothing them with featherlight kisses and kitten licks. If you were in her place, you wouldn’t be able to focus either.

“I- I’ve never been with a girl though.”

Your mouth dries up at the promise of her words. There’s no way she means….

“But Eren said he’d help.”

Help?

There’s no chance for you to stop and question once he unzips her dress, letting it fall off her body, leaving her in her underwear in front of you. You can’t stop yourself from shamelessly raking your eyes over her body.

Yes, you’ve spent days with her, lounging around in swimsuits but this feels new. Maybe it’s the way the black lace cups the curves of her breasts, budding nipples just barely visible through the sheer fabric. Or maybe it’s the way the matching fabric only just covers her pussy, that’s just mere inches from your face. She’s so close you can practically smell her. Your tongue dips out to moisten your lips, practically dying to taste her.

Perhaps the biggest difference comes in the smouldering way she looks down at you, it’s the same desire you’ve had in your eyes for weeks, finally being reflected back at you.

Your hands twitch atop your thighs, itching to do something.

Touch her.

Touch yourself.

Anything.

She tugs at the sleeve of your shirt and that's all the instruction you need. You pull your shirt over your head, perhaps with a little more eagerness than necessary. While Eren unhooks the other woman’s bra, flinging it across the room. You feel your nipples harden instantly but you can’t be sure if it’s because it’s due to the cold air of the room or the heat of her stare on your chest.

Mikasa straddles you, stepping free from Eren’s hold. From the corner of your eye you see him unbutton his shirt but you can’t focus on him for too long. Not when your bare chests are pressed together. Both of you shudder as your nipples graze against each other and you feel the heat of her cunt radiate onto yours. You hear the sound of heavy breathing, you can’t tell if it’s hers or yours. You can smell her perfume, intoxicatingly sweet jasmine and amber. Her pupils are already blown wide, only a thin grey ring that lines the pitch black of her iris. You see your reflection of yourself in them and you can only imagine that she is seeing something similar. Mikasa has literally taken over all of your senses, all except for one.

She’s so close to you, she must be able to tell that your heart is racing. Her nose bumps against yours ever so softly. You’re almost too scared to even move. Everything about this moment feels like a dream, what if you close that millimeter gap and it ends?

But you know it's real when her petal soft lips press against yours. It can’t be anything but real when she kisses you, gently as though you might break. You can’t help but want more, slipping your tongue past her lips. And finally you taste her and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

You swallow all the sounds she makes as you lick the inside of her mouth, lips sliding against each other. Every whimper makes you hungry for more so you kiss her deeper, massaging her tongue with yours.

Puffs of air escape through your nose, but both of you are much too desperate to stop the kiss for something as trivial as breathing. It’s not worth losing the feeling of her mouth on yours.

Before long, your hands are wandering, trailing over the curve of her ass, rubbing over thin fabric that moulds to her body, tracing the intricate patterns of the lace. Her hand glides up your torso gripping the soft breast in her palms, making you moan into her mouth. She smiles into the kiss, rolling your nipple between her fingertips, sending small shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You maneuver her body, rocking her back and forth on your lap. It’s not nearly enough friction. You’re dying to get rid of the fabric that separates you. You want to feel skin to skin how wet she is for you. You want her to know how unbelievably wet you are for her. You fiddle around trying to adjust the position, trying to get her closer to where you need her.

“Baby.” A deep voice cuts through the tension in the room. For a moment you’d forgotten he was there at all.

Much to your chagrin, Mikasa pulls away from the kiss. You’re both left panting with your lips swollen. Your heart sinks as you come to the realisation that this is as far as everything would go. One searingly passionate kiss and nothing more. You couldn’t imagine a crueler fate.

Mikasa looks over her shoulder for Eren’s instruction.

He crosses his arms over his bare chest, toned muscles rippling with the motion, and stalks over to the bed. “On your knees.”

Obediently, she sinks to the floor, kneeling in front of you with Eren directly behind her. Yes, you just made out with his girlfriend right in front of him but suddenly you’re self-conscious being half naked in front of him.

He’s staring at you and not in the ‘ogling your tits kind of way’. It’s like he’s sizing you up, breaking you down with just his eyes.

“Can I take these off?”

You blink down Mikasa, not believing your ears but you heard the words yourself, clear as day. Eren does nothing but stare, expression unreadable. The room is quiet as they wait for you to answer.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod hesitantly.

Mikasa helps you shuffle out of your shorts and panties in one go, leaving you fully naked. Your legs are already shaking, resisting the urge to snap shut out of embarrassment. You can’t hide anything, not when she holds your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy to herself and Eren.

“Look how pretty she is, Eren.” Her voice is breathy. You’ve never heard her sound like this.

It’s because she’s in awe. Day in, day out you two would lounge around in swimsuits and not once did she picture this is how you would underneath them. Perhaps it’s better that she didn’t, because the thought would drive her crazy.

“Real pretty.” He hums in agreement. He can admit, your little display had him rock solid already. But god seeing you puffy cunt, lips already shiny and slick just from making out has him aching.

Mikasa slips two fingers between your folds, barely grazing your clit.

She pulls her fingers away admiring the way your slick webs between them. She holds her hand up for Eren to see. “Real wet too.”

It proves too tempting for him to resist. Eren leans down to suck on her fingers, cleaning them of your arousal.

You wish you could deny how much it turns you on when you hear him moan at the taste of you on her fingers. But it does and you can only hope they didn't notice how you flinched at the sound.

“You wanna taste her?” He teases when he notices her pout. He’s speaking to her but looking directly at you, pinning you under his gaze. “Then ask.”

“Can I eat you out?” She doesn’t miss a beat.

That tilts your whole world. Are you really sure you’re not dreaming? You nod, not trusting your own voice right now. Mikasa spreads your legs even wider but Eren stops her, firmly grasping the back of her neck.

“Nah. Don’t make it so easy on her. She has to use her big girl words.”

If you weren’t willing to take what you wanted, then he would give it to you. Eren is a nice guy like that. But he’s not that nice. If you wanted it, you were gonna have to say so.

“Right.” She agrees. “I’ll ask again. You gonna let me taste this pretty cunt?”

Eren’s throbbing behind his zipper. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her talk like that. It’s not a monster, more of a little green pest that buzzes around his brain asking him why she’s never said those kinds of things to him.

“Yes… please.” you answer hastily but neither of the two seem to share your urgency.

Mikasa’s touch returns, spreading your lips apart, only for her gawk at your dripping entrance, so close you feel her exhales on your skin.

The buzz in his head goes quiet because she’s waiting for his permission. She’s still his.

“Go on. Taste.” Eren whispers in her ear.

With one broad stroke, she drags her tongue across your cunt making your hips cant up towards her face, both of you searching for what the other has to give.

You will your eyes to stay open, hoping to brand the image of her between your thighs like this into the recesses of your brain. You don’t know if this will ever happen again and in case it doesn’t, you’ll have this memory.

Her tongue laps at your hole with the kind of excitement you can only hope to reciprocate by grabbing on to her silky hair, pushing her tongue further inside you. Not too hard, just enough to guide her in the direction.

She’s close. Right ther-

“Oi.” A smack echoes throughout the room. Eren is now knelt behind Mikasa, massaging the now sore flesh that was reddened by his hand.

Eren hated that you were a coward and he wanted you to take what you wanted but he’d forgotten that what you wanted was his.

Her attention is on him once again and the familiar jealousy starts to crackle in your belly. When Mikasa said that Eren would “help out” you didn’t think it meant him interrupting you two everytime you were starting to enjoy yourself. Of course it was naive of you to think that Eren would let you enjoy anything tonight. Maybe he did bring you here just to mess with you.

You hoist up your upper body to rest on your elbows just in time to see Eren take out his cock. Or rather he makes sure you see it. Gives you an excellent view in fact. It’s fully erect, bobbing against his abdomen while he gropes the flesh of her ass, giving her one more spank for good measure.

“You said you wanted to top right? Stop bein’ a fucking pushover.” He growls.

Her panties are pulled to the side, letting him press the fat, drooling head past her lips. You feel her breath come out in quick puffs against your thighs as she tries to accommodate his impressive girth. Inch by inch he’s filling her up until his hips press up right against her plush cheeks where he rests for a moment .

You look down to where her head rests on your thigh. Her face is scrunched up in either pleasure or pain, you can’t discern which.

Then Eren starts moving, slow and shallow at first and finally her eyelids flutter open. “I’m not done.” She digs her nails into your skin, making you wince. “Put that pussy back on my face.”

Eren lets out a satisfied noise. He really doesn’t know where she learned to talk like that. Even though she’s talking to you, he still feels it so he rewards her by snapping his hips faster, pulling out almost completely before ramming himself back in.

You don’t need to be told twice. Soon you’re back where you were a minute ago, Mikasa hopes to do the same, dipping her head low, already missing the taste of you on her tongue.

Sure she knows her way around her own body but she’s never eaten anyone out. She wonders if everyone tastes this sweet. Doubtful. She’s so eager for more wanting her tongue as close to the source as possible.

But before she can get there Eren chimes in.

“Nuh-uh baby. Go for the clit.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue because she knows that he’s helping her in the right direction. She can’t vouch for his skills, having had first hand experience. If she could learn to eat pussy half as good as Eren that would be enough to brag about.

She parts your slippery folds ever so delicately until she finds the swollen bud, that’s just throbbing for attention.

