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akxmee · 2 hours

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𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗠. //𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎.

He loved her since childhood, yet she married another man.

Words: 11.3k

Suguru Geto was never seen like a man interested in relationships. Not flings, not one-night stands, real relationships. Unlike his best friend satoru who used to have tons of girlfriends week after week, Suguru wasn't fond of it. Don't get him wrong, he did like to have his fun too, but once he had it and was satisfied he never once was seen again.

It's not like he didn't want a relationship either. He wished for the warmth of a relationship, he craved the proximity and he needed that closeness with someone, but not with anyone. Because he only wanted you.

He always did.

Everytime he felt some random woman's hand run through his hair, every moment he felt someone admiring his beauty, everytime he was sent gifts from some "secret admirer" on valentines, everyday he woke up next to some lady he met on a party..he wished it was you. No matter how many hands he held, they never fit his like yours do. No matter how many people he met, none of their personalities was made for his like yours is. Maybe that's why he never really even tried to establish a serious romantic relationship with someone, because he knows no one will fit him like you do.

"It's no use. If she doesn't like you by now, give up. Want something to smoke the pain away?"

Yeah, shoko said that to him more than once and he remembers it too well. He always ignored the last part, because Suguru knew you didn't like the smell of cigarettes from the way your beautiful face turns into an expression of disgust when you smell it. He has always been able to admire your beauty, even when he first met you as a child and decided to play with this pretty kid from the other class.

Oh, how he cursed the day that he met you.

He remembers it as clear as a day, it was a snowy day in primary school. He was in class, waiting while sitting on a chair while he waited for his patents to pick him up since they were late because of work. All the kids were already gone, and he was just staring at the floor while patiently following his teacher's orders.

—Psst!

He looked around for the owner of that sound. The door wasn't opened, and nobody was inside of the class too.

—Over here!

Suguru looked to his right, seeing another child standing on a chair to get part of their face visible through the tall window. The kid waved, and he found himself waving too.

—You look bored, want to play?

He looked around the classroom for a second. He was more than happy to have someone to play, but it was a classroom. What game could he play here, if it wasn't doing basic mathematical exercises?

—Bur there are no games here..

To his surprise, the child nodded.

—I know! But look.—The kid proceeded to signal to the opposite window, the one that had looks to the exterior of the school.—There's snow. We can make a snowman, like the movies!

He sounded interested in her offer. However, he was still not fully trusting you.

—Won't we get sick? I'll say it's your fault if i catch a cold!

He said, pointing at you with his finger along with a sly smile. Even if there was a dirty window between the two of you, he could still feel the warmth of the smile you just gave him then.

—No worries! I'll make sure you stay warm.

—You promise?

He looked at the child's innocent eyes that grew excited as he seemed to have agreed to play with her now. His lips curved into a smile due to this.

—I promise!

And he trusted her word. His mom once said that promises couldn't be broken once you make them, so that kid was responsible of him now in case he grew cold. He got off of his chair, opened the door and finally saw her whole, not just half of their face looking at him through a window. The child he has been talking to smiled as they got off a chair to get to his level, and he helped her get the chair back to the classroom it was borrowed from before going outside.

The kid was called Y/N, he learned.

And you were so fun to be with. He played with you, made a few snowmen, threw snowballs at eachother, and laughed the hardest for a long time when he hit you and you fell to a huge pile of snow. He thought you were going to be boring at first, that you were just one of those stupid kids who laughed at him because he claimed to see "spirits" or "curses" as he liked to call them, but you weren't. You didn't even understand what he meant when he talked to you about them, however you were sweet about it. You even said it was alright and that everyone has imaginary friends, he just has tons of them! That's cool, isn't it? Having so many friends must be cool.

For a moment, he thought it was cool too.

Not a curse, not a gift, but something cool only he could do.

And that single feeling of being someone "cool", someone interesting and not some crazy child, made him feel free for the hour he kept playing with you until his parents picked him up. He was scolded for being outside and catched a huge cold that had him in bed for two whole days, but it was okay. He liked the way you kept him entertained that day, so he forgave you for breaking the promise.

Yeah, he liked you.

Suguru sighed, those memories he thought he would eventually forget coming back to him. He was a shy kid, and you made him get out of his comfort zone. That little you tore down his walls and stepped all over his beloved silence until he began to hate it as much as you did. Now, there was no place for it when you were together and he got used to you yapping everytime just like Satoru. Only difference was he actually enjoyed your voice, he found the tone you spoke to him with quite relaxing.

He noticed how you always had a different tone for each person.

It was endearing, to say the least. Suguru loved the way you called for him, the way his name sounded so sweet from your lips. When you talked to him, he noticed your voice was soft. Softer than usual, soft as if you knew you didn't have to raise your voice for him to understand you better. Sometimes there wasn't even a need to say something for him to understand you, but he still pretended he didn't hear you just to listen to your voice once again.

He adored your voice.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the reason he was calling you to tell you this instead of texting you right now.

He thought about it once again, how brave he was being right now when as a teen he couldn't be able to even look at your face despite being your childhood friend. It was all because he had just discovered he had this silly crush on you, wasn't it?

Oh, how he cursed the day he fell in love with you.

It was when he recently joined the jujutsu tech, as far as he remembers. You two were then at his home, with a bottle and a half of alcohol empty, doing both a celebration and goodbye party. He got into the college, but that only meant he was leaving you behind to go and live in Tokyo while you stayed at his childhood town. That explains why you were completely drunk, drunk enough to look at him and not think about how he was going to leave next week.

—Going to fall asleep already?

You looked at Suguru with sleepy eyes. Right, you two were on the sofá with some of those random pathetic TV shows at 3am as background noise as you leaned on his shoulder and he talked about the people he was going to have class with. None of the ones he described to you seemed interesting since, for you, your Suguru was always going to be the strongest. However, you listened to him carefully anyways like you always do.

—No, I won't.

He chuckled.

—Right. I'll be guessing you're spending the night here?

He felt a slight nod against his shoulder.

—You even dare to think i won't?