Her tongue hangs out of her mouth, tentatively flicking against it. She watches your face intently, taking careful note of your reaction. And what a reaction it is. Your thighs twitch beside her head, threatening to trap her between your thighs while you moan something that definitely sounds like her name.

She wants to hear it again to be sure.

“Spit on it.” He instructs her again.

You don’t think she will. The Mikasa you know would never do something so-

She doesn’t question his orders, cheeks hollowing out to collect her saliva that she allows to mix with your juices.

“See how messy she is? Fuckin’ sloppy.”

“So sexy.” She murmurs before diving for your clit again. Her tongue flicks at it haphazardly, she can’t get a good reach because of the way Eren’s thrusts shake her body. It feels good but you need more, shuffling down the bed until she can wrap her lips around the bundle of nerves. Everytime Eren hits just the right spot inside of her she moans against you, and you can feel the vibrations radiate from your pelvis up your spine.

While you’re so entranced by your own pleasure you don’t notice Eren’s lascivious stare. Mikasa being so eager to make you feel good should enrage him. He shouldn’t be this turned on, watching his girlfriend get on her knees for someone else, especially not you. But seeing the way, you’re so desperately trying to keep yourself from rutting against her face, nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip to try and keep yourself quiet. It’s adorable. But Mikasa has been too easy on you in his opinion and he doesn’t think you deserve ‘easy’. He wants to see your attitude breakdown bit by bit.

“Fingers. Use your fingers baby.” He prompts while slowing his thrusts, giving Mikasa more room to work.

One slender finger slides into your dripping cunt, feeling near no resistance on its way. Noticing how easily you take her, she’s quick to add a second, scissoring her fingers to stretch you out. High pitched ah ah ahs fall from your lips matching the rhythm of the drag of her fingers against your walls, the rhythm of Eren’s thrusts into her. It’s agonisingly slow, so she can enjoy the sight of you sucking her back in every time her fingers attempt to leave and admire the way your sticky arousal drips down her knuckles, onto the satin sheets.

Once Eren decides he’s had enough of that he picks up the pace again, meaning Mikasa has no choice but to follow suit. While her fingers pump in and out of you, she crooks them ever so slightly to try and find your g-spot.

When she prods at the spongy spot you go limp for just a second “Mikasa. Oh my god!” You squeal.

“Oho. She likes it.” Eren remarks, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Keep doing that.”

Mikasa is nothing if not diligent. She consistently aims for that spot while her tongue stimulates your clit, stroking it over and over again. You’re practically rushing towards an orgasm, stomach muscles already tightening up and white spots already clouding your vision.

“G-gonna. Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.” You stammer, teetering on the edge.

“You hear that baby?” Eren asks. “She wants to come for you.”

Eren tugs on her hair, pulling up her head so she can answer him, but all she can manage is a string of needy whimpers.

“What do you say? Hm?” He pulls harder, not satisfied with her response.

“Mm-ah. No.” She slips her fingers out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothings.

“Atta girl.” He praises her, beginning to fuck her in earnest now.

All you can do is watch as Eren fucks her stupid on his cock, driving her closer and closer to her peak while you feel your own pleasure dissapate into nothing.

A hazy fog has descended over her eyes, she’s looking at you but she’s so far gone that she may as well be looking past you.

Eren’s hair is messy, chocolatey strands framing his face, skin dewy with sweat. The heavy plap plap plap of his hips ramming into her ass is deafening. He catches you staring and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed although you do regret inflating his already sizeable ego.

“Tell her how it feels.” He hooks his middle finger into her cheek “Tell her how good my cock feels inside you.”

He has no issue with admitting he’s being petty but he wants you to see what he does to her.

No, scratch that.

He wants you to feel it. That deep hunger you have for Mikasa? He wants a share in it too. He wants you hungry like that for him too.

“Feelsh shhho good. Eren’shh cock feelsh sshoo good.” Her words are barely coherent, drool seeping from the corners of her mouth.

“Hmm. Ask her if she wants it.” He grunts.

“You want him to fuck you?” She slurs, words distorted by the obstructing force of his finger.

Do you?

Before you would swear up and down that you hated Eren. You still do. But Mikasa has gone delirious on his cock, mouth hanging open with her tongue lolling out, whining muffled “Eren Eren Eren”s even with him fish hooking her, and you can’t deny that it has you curious. It doesn’t help that you’re still desperate, from being left high and dry, poor empty pussy just begging for attention.

You shake your head yes and Mikasa’s hand comes down hard on your sore puffy clit. “Words.”

“Yes please.” You mewl. Tears prickle at your eyes from the sting between your legs. “Please. I want Eren to fuck me.”

“So well behaved.” Eren mocks you. “Hm?” He stops moving, still balls deep inside her.

“Good girl.” Mikasa practically purrs, lifting her head up once more. The small praise makes you feel flustered, desperate for more.

“Yeah?” His palm comes down hard on her ass. She almost sounds delighted at the pain. “What are you gonna do for your good girl?”

“I’m gonna make her cum on my tongue.” With that she’s back into your pussy, face first, suckling on your clit with quick pulses and pumping into you with three of her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for her to bring you back to that peak. Maybe because she left you on the edge just a moment ago only to let you watch her get fucked within an inch of her life. Maybe it’s you’ve been wanting this, fantasizing about this for weeks. Or maybe it’s because (as per usual), Eren Jaeger doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, a string of filthy words falling from his lips.

“You're doing so well baby.” He still hasn’t moved, more focused watching Mikasa fuck you open on her fingers. She’s so focused on making you cum, he wonders if she’s even listening but he knows that you are. “Gonna make that sloppy pussy cum so good. Let her make a mess all over your face.”

That’s the catalyst. It’s then that you’re falling into the abyss of pleasure, legs shaking as you writhe on the bed, while Mikasa’s fingers ride you through your high, gradually coming to halt as everything subsides.

When you finally feel grounded again, you open your eyes in time to see Eren pull Mikasa’s face towards him. Tonguing at her mouth, licking inside and around it to clean off the remnants of your orgasm. You watch longly from the bed as their tongues tangle together, tasting the mixture of you and each other.

When Eren has had enough, Mikasa turns to you, spit-slicked face gleaming under the dim lights. “My turn right?” She asks you, still slightly breathless.

Eren answers in your stead. “Yeah, take these off.” He stretches the elastic of her underwear so it can flick back against her skin. He’s trying very hard to sound indifferent because he’d be mortified if you knew how eager he was to see Mikasa rut against your face until she cums.

“Move up.” The instruction is for you this time, Eren patting your knees that still dangle over the edge of the bed. You clamber up until your head lands on the soft, downy pillows, body sprawled on the length of the mattress now. Eren crawls on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs. Mikasa sits next to your head, now sans panties.

He nudges against your tender pussy with the bulbous head of his cock, spreading your lips apart ever so slightly.

You don’t expect a ceremony, closing your eyes in anticipation for the burn you know is coming. It never does.

“Beg for it.”

Your eyes fly open, face immediately moulding into a scowl. He looks down at you with unabashed cockiness, clearly amused at your frustration.

“You fucking bastard! I-“

“_____. “ Mikasa trails her hand down your neck, grazing over your sternum and tracing the underside of your breast and circling your areola. Your nipples stiffen under the light touch. “He said ‘beg’.”

“But I already said it, didn’t I!?” Your irritation simmers when you address her, still deep down you cringe at how petulant you sound.

Eren’s hand comes down hard against your pussy and you let out a loud cry on impact. His hands are bigger, stronger and harder than Mikasa’s and that one spank leaves your whole pussy aching.

“Told you babe. You were being too soft.” He slides his tip through your folds while you twitch underneath the two of them, spreading is pre-cum around, mixing it with your juices. “Now she thinks she can get whatever she wants.”

She takes your nipple between her fingers, tugging on it gently. “Is that true?” She twists it hard, making you wince. “ I thought you were a good girl.”

She soothes the sore nipple by laving her tongue across it but the reprieve doesn’t last long as she sinks her teeth into the hardened nub.

“I’ll be good!” You whimper.

You're dizzy from the teasing; Mikasa playing with your tits, mouth around one nipple while her hand gropes the other one and the torturous drag of the full length of Eren’s cock up and down your pussy. It’s slow enough for you to feel every ridge and vein around him, always stopping to tease your entrance, but never giving you the stretch you’re craving.

“P-please.” Your voice is hoarse. “Please Eren fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s content with that; hearing you beg for him. He would never admit out loud that he’s jealous but there is a certain envy that sits heavy in his bones knowing that you want his girlfriend and she wants you just as bad. That's why it helps to know that, at the same time, you want him and he wants you too, just in a different way. It's messy and twisted, perhaps a little too complicated to unravel now. Because right now he wants to fuck you until you cry.

Yeah, that’s the way he wants you

In one quick, smooth motion he enters. You let silent scream and just as you feel full enough to burst, he reaches his hilt.

Mikasa lets go of your nipple with a pop and murmurs, “There’s my good girl.” Against the shell of your ear.

Without warning, Eren starts to move, impossibly deep thrusts, moulding your walls to the shape of him. He prods against a spot inside you that has your back bowing off the bed but he holds you down by planting one of his large hands firmly on your stomach.

Soon, he’s fucking you hard and fast. He can’t help it. The loud sound of your sopping wet cunt squelching every time he slides home, dripping down his hefty balls as they slap against your ass with each brutal thrust, was just egging him on.

That, combined with the sweet-sounding quiet moans of his girlfriend with her hand between her thighs, rubbing quick, quick circles while she’s seemingly unable to take her eyes off of the both of you.

She perches up on her knees to get a better look. Wanting to see exactly where he enters you, wanting to see your pussy stretched out way more than her slim fingers could do.

The creamy ring that encircles the base of Eren’s cock makes her shudder. She feels a sense of pride, knowing that translucent strands of your cum was because of her. Part of why you’re so sex-drunk right now is because of her.

“Eren.” She purrs. “You’re fucking her so good. Making her feel so good.” She uses her free hand to tweak at her nipples, eyes flitting frantically between you and him.

“F-fuck!” You cry out as Eren bottoms out and stays there. He leans over you, face hovering just above yours, the strands of his hair brushing over your cheeks. His pelvis is against your clit, providing delicious pressure but not much else.

“Open.”

It takes a moment for you to process that he’s giving you an instruction. But then, you slacken your jaw, lips parting.

“Looks like you can listen huh?” He sneers. “Stick out your tongue.”

And you do.

It’s all so Eren can drop a glob of spit from his mouth into yours. He makes sure he does it slowly, so that the string of saliva can stretch and stretch and stretch until it plops unceremoniously on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow. Keep it there.”

He gives you another one, coating your tongue in his spit while your own begins to pool in your mouth.

“Hey babe. You didn’t get to cum.” He addresses Mikasa. He gives you one shallow thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“Yeah?” She perks up, catching the meaning behind his words.

“Yeah.” He grunts, one more of those thrusts that puts him so deep you feel like he’s fucking the air out of your lungs.

She leans over you too now. Two pairs of eyes, look down on you from above. You blink your eyes shut, trying to escape their scrutiny.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl.” Mikasa coaxes you out of your sheepishness. She purses her baby pink lips, as if considering her next words. “Make me cum. Can you do that for me?”

For the third time that night, you have to question if you’re dreaming or not.

You nod your head a yes, feeling your own saliva pool in your mouth.

“So, so good.” Mikasa tells you.

“Shit.” Eren’s hips jerk against you, when. you squeeze tight around him when she tells you that. “Say that again.” He grits out.

Mikasa is positioning herself, facing Eren with her knees next to your ears, soaking wet pussy just an inch or so above your face.

“What?”

Their conversation is nothing but a faint buzz in the back of your mind, how could you focus on anything except what was right in front of you. Her pretty pink pussy, all wet just for you. The smell of her is heady, rich and sweet. The kind of thing you would get addicted to. God if she would only….

“——, you're such a good girl.” She sighs as she finally sinks down, resting directly on your face.

You moan involuntarily, finally getting to taste what your mouth has been watering for. You let your tongue stay still, letting her grind herself down on it. She tries to roll her hips in fluid motions but they stutter every time her clit rolls over your tongue as she lets out the most melodic moans.

You know that you’re being greedy now, but you can’t help it, the more she gives you, the more you want. Your hands fly up to her thighs and hold her in place. The tip of your tongue catches the rim of her leaking hole, trying to draw more of the sweet honey.

Eren clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “There you go again, letting her do whatever she wants.”

She pays him no mind, slipping her hand between her thighs to play with her clit, while your tongue massages the inside of her walls. “You’re just mean. She just wants to make me feel g-good r- ah right?” She rubs Her other hand tweaks one of your nipples, signalling to you that she wants an answer.

You moan a yes, muffled by the weight of her. You’re darting your tongue in and out of her pussy, unintentionally matching the pace of Eren’s unyielding thrusts.

She rolls the pulsing numb under her fingers, round and round. Her breathing quickens as she tries to bounces on your face; shallow up and down movements.

You can tell she’s close and briefly lament the fact that you won’t be able to see her face when she cums. You wish you could see what she looks like when that wave of pleasure finally crests. But when her knees dig into the mattress beneath her and rooting her firmly against your face, moaning your name as the waves of an orgasm rock her body, you can’t bring yourself to regret a thing. You’d let Eren have that. Getting to swallow down every drop that spills from her is more than a fair trade-off.

You clamp down on Eren’s cock, quickly approaching another orgasm of your own. Mikasa rides out hers by rutting against your tongue, her moans gradually fading into gasps.

“Make her real cum real hard okay ‘Ren?” She still hasn’t fully regained her bearings before she climbs off your face, (much to your dismay). “She really earned it.” She sighs giddy with bliss, plopping down beside you, turning her body to face you.

Eren huffs. “Your wish is my command.” His reaches your raw clit, rubbing it in harsh circles, setting your nerves alight like a livewire. There’s no way you could have held off your orgasm. Your muscles pull taut as you cum around his cock while he pummels your g-spot throughout your climax. As soon as you’ve come down, he pulls out of you. You whine, despite yourself, disappointed at the abrupt emptiness.

Eren mutters various expletives as he strokes himself over you. He’s coated in your cum and it makes the most obscene noise with every flick of his wrist. He releases onto your stomach hot, white ropes of cum shooting out, streaking from your belly button right down to the mound of your pussy. He milks his cock, desperate to get out every last drop, jolting his hips with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He collapses on your other side, leaving you sandwiched between the couple.

For a moment the room is filled just with heavy breathing, the three of you recovering from your recent activities.

Mikasa drags her fingers across your torso, smearing Eren’s cum over your skin.

Your body is sticky all over, a mess of sweat and sex. All of you are. But you’re not able to get your muscles to move, just yet.

As the lust that fogs your brain clears, nagging questions start to rear their head.

‘What does this mean for us now?’ being the most pertinent.

You roll over, to face Mikasa.

Perhaps now isn’t the time to ask, but you’ve learned your lesson about waiting until the right time. It’s in everyone’s best interest to clear it all up as soon as possible.

“So um- agh!” you choke around a sudden intrusion and a salty taste spreads across your taste buds.

“Not now.” Mikasa gags you with two of her digits that are coated in Eren’s cum.

“Yeah.” Eren jostles behind you. His sinewy arm snakes around your waist pulling you into his chest. At the small of your back you can feel his dick pressed up against you, already at half mast. “We’ll talk later.”

#love island collab #dyk it’s mandatory for islanders to go to therapy after the show #i think my subconscious took that info and ran #CAUSE THEY ARE ALL SO BAD AT FEELINGS???#and have 0 communication skills #eren yaeger smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot x reader #aot smut #eren smut #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman smut #eren yaeger x reader #mikasa x eren #mikasa x eren smut #tw spitting

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 5 -

Lan Xichen had had an extremely weird day.

The beginning of the week had gone much as it always did – the daily routine of lessons and chores, classes and cultivation – and he had been helping his uncle with sect business, just basic copying or taking down dictation since he wasn’t old enough to do more than that. He’d thought the rest of the week would go just the same way, but then a messenger had arrived and his uncle had asked him to leave. It wasn’t that unusual, there was plenty of sect business his uncle didn’t care for him to know about yet, Lan Xichen being not quite yet fifteen, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

What was unusual was his uncle’s sudden tension afterwards, and the second messenger that arrived not long after, and his uncle’s abruptly announcement that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji would be going to visit the Unclean Realm.

Lan Xichen had initially welcomed the news – he’d become friends with Nie Mingjue years before when the other boy had spent some time at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d always hoped to go pay a long visit in return, although that hope had been dashed when Nie Mingjue had been forced to become sect leader far too soon and it suddenly became inappropriate for him to spend so much time with a junior like Lan Xichen. But when his uncle told him to go pack and he realized that his uncle planned to send him right away��that was when he started to become alarmed.

He asked his uncle what the matter was, but his uncle refused to say, and so Lan Xichen had no idea why they had hurried so quickly to the Unclean Realm. He’d been asked to fly on his sword, and when he started faltering, one of the attending disciples allowed him to jump onto theirs to ride the rest of the way – they only rested a few times, at the mid-way points, and that was already pushing the boundaries of what they could do, even though they were all strong cultivators. After all, of the Great Sects, Gusu was the furthest away from Qinghe; it wasn’t an easy trip to make.

He thought that he’d ask Nie Mingjue to explain when he arrived, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t there. But the Unclean Realm’s protective shield was up, which he’d never seen, and they were searched and interrogated for a long while before being allowed inside. And even once they were, they were shown to certain courtyards and told not to leave.

“Brother?” Lan Wangji asked, and the mere fact that he’d broken his habitual silence to inquire that much told of his anxiety at everything that had happened.

“I’ll figure it out,” Lan Xichen promised him.

Only he really couldn’t figure out what to do next, and then Nie Mingjue returned with a positive gaggle of children, his face pale and almost visibly at the point of total qi exhaustion, and it hadn’t seemed like a good time to interrupt. Lan Wangji ended up getting swept up by the chattering children his age – the Yunmeng Jiang heir, Jiang Cheng, as well as the Yunmeng Jiang ward, Wei Wuxian, plus Nie Huaisang – and not long thereafter they were joined by Jin Zixuan, who poor Lan Wangji had ended up clinging to as the only other person not talking faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings.

Poor Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen thought; it wasn’t his fault that Wei Wuxian had fixated on him, seemingly thinking that teasing and bullying were the only way to make friends – they’d tussled three times so far, and Lan Wangji was constantly turning bright red with either fury or elation or both.

For his own part, Lan Xichen had tried to make friends with the boy that was closer to his age – Meng Yao, apparently – but Meng Yao just stared at him wide-eyed and stuttered a lot and seemed very awkward, although he had explained some of what was happening: that the Wen sect had ordered the kidnapping of sect heirs, that his name had been on a list (he didn’t know why he himself had been included, especially as none of the other Jin sect bastards had been), that all the sects were preparing for war…

It had been a relief when Jiang Yanli stopped shepherding the smaller children and joined them, if only because Lan Xichen could stop feeling like he was tormenting poor Meng Yao. Who wasn’t even a cultivator, although he expressed an interest in becoming one – Nie Mingjue had apparently said that he could join the Nie sect if he wanted.

“You should,” Lan Xichen said enthusiastically. “It’s a good sect – a bit, uh, martially inclined, but very righteous, very upright. They’re good people. If you don’t think you’d enjoy cultivating the saber, maybe you might prefer the Lan sect – you said you played the guqin? We cultivate music.”

His face was certainly pretty enough to pass through Lan sect regulations, Lan Xichen thought, although of course there were other requirements.

“You would be a good fit in either,” Jiang Yanli said encouragingly. “My Jiang sect isn’t taking on new disciples right now without a recommendation, but if you start with the Nie sect and find it doesn’t suit, I’m sure you’d be welcome in any sect you chose.”

“Except Lanling Jin?” Meng Yao said, giving them both a look as they blushed and stuttered and averted their eyes. “Neither of you recommended that one.”

“Lanling Jin is a very strong sect, very powerful,” Jiang Yanli said delicately. “And, uh…Lan-gongzi?”

“I can’t,” Lan Xichen said. “There are rules in the Lan sect about talking behind people’s backs, especially maliciously.”

“Well, I certainly can’t say anything! He’s my future father-in-law!”

“That bad?” Meng Yao asked, though he didn’t look as surprised as Lan Xichen might’ve thought.

“My brother says Sect Leader Jin’s a useless whoremonger who doesn’t think of anything but wine, women, and corruption,” Nie Huaisang piped up. Lan Xichen hadn’t even noticed him walking over; he would have tried to change the subject of conversation if he had – he remembered very well what a little demon Nie Huaisang could be, always stirring up trouble. “That he’s got more bastards than fingers and toes, and that the women he gets with child are lucky if he remembers to pay them for it, assuming they weren’t forced to begin with. You’re better off with us, Meng-gege!”

Meng Yao looked at Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, who both shrugged because there really wasn’t much to be said there, and then over at Jin Zixuan, who had trailed along after Nie Huaisang along with the rest of their little gang.

“My father’s not useless,” he said, looking uncomfortable even as he kept shooting fascinated glances at Meng Yao – who was his brother, actually, now that Lan Xichen thought about it, putting two and two together. Jin Zixuan had probably never met one of the infamous Jin bastards before; none of them had. They’d only heard about them in rumors. “And he does think of – other things. Sect business. Sometimes. That part’s wrong.”

Jin Zixuan was a good boy, Lan Xichen reflected. Far too good to be the son of a snake-tongued politician like Jin Guangshan.

“You should probably just pick another sect, though,” Jin Zixuan said, shifting from one foot to the other. “My mom – she doesn’t like – listen, she’s said some really awful things about what she’d do if any of the bastards ever actually showed up, okay? And I’m pretty sure my father agrees with her. He promised he’d throw them down the tower steps.”

“There are a lot of steps in Jinlin Tower. It’d break someone’s bones! Or neck!” Jiang Cheng objected.

“I think that’s the point,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “Meng-gege, you won’t go, will you?”

“I won’t,” Meng Yao assured him. “My mother’s coming here, so I have to be here at least until she arrives. And I think we’re all going to be here for a while, at least until the war is over.”

“That’s definitely the case,” Nie Mingjue said from the door. He looked a little better – someone must have given him spiritual energy and possibly a stimulant, possibly multiple stimpulants – though he still seemed very tired. Lan Xichen abruptly saw the point of all of his uncle’s exhortations against over-doing things. “You’re all welcome to stay for as long as this takes. I’ve cleansed the Unclean Realm of spies, as best as I can; this place is as safe as can be while you’re being targeted.”

“What about you, Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, anxious, because he knew, as few others did, that Nie Mingjue wasn’t nearly as old as people thought he was. “Will you have to fight?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t respond, which was affirmation. It was a stupid question to ask; Nie Mingjue was a sect leader, of course he’d have to fight. Fight the man who murdered his father only a few years before.

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue frowned.

“Xichen –”

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen insisted. “Even if it’s just cutting up cloth to make bandages, or passing along messages, or something like that – I want to help.”

“I want to help too!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Da-ge, you have to let us help.”

“I –”

“They’re our sects, too,” Jin Zixuan said quietly, and Lan Xichen saw Jiang Yanli smile at him.

Lan Xichen felt a moment of satisfaction at how they were all uniting, all acting together – and then, abruptly, dissatisfaction. “Why does Wei-gongzi get to call you da-ge?” he asked, indignant. “I’ve known you for longer!”

“It was convenient!” Nie Mingjue protested. “You can call me that too, if you like!”

“Not if you like,” Nie Huaisang said. “Everyone has to call da-ge, da-ge. You’re in the Unclean Realm now, and I make the rules here, and those are the rules!”

There was a small group discussion, after which it was generally agreed that it would be far too awkward to live together for days and days – amended to weeks and weeks after seeing the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face – while maintaining appropriate formalities, so everyone was going to call each other -gege, -jiejie, and -xiong, as appropriate, and of course that Nie Mingjue, as the eldest of their generation, would be called da-ge.

“Wen Xu’s older than me, actually,” Nie Mingjue mumbled. “Wen Qing, too, I think –”

“They don’t count, they’re Wen,” Jiang Cheng said. “The Wen sect is evil.”

“Wasn’t Wen Qing their doctor?” Jiang Yanli asked. “She was at the last discussion conference, presenting on some of her medial research. She was nice, I thought…?”

“She’s Dafan Wen, not Qishan Wen,” Lan Xichen explained. “They’re only technically a branch family of the main Qishan Wen – they split off a few generations back, but there was an accident and their parents died, so I think her and her younger brother got adopted as wards by Sect Leader Wen.”

“How unfortunate for her,” Meng Yao murmured, and they all looked at him. “I mean, if he’s as bad as you all say he is…”

“Was it an accident?” Jin Zixuan asked, and everyone looked at him. “What? Everyone says that she’s the most talented member of the younger generation of Wen sect – well, they say that when Sect Leader Wen isn’t around, anyway. It seems really convenient that the cousin who could’ve outshone the main branch got brought in so that all the accolades could go to him.”

“And we all know that Wen Ruohan likes to kill parents,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, kicking at the floor.

A moment later, as if by unanimous unspoken agreement, they all turned to look at Nie Mingjue expectantly.

“…she’s a Wen!” he protested a few moments later when he realized what they were getting at. “Even if the circumstances of her parents' death might be – suspicious – it’s still her bloodline; they share the same ancestors, they’re the same clan! She's not going to be a target - well, by them, anyway - though I suppose by the rest of us - and - and I don’t know what exactly you’d want me to do about it, anyway!”

#mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #nie mingjue #meng yao #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #targets

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dongofthewolf · 3 years

Text

Dancing in the Deepest Oceans- Chapter 3

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Your first date with Abby doesn’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, uhhh yea I did that

Here’s chapter three! It definitely took way longer than I expected to do since I really wanted to get a lot of those requests done, so I’m v sorry about that.

Also I kinda cheated and included someone’s request for a bath scene with Abby in this so shhhhh it’s fine I’m just lazy productive like that okay LOL. I hope you all enjoy (esp if you requested the scene) ! :)

Read the previous chapter here

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. You felt like the protagonist in one of those cheesy rom-coms from back in the day; the ones where the girl suddenly stumbles into the arms of her true love and everyone sings a happy song, except this isn’t a movie and also it’s kind of the apocalypse or whatever. You didn’t care though, this was the closest thing to rom-com perfection you were getting and you couldn’t complain, because it was with her.

Though you had only known Abby for a few short days, something inside you couldn’t help but feel like you had known her your entire life. The intimacy of those few stolen glances, the slight brushes of your shoulders, the way your hand fit perfectly in hers; it all felt so natural. You just hoped she felt the same way.

She should be here.

You glanced down at your watch again, it was 8:15. Maybe you had heard her wrong? No, she definitely said eight o clock. Your mind swarmed with possible excuses as to why she wasn’t here; perhaps she thought you were meeting at seven and now she was the one who thought you were standing her up, or maybe she thought you guys were meeting at your room and this was the fault of some kind of miscommunication, or maybe she simply forgot. You racked your brain for any possibilities as to why she wasn’t here, trying your best to neglect the most obvious reason out of denial or maybe fear.

The hallway was dark and quiet, the tile floor cold against your skin as you sat with your knees tucked tightly against your chest. Your back ached from leaning against the steel door, and you had become increasingly more embarrassed every time someone passed by. Their lingering gazes made you want to disappear into the earth beneath you.

For at least an hour, you sat outside her door contemplating whether or not you should wait for her. Was this whole thing a mistake? Your heart began to sink at the frightening possibility that she had been toying with your feelings this whole time, that you were just a naive girl with a childish crush on this person you barely even knew. God, how could you have been so stupid? This is exactly why you never formed attachments; they always ended in heartbreak, disappointment, or both. As more time passed, the fear and sadness that occupied your thoughts slowly began to fade into frustration.

This was dumb. Why were you waiting around for her like some lost kitten? You scoffed at how pathetic you felt. Anger began to rise in your chest as you thought of all the things you’d say to her when you saw her—how you’d scold her for standing you up, dreaming up this gigantic speech about how if she wasn’t interested she should’ve just told you. Or maybe instead of yelling you would just never speak to her again. Give her the silent treatment for the rest of your life. That is what she wanted anyways, right?

As you sat there arguing silently with yourself you heard a pair of heavy footsteps headed towards you. You craned your neck to try and see who or what was approaching you, but the hallway was too dark to get a clear view. Panic quickly replaced the anger that had been occupying your heart just seconds ago as you stood up from your uncomfortable position. You could hear the adrenaline pumping in your ears as you squint your eyes at the dark figure headed towards you. A sudden rush of relief fell over you when a familiar face appeared out of the shadows.

“Y/N.” Manny emerged from the darkness. His hair was slicked back into a bun and he wore a nervous expression on his face. The sole of his boots were caked with a thick layer of mud that left a trail of footprints in the hallways, and you pitied the poor soul who would have to clean it up.

“Where’s Abby?” There was a sharpness to your words. You knew you should've been a bit more conversational (Manny had done nothing to you after all), but after sitting on the floor for an hour, you didn’t feel like wasting time on bullshit small talk. If Abby was going to send Manny to get rid of you instead of doing it herself, then the last thing you cared about right now was seeming polite.

“Right, about that…” You raised your eyebrow, Manny’s expression was difficult to interpret and you could tell he was here to break some kind of news to you, but for some reason it felt like whatever bomb he was about to drop was far worse than what you had expected.

“Manny, what’s going on?” You took a small step towards him, searching his face for an answer.

“Isaac sent Abby and I on a supply run this morning. Nothing too difficult, just transporting a few things to another base but…” Manny looked down at his feet as he contemplated his next words “but we ran into a group of scars on our way back and we got separated.”

You suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for thinking all those things about Abby. “W-what do you mean you got separated? Where’s Abby now?”

Manny’s eyes were fixed to the floor as he delivered the news, his thumbs twiddling together nervously. “I uh… well, I don’t know.” Manny noticed your face twist with anger at his answer and tried to diffuse some of it “But Isaac’s already sent out a group to find her. It’s going to be okay Y/N, Abby is one of Isaac’s top soldiers and you know he’ll do whatever he can to find her.”

You were speechless, but more than anything you were frustrated. Frustrated at yourself for thinking such horrible things about Abby—for having such little faith in her. You wanted to scream at your past self for being so ignorant. Tears began to well in your eyes and Manny’s words did little to comfort you.

“I should be out there.” You marched down the hallway determined to find Abby but Manny was quicker.

His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “You can’t go out there Y/N, you’ll die. Abby’s smart, okay? She’ll find her way back.”

You tried to resist his grip on your wrist even though you knew he was right. You weren’t a soldier nor did you have the proper training to leave the outpost alone. And while a large part of you knew it was stupid to try and leave, a much bigger part of you didn’t care. You had to find Abby; you were willing to do anything, even if that meant putting yourself in harm's way.

“I don’t care, I have to go out there.” You managed to yank yourself free from his grip and booked it towards the door but Manny was quick and caught you. Wrapping his arms around your stomach and hoisting you over his shoulder Manny carried you into his and Abby’s room while you fought and cried like a little kid.

“Fucking let go of me Manny!” Tears stained your cheeks as you sobbed into Manny’s shirt.

When Manny finally set you down on his bed you were exhausted from crying; the only thing left in your heart now was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. You weren’t even allowed to leave the outpost to look for Abby, and the only thing you could do was sit in this wretched room praying she didn’t get mauled by a clicker or hung by a Seraphite.

Manny didn’t feel any better about this than you did, in fact it was his job as Abby’s partner to watch out for her and he failed. Now his best friend was missing and it’s all his fault. The guilt weighed heavily on Manny as he tried to comfort you while you wept silently into his pillow. Even though he couldn’t have possibly predicted the surprise attack, he still felt like this entire thing was his doing. He tried to plead with Isaac to let him go back out and search for Abby but he refused, so Manny figured keeping you safe was the least he could do.

Hours later you got up from Manny’s bed to use the bathroom, and he was nowhere to be found. You figured he probably went to bother Isaac about Abby or something, he was persistent like that.

You splashed some cold water on your face before tipping your head under the faucet to help ease the dryness in your throat. When you brought your head back up you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy and there were dark circles under your eyes like you haven’t slept in days. You looked like a mess. Your hair was wild and unruly but at least with that outfit you had spent way too long picking out, you still looked pretty cute.

At least you were a hot mess.

The longer you stared at yourself in the mirror, the more unrecognizable your face became. And then for reasons you couldn’t explain, you started laughing. A hysterical laugh that echoed off the walls in the bathroom like a sick symphony fell unwillingly from your mouth, and you couldn’t stop. There was something so incredibly sardonic about the events of these past few hours, that your body just decided to break out into a breathless cackle. It was a twisted reaction to a terrifying situation but for some reason it wouldn’t go away. Your stomach began to ache and your throat was dry and sore again. It felt like this sickening nightmare would never end.

You felt tears begin to well up again when you heard something that immediately shook you from your shocked state: the rattling of the doorknob.

Your heart swelled with hope as you ran towards the door, not concerned about waking up the people in the rooms next door with your loud footsteps. The door creaked open, flooding the dark room with a pale yellow light that blinded you, and from that light emerged a figure you knew all too well— one that you had become intimately familiar with.

Abby limped through the door, at first not even realizing you were standing right there. You were looming in the darkness like some kind of monster, and you tried to speak but nothing came out. The only thing that snapped you out of it was the sound of Abby’s voice, hoarse and hushed like she was speaking into the darkness rather than you. God, you almost forgot how much you loved the sound of her voice.

“Y/N?” Abby wasn’t sure if she was imagining this. She thought maybe the expired pain meds had some hallucinatory side effects and you were just what she wanted to see the most. Abby’s doubts faded into nothing when you took a small step into the light. In that moment she knew that this was real—that you were real.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the harsh lights you saw her face and gasped. To say Abby was in rough shape would be putting it lightly. There were cuts and bruises all over her face and body, and her clothes were absolutely filthy, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. You ran into her arms to embrace her tightly and Abby winced at the contact. Quickly you pulled back out of fear you hurt her, but Abby’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back in.

Abby let out a loud exhale and for a small moment the jabbing pains all over her body ceased to exist. The only thing occupying her mind was the warmth of your body—how she could feel your heart beating with how tightly she was holding you, and she could finally exhale.

When you pulled away, a flood of emotions suddenly began to flow through you, filling you to the brim until the only words you could manage to mutter out through choked sobs were “I thought you were-“

“I know. I’m sorry.” There was a somber expression on Abby’s face as she wiped the tears from your cheek with the pads of her thumbs.

You sniffed, looking up at her, you cleared your throat before speaking “Jesus Abby, your face.“ you softly grabbed Abby’s chin, examining her injuries in the light. There were crimson slices all over her face, and she was beaten black and blue. A particularly deep cut on her forehead had been stitched carefully and there was a cotton bandage wrapped around her left forearm. The state of your distress now seemed like peanuts compared to Abby’s state.

Without thinking you hugged Abby again tightly, revelling in the comfort of her embrace. Abby’s eyes were closed when you wrapped your arms around her, her eyebrows were furrowed and you weren’t sure if she was about to cry or scream. Though you didn’t know much about Abby, you did know she was a soldier—a warrior who wasn’t disturbed easily. You had no idea what she had just been through, but whatever happened had shaken her up pretty good.

“Here.” Bringing your arms up to the strap of her backpack, you helped her ease it off her shoulder. She let out a breath of relief as you lifted the weight from her back and placed it near the door.

Looking at Abby now you finally realized how dirty she was. There was mud and grime all over her clothes and her braid was loose and unruly.

“Hey, uh I’ll run a bath for you, just wait here.” Considering her state you figured a bath would be more relaxing than a shower. Besides, you needed to feel useful right now, and if that meant taking care of Abby for a bit? You didn’t mind at all.

Hesitantly, you made your way to the bathroom and laid out a small towel on the tile floor. Turning on the faucet, you placed the plug in the tub and made your way to Abby, guiding her to the edge of the tub. “Let me know if the water is too hot, okay?”

Abby nodded as she ran her hand under the running water, letting the warmth fall between her fingers. When the tub was full, you turned off the faucet and stood up, using Abby’s shoulders to help steady you as you started for the door but something stopped you.

“Wait-“ You stopped, Abby’s hand was over the one you placed on your shoulder, securing it there so you wouldn’t leave. She looked at you with pleading eyes as she spoke “Can… can you stay?” Abby didn’t say anything more but you could tell by the look in her eyes she needed you here.

“Sure. I’ll turn around and you can get undressed.” You turned to face the door, looking down at the tile floor as you traced the crevices with your finger. The only sound that could be heard was the droplets of water that fell from the faucet echoing against the walls and the soft rustling of Abby removing her clothes. Eventually you heard Abby lower herself into the tub, she let out a loud sigh as the tension in her muscles dissipated from the warm water.

“You can turn around now.” Abby’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

Slowly you turned around to see Abby sitting in the tub, her legs tucked against her chest as she hugged herself tightly. Her eyes were fixed on the floor of the tub while she rested her chin on her knee. It broke your heart when you saw her injuries in the light. There were deep purple bruises along her shoulder blades and scabbed over cuts along her arms and legs. You also saw scars, a lot of them. Some were old and faded, while others were new, probably sustained within the last couple of weeks.

The steam from the water floated up, fogging the mirrors and warming the room. You made your way to the edge of the tub with a small washcloth, dipping it into the water just slightly. “Here.”

Bringing your finger to Abby’s chin you lifted her eyes to face yours. Her features softened when you met her gaze and lightly you brought the washcloth to her face. Careful to avoid the stitches on her forehead, you rid the dirt from her face, dipping the cloth into the water every once in a while before bringing it back to her face.

Her freckles were more prominent in the light and her eyes stuck attentively studying your movements. When all the grime was gone, you couldn’t help but notice a whisper of a blush on Abby’s cheeks.

“One hell of a first date, huh?” Abby spoke seriously but you could see a hint of a smirk on the edge of her mouth. A bit of her normal self was beginning to return.

Sitting up more straight now you gave her a small smile. “This is definitely the most interesting one I’ve ever been on.”

You reached for her braid, undoing the elastic and separating the strands from each other while Abby spoke. “Oh so you’ve never bathed someone during a first date?”

“I can confidently say that this is my first.” Grabbing the small bar of soap from the dish in the corner, you dipped it into the water and lathered it between your fingers.

The soap filled the air with the scent of pine and rain and you sighed at the smell. It filled your senses and reminded you of the first time you saw her. Not the time in the cafeteria but on that rainy day when you bumped into her for the first time. You inhaled deeply; it smelled like her.

Gently you began massaging the bubbles into Abby’s hair. Weaving the blonde locks through your fingers, and purposely taking longer than necessary. Watching closely as Abby’s muscles relaxed and her eyes fluttered closed from your touch.

“Lean back.” Shielding her face from the water you grabbed a cup and poured the water over her head, letting the bubbles wash away from her scalp and into the water. “Is this okay?”

Abby hummed in response and you took that as a yes. You repeated the process while you washed the soap from her hair, doing it a couple more times than needed because you knew it calmed her.

The bathroom was quiet again, the only sound coming from the steady flow of water from the cup onto her head, and into the water. It was peaceful, and the both of you were content in this familiar silence. Appreciating each other’s company without the need to fill the air.

When you were done you sat up and laid out a towel for Abby, drying your hands on your shirt. “I’ll grab you some clean clothes, just give me a sec.”

You left Abby to dry off while you searched for some clean clothes. Grabbing what you assumed was a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants, you made your way back to the bathroom. Standing outside the door, you knocked lightly. “Can I come in?”

Before you could wait for an answer, Abby opened the door a bit, hiding herself behind it. You handed Abby the clothes and she gave you an appreciative smile, it was small but genuine. “Thanks.”

You sat beside the bathroom door waiting for Abby and trying not to think about the fact that she could’ve died out there. She was here and that’s all that mattered for now.

Your mind wandered as you picked at your sleeve, you noticed there were a few wet spots on your shirt from the edge of the tub. The cool air made you shiver and you regretted not bringing a sweater, even if this was supposed to be a night in.

When Abby finally emerged from the bathroom you quickly stood up, unsure of what to do next. Her hair was still damp and spread across her shoulders; this was the first time you had ever seen her without that signature braid and you were in awe of how beautiful she looked. It was such a strange thought but it was the only thing occupying your mind. There was something so rare about seeing her like this that you couldn’t stop the flutter in your heart when it happened.

Grabbing her hand, you led her to the bed on the opposite side of Manny’s and pulled the covers back so she could slip in. When she settled under the sheets you neatly tucked her in before standing up again.

You didn’t know what to do now. Would it be rude to stay? Abby clearly needed the rest, but something in you desperately wanted to stay. You decided to let her sleep and started towards the door when you heard a small voice from beneath the covers. “Stay. Please.”

Abby’s voice was quiet and you could hear the exhaustion behind it. You looked at her with a smile and sat down on the bed next to her, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead before smoothing it down softly. She looked at you apologetically as you caressed her head, and you gave her a look of reassurance even if you were scared out of your mind. Her eyes fluttered closed and her features softened from your touch. You stayed like this for a while, continuing even after her breathing had slowed and you knew she was asleep.

You stayed up watching her sleep; studying the way her mouth was slightly agape as she let out small breaths. She looked so peaceful.

A small teardrop escaped from your eye, and you quickly wiped it away. You knew this wasn’t going to be the last time she’d be like this; battered and bruised and fighting a war that seemed to never end. It hurt your heart to know that she was on this path of self-destruction, but what hurt most was knowing she’d likely never stop.

You tried not to think about that right now. Eventually letting your attention fall onto the wet shirt that was still stuck to different parts of your body. Removing the item you walked over to the drawer where you had found the clothes for Abby and slipped on one of her t-shirts. It was devastatingly oversized on you but it was warm and smelled like her.

You settled onto the space next to Abby’s bed, ignoring the ache in your back as you lay flat on the floor beneath you. Though the pain was worth enduring with the knowledge that Abby was here, and that’s all that mattered to you right now.

While you lay on the floor you began thinking about how different things were just hours ago. It wasn’t long ago that you were practically dancing like an idiot in your mirror because you were going on a date with Abby. It’s strange how many emotions you had gone through in one day, you were almost positive you had broken some kind of record. You chuckled at yourself; surely no one was going to spontaneously break out into a song like in the movies, but you didn’t mind. This was enough— being here with Abby was enough.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook your body and you quickly felt your eyes becoming heavier. The floor was beginning to feel a lot more comfier than when you had sat down and before you knew it, you had fallen into a deep slumber.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #the last of us imagine #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us 2 #fxf #fluff #angst #definitely did not use a The Cure song for my chapter title

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

Text

Childhood Sweethearts

Summary: You and Finn had been together for a while now and it was all going great. The only problem was, all of the brothers didn’t know yet

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: hey can i request a Finnxreader where Finn got her pregnant and her brothers come in the Garrison with guns and all and are like "We dont care who you. That you're a shelby, but you got her pregnant and you're gonna marry her" and than Finn has to explain to his bros that he is kinda dating her for a year and some fluff please??? I got so many requests for my baby Finn and I’m ignoring how they changed him in season 5. Hope you like it!

Words: 2605

***

When you’d first met Finn, he’d been boxing. You had only been fourteen at the time and he was only thirteen, but he was a Shelby, so there were expectations. “Call yourself a Shelby?” the owner had kept on shouting out at him. And you could see Finn was really trying, but he just wasn’t that type of Shelby.

Your brothers were at the gym as well, which is why you were there. Women weren’t allowed, no exceptions. Well, except little sisters. You were let in when you came to pick them up and the youngest Shelby sister couldn’t be kept away, but apart from that, no women allowed.

And then it’d happened. Arthur went feral, everyone went crazy and Finn reacted like no one else could. And you watched him, calmly, but with interest. Afterwards, you handed him a towel. He suddenly looked young, not at all like he had seemed while fighting, and he’d said: “No women allowed.” You had smirked and replied, “Then go.” *** And so the two of you had become friends. First it had just been talking on the streets about brothers and life in general. Because if there was one thing the two of you had in common, it was the burden of having too many older brothers. While the Shelby’s had big plans with young Finn, yours seemed to want to keep you ‘sweet and innocent’ for as long as possible. Neither fit the pair of you really.

“What would you do?” Finn asked you one day, “You know, if you could do anything.” “Hmm…” you thought out loud, while trying to balance on some forgotten piece of scrap, “I could open a salon, or make ice-cream all day, or I could fly a hot-air balloon to Paris!” You were always the one making up stories and Finn would just sit there and listen. He was definitely the quiet one. In his world of chaos and violence, he could do with a bit of imagining. “I could buy a camel!” you laughed out loud, “Go to Egypt dressed as a man and raid one of the pyramids. I’d become the richest woman alive and no one would ever even know that it was all stolen, including my fake name.”

Finn grinned, “You’d probably get away with it too…” “Or, I could steal some expensive jewels and seduce the man guarding them,” you spun around a lantern post feigning seducing it, “I’d kiss him when he’d catch me and tell him I’ll split the profit with him. I’d say to meet me in Paris at midnight, but never show up. Then, years later, after I’ve come back from Mexico…” “Mexico?” Finn called out, enjoying this story way too much. “Mexico, obviously, where I’ve been hiding?” you replied with a face like it was obvious, “After Mexico, I’d go back to find this man and tell him to follow me. He would, of course, and I’d tell him to meet me in London. Then, and this is the best bit, I go back to Paris to get the jewels and blame it on him!” Finn grabbed your hand and spun you around, both laughing, “Y/N? Ever thought of becoming a Peaky Blinder?” “That!” you joked, “If I could do anything, I’d take over the Peaky Blinders and…” “Move to Mexico,” he finished. “Move to Mexico,” you said softly, because the two of you were suddenly no longer dancing. Standing closely, noses almost touching, you were, for the first time, lost for words. “Ask me,” Finn practically whispered. You raised your eyebrows slightly in question. “Ask me, Y/N,” he repeated, “What I would do if I could do anything.”

You indulged, “What would you do, Finn?” “I’d marry you.” “But we’re only fourteen,” you blushed a little. He was completely serious however. The two of you were always laughing and playing, but his eyes were no longer sparkling with childhood joy. Something else had settled in there, “Then I’ll wait, for now.” After that one evening, the two of you became inseparable. ***

Sneaking out at night was easy, especially after the two of you just watched how Ada did it. As you got older, your games of truth or dare became more and more dangerous. Late at night, you met in dangerous places and together, you grew up at midnight. Making love under the bridge, kissing quickly in the Garrison when no saw and holding hands under the table, it was all still a game to you. But the love, that was real, and it only kept on growing. How no one found out about it was a miracle and a tragedy at the same time. You’d grown up with five older brothers and a part of you now wondered if they even acknowledged your existence. Surely, you two were not that subtle? And besides, you had the horrible habit of talking too much and had often divulged a little, but they never picked up on it. Guess they were too busy with their own lives, which was just as well, because loving a Shelby was not a preferable situation. But sneaking off to secret rendezvous was easy, concealing love was also manageable, but hiding a belly with a baby inside of it? That was going to be hard. “They are literally going to kill me, Finn,” you sobbed. Why did you even sob? You never cried before. “Don’t worry,” he put his arms around you and spoke soft and lovingly, “They’ll kill me, not you.”

“That is not fucking helpful!” “I know,” he looked down, “Sorry…” The two of you were sitting in a closed Garrison. Luckily, the pub was never truly closed for a Shelby. Here you could find some peace at least and no one there to disturb you. “A baby though, Y/N,” you could see the sparkle in his eyes, “Our little baby!” You sighed deeply, “I don’t think you understand how serious this is.” “I don’t think you understand how wonderful this is!” “Finn…” “No,” he interrupted you, which he never ever did, “We made that.We did. Like, I loved you so much and you put up with me for so long and then this happened. Can you imagine? That’s amazing, isn’t it?” You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness and excitement, “Someone did tell you where babies come from, right?” He smiled broadly and kissed you suddenly. “Finn?” you asked, a little unsure, “I think my mum knows I’m pregnant.” “How would she know?” “She knows these things,” you shrugged, “She had seven kids.” Finn frowned, “What do we do?” “Well, if she knows, we’ll find out soon enough.” You hadn’t even finished your sentence properly, when a loud noise came from the door of the Garrison and five big men walked in. They didn’t look pleased. “On your feet, boy!” one of them bellowed. Finn had no idea what to do, so he decided it would be best to get up.

“This him?” one of your brothers now turned to you.

You nodded solemnly, “This is indeed Finn Shelby.” Another asked, “This the one that knocked you up?”

“That’s a charming way of putting it…” you protested. “Well, how do you want us to put it?” “You could ask me if I’m alright?” you suggested, “Or: is this the boy of your dreams? Or: is this the man who will take you to Mexico? Or…” “Alright, we get the fucking idea, Y/N,” your eldest brother interrupted you, “No need to get poetic about it.” From the corner of your eye, you could see Finn had sat back down again. While you and your brothers continued arguing, he started downing whiskey. Did you blame him? Not really, what else was there for him to do but wait really.

And suddenly one of your brothers turned away from you and pointed at Finn, “Right, now I know you’re a Shelby and we know how you do things!” “Do things?” Finn genuinely didn’t understand. “You’ll not be taken our sister to some fucking doctor.” “Finn wouldn’t,” you quickly said, “He’s not like that.” Finn still didn’t understand though. “You don’t even know him,” your brother said, “Just because he fucked you…” “Oi!” Finn called out suddenly, lifting one hand to his cap. But your brothers were big and annoyed, so they picked Finn up like it was nothing and simply placed him outside the pub. If you weren’t pregnant and miserable, you could’ve died of laughter.

“Okay, listen…” you started, but they didn’t let you finish. Through the door they started shouting at Finn about taking responsibility and pretty soon you decided it was no use trying to get them to listen. So you rolled your eyes, sat back and waited for the storm to be over. And then there were more voices coming from outside the pub and you sat up to try and get a look at them. An angry voice seemed to be reprimanding Finn and a calm, low voice kept on interrupting the other. Without warning, the three oldest Shelby brothers barged in. Now, this was all you needed: more brothers in the room. There were eight now, all yelling, and slowly, you could see Finn moving back in through the door. You two exchanged glances, admitting defeat and decided to just wait.

“I don’t give a fuck who you people are…” one of your brothers was now actually screaming. “Let’s not play games, eh?” Tommy replied calmly, “You know exactly who we are.” “He will do the fucking right thing!” “And he will!” “That little rat may have thought he could just have his way with her and not carry the consequences...” “WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU CALLING A RAT…” Finn crept down next to you and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Should we tell them?” “How?” you mouthed back, “They’re kind of busy right now, wouldn’t you think?” “Let’s wait,” Finn suggested. So, the two of you got back to watching eight grown men bicker like small children.

“This was never her idea!” “Wasn’t Finn’s either, he doesn’t even know how to spell his own name, isn’t that right, Arthur!” “She’s nineteen! She’s just a child!” “She might be your sister, but she’s a grown woman.” “Okay, why the fuck are we talking about Y/N? Heis responsible and he is going to marry her.” “I agree,” Tommy suddenly said. So, Finn decided this was the best time to try again, “Actually, if you’d all listen for a second…” “I think you’ve done enough, mate,” one of your loudest brothers interrupted quickly. “But, me and Y/N…” Then Arthur was the one to push his little brother back in his seat, “Shut up Finn and let us handle this. Full of frustration, the youngest Shelby sat back down, only to stand back up again. He picked up another bottle of whiskey and started pacing the room a little. “Stay off the whiskey, Finn!” one of his brothers scolded, “Here, eat this,” and he handed him an apple. With eyes wide, he stared at the sudden piece of fruit in his hand and exclaimed, “I’m not a fucking child anymore, John.” But his brother just winked and said, “Apparently,” and went back to arguing. So Finn walked and bit his nails and paced and pondered and decided there was nothing left to do, but eat the apple and jump in the Cut.And you couldn’t help yourself. A small giggle escaped you mouth and soon after you could no longer contain yourself and burst out laughing. “What’s the matter with you?” Finn hissed. “Don’t know…” you hiccupped, “but by the time they’ve finished I’ve already given birth probably!” And out of nowhere, all the brothers fell silent. Tommy, as always, took the word, “Right, this is how we’ve decided to do it…” “You’vedecided?” you repeated angrily. “Shut up, Y/N, you’re in enough trouble as it is,” one of your brothers bit.

But the great Thomas Shelby held up a hand and silenced the room with a gesture, “We’ve decided that the two of you are getting married. Now, you might hardly now each other, but the damage is done, eh?” “Actually…” “Finn, shut up, I’m still talking. Now, don’t worry Y/N, Finn will take good care of you. And Finn, you do the deed, you pay the consequences. The marriage is in a fortnight. Congratulations.” The room went quiet again and all eyes were on the two of you. You could now actually taste blood and realised you’d been biting your lip to keep from laughing a little too hard. Finn looked like he was either going to explode or just disappear. Almost inaudible, he muttered, “In a fortnight…” “Yes,” his brother confirmed, “Gives you a chance to get to know your bride.” “I’VE KNOWN HER FOR FOUR FUCKING YEARS, TOM”

So he did explode. “EVER SINCE SHE WAS FOURTEEN AND I WAS THIRTEEN, WE’VE BEEN TOGETHER.” “Finn, babe,” you put a hand on his arm, “Calm down.” He turned to you, his eyes still hilariously wide, “Why the fuck do they never listen? Pinch me or something… can you even see me? Am I real? Am I a ghost?” So you did as any woman would and slapped him in the face, “Stop the dramatics. You’re here.” “Ask her,” one of his brothers urged him, “Ask her properly.” Finn sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, “I did ask her ABOUT FOUR YEARS AGO.” You nodded wisely, “He did.” “Well, what did she say?”

“That we were too young?” ‘Too fucking right!” one of your brothers shouted out. Within seconds, eight men were once again yelling without listening to each other, and the Garrison became chaos for a second time.

“Okay, wait!” you held up both hands and much to your surprise, everyone stopped talking. Guess there really was power in being pregnant, “This is good news, right? We both want to get married! Yay?” And then they all started again! New subjects for arguments were found in the fact that you’d been sneaking out, that they let their brother be with you, where the wedding would be and who with, and there seemed to be no end to it. So, Finn put the apple in his pocket and with a sudden certainty to it, grabbed you by the hand and marched you out the door of the Garrison. There, in the filthy streets of Small Heath, he kissed you long and deep. “How about it then?” he asked. You smiled back at this wonderful boy and said, “No, let me do it. You already got to do it when we were kids.” “Okay,” he agreed at once. “Finn, if you could do anything, what would you do?” “I’d marry you in a fortnight!” he almost shouted out. And you deeply into his eyes, wondering how you’d even managed to find such a soft, sweet and still strong man, and finally said, “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” he said almost before you could finish the question. After another long, long kiss he got this sudden twinkle in his eyes and suggested, “Let’s go home.” “Home?” you laughed. “Yeah,” he pointed to the Garrison, “They’re all busy in there, right? The house is empty…” You looked down at your bulging stomach and joked, “Damage’s already done.”

Hand in hand you walked through the streets, feeling like the king and queen of Birmingham.

“Mexico then?” a small smile was tugging at his mouth now too. You nodded, feeling more in love than ever, “Mexico.”

*** Masterlist

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that-damn-girl · 3 years

Text

(1) Daze of Pollen

(Work in Progress - 1 of 8; Slow updates)

Daze of Pollen Materlist

Pairing: (cis)fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson

Words: 1800+

Warnings: None except language?

Summary: Bucky, Steve, Sam and you are in the safe house post mission when a retrieved Hydra device activates, releasing a kind of pollen you don’t know of, but the effects of which are soon discovered.

A/N: To all my horny bitches out there, I’m sorry the first chapter isn’t smutty. I didn’t plan on keeping the entire first chapter as the intro but it just...happened. Also, This is my submission for @buckyssoul ‘s Rae Hit 1k Marvel Writing Challenge. I’m sorry for the delay. Hope you like it!

It is a strange concept, really. We don't always get what we want. But if we do, it's when we least expect it, in the most strangest of ways as well.

Call it your good luck, fate, destiny, a simple mere coincidence, or whatever. You were grateful for that night in the safe house regardless. For the first and the last time, you could say that you were thankful for a little Hydra contraption.

It all started during a peaceful dinner. You and your group of friends were relaxing after a successful mission, treating yourselves with any and all comfort food available in the safe house. The mission was anticipated to be much harder than usual; the only reason why Bucky and Sam had asked you and Steve to accompany them. Quite unexpectedly, the mission went smoothly and it seemed there was no need for the extra help they had requested. But considering the mission consisted of scoping out an abandoned Hydra base, being overly cautious was preferred than being overconfident. One never knew the levels of villainy Hydra truly possessed.

Oh, you were about to discover the truth in that statement just fine.

Bucky sat across from you on the dining table, Sam to your right. The duo played catch with a balled sheet of paper, their half eaten meals abandoned on the table. You and Steve conversed with them while enjoying your respective sandwiches.

It was true that Steve had given up his Captain America mantle to Sam, a man just as deserving of the title, but hadn't completely retired. He didn't get out on the field anymore, but used his excellent strategic skills in planning the missions sometimes, especially if it included Hydra.

All of you would have been enroute to the Compound had Rhodey and Scott not hogged the quinjet. None of you minded though. With the four of you together, it was very much like a quiet night in with close friends. Unbeknown to you, it wasn't going to be particularly quiet much longer.

"Does it smell funny to anybody else here?" Bucky asked, pausing midway while rocking his chair. Squinting his eyes, he glanced around himself to locate the source of the smell, a deep frown etched onto his features.

Steve took a tentative whiff, you and Sam doing the same. "No pal, I don't smell anything."

"It's…" Bucky closed his eyes, taking in deep inhales. "It's faint but it's there. I'm sure of it."

You and Sam glanced at each other, a raised eyebrow followed by a shrug. Suddenly Bucky sat up with a start, his gaze fixating on a corner of the room. Following his line of sight, you found the hard black stacked containers with the Shield logo which held the Hydra files and devices you had retrieved from the base earlier in the mission.

"It's coming from there, I think." Bucky stood up and reached the stacked containers in only a few long strides. Before any of you could stop him, he lifted the cover to inspect its contents.

Immediately a puff of bright yellow powder-like substance was released from the inside, as if a smoke bomb had been triggered. Bucky coughed as the coloured dust hit his senses. It didn't take long for the particles to dissipate in the air. Soon the clean air around you was shrouded with the yellow dust, leaving all of you a coughing mess.

"What is it?" You wondered, one hand waving in front of your face to get rid of the dust while the other protectively covered your nose. It was no use though. It was everywhere, the particles so fine they slithered through the gaps between your fingers. You could do nothing but inhale it as you coughed helplessly. The particles stuck to the insides of your mouth. You couldn't feel them on your tongue or the roof of your mouth, but the dryness that followed was a sure shot indication. The tangy scent of it overwhelmed your senses, making you wonder how could you have missed it.

"Look inside the container, Bucky. See what released it." Sam instructed with broken words in between the coughs.

"Fucking Hydra," Steve muttered under his breath.

Following Sam's orders, Bucky peeked inside and pulled out a wooden cube. It was small enough to be grasped in his palm. One of its faces had the ugly red symbol of Hydra painted on it. The cube was heavily cracked along the sides. Had Bucky not held onto it firmly, it would have fallen apart right then.

Sam, you and Steve drifted closer to Bucky as the yellow dust gradually dissipated into nothing - or rather as the most of it was already inhaled by you all. The cube appeared to hold some carvings in a language you supposed was Russian.

"I...don't...understand…" Bucky's fingers drifted across the letters as he tried to make sense of it. "Fuck!" With widened eyes, Bucky retraced the words, confirming what he had read. Throwing the cube across the room, he started pacing the room, his head hidden behind his palms.

"Come on, man, you're scaring me." Steve said, approaching his friend.

"You should be!" Bucky yelled, all his frustrations coming out on the wrong person. He loudly groaned, rubbing his forehead, "I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"What is it, Bucky?" You asked.

Bucky looked at you, his gaze sweeping over your form. He bit his lip, an almost remorseful look coming over in his eyes. In a much softer voice, he said, "I don't know how to explain it. I don't know where to start."

"Do you know what the yellow dust we all inhaled was?" Sam asked.

Bucky replied after a long pause. "It was a sort of pollen which Hydra had engineered."

"Hydra modified...pollen?" You asked. The idea sounded as bizarre to you as snow in the Sahara. "What?"

"No- Well, um, yes," Bucky took a deep breath before he started explaining. "Hydra could never replicate the super soldier serum they used on me. But they needed more super soldiers. It hardly ever happened that anybody else would succeed in recreating those serums so that Hydra could steal. They decided that if they couldn't transform using the serums, they would...breed super soldiers. That's when Project Growth started. These pollen were engineered to assist in it."

"How did the pollen assist Project Growth?" You asked, confusion dripping from your voice.

Bucky glanced at you but quickly diverted his gaze, unable to keep the eye contact. "Project Growth was about using super soldiers like me and those four others to... impregnate willing women. Conception with super soldiers is harder than usual for some reason. So they came up with this pollen to aid the process. It's an aphrodisiac. They called it sex pollen, because well, it increases one's sexl drive... by a lot. So much so that it might be fatal if the person exposed to it doesn't, you know, climax."

"What? Are we gonna want to fuck like rabbits then? Become Hydra's breeding bitches?" Sam asked, crossing his arms in front of him.

"The experiments were never successful. They did it a couple of times and it never resulted in a pregnancy. This box," Bucky gestured to the broken cube lying on the floor, "I don't know how or when but it got activated somehow." He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea if the pollen inside it was a sample of those failed experiments or if that of a new one. Either way, we don't have long before the effects would start showing."

There was a lull in the room, the implications of what Bucky said sitting heavy on everyone's minds.

"We can keep ourselves locked in our separate rooms until it wears off to...get ourselves off." Steve's cheeks were tinged a deep shade of red as he proposed the idea.

"It's not that easy. Trust me, I've been through it." Bucky looked at Steve. "It's something about needing another person's touch; a sense of intimacy. No matter what you do on your own, it won't ever be enough. It would send you in a daze of lust, where the only thing you could focus on would be to anyhow satiate yourselves. You would desperately want another person to touch you, no matter who or what gender. You'd need them to touch you." He glanced at each one of you. "I'm sorry, but it's going to be nasty."

"So what you're saying is, it's basically fuck or die?" Sam said.

"When you put it that way…" Bucky tried to think of a better phrase but finding none, he replied, "-Well, yes."

"I don't know what to say," You crossed your hands in front of your chest. To say that you were shocked was a massive understatement. You couldn't even begin to believe that any of it was true.

Unconsciously, your gaze drifted over each of the men in the room. They all stood with a hard look on their handsome faces, lost deep in thought. You weren't sure if it was you or the pollen due to which you felt yourself get wet, your panties gradually dampening and sticking to your form.

Truth be told, you had always wondered what being with these men would feel like, what fucking them would be like. Would Sam choke you in a sensual manner with those bulging arms of his? Would Bucky keep you pinned to the bed with his thick thighs? What would gripping America's Ass feel like when Steve would be pumping his length into you?

You bit your lip, your mind conjuring up a train of lewd images. You wondered if it all would come true that night. Though you had considered them insanely attractive since the day you had met them, you never dared to act upon any of your desires with either of them. They were your close friends, and you'd be damned if you'd destroy it for a night of pleasure.

Now though, you had no other option but to fuck them if you valued your life. On any other day you would have laughed boisterously had anyone suggested such a thing, but it was your reality right then.

You realized it didn't have to be a necessarily bad thing though

Huffing dramatically, you stood straighter, hands falling by your sides. With a newfound confidence, you asked, "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"What?" Steve asked, dumbfounded.

"At one point or the other, we would eventually go crawling to someone. I don't think we'd be in control of ourselves if it would make us that desperate. Avoiding the inevitable makes no sense. It's better to start it while we are still able to make conscious decisions and consent to being with each other. At least I'd prefer that."

The men looked at each other, a silent conversation happening amongst them. Bucky asked, "Are you sure, Y/N?"

You smiled. "I am, Bucky. If it's gonna be this way, then I'm glad it's the three of you. Are you guys sure though?"

Bucky glanced at Sam and Steve before smirking, "You bet we are, babydoll."

You walked closer to Bucky, standing on the tip of your toes as your arms curved around his neck, excitement thrumming through your veins. "Let's get this show started then."

Chapter 2

Blog’s Main Masterlist || Tag lists

I’m taking requests if you want a particular kink to be featured. Send me an ask or text me for the same or to be tagged.

Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #sam wilson x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #sam wilson x y/n #sex pollen

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purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

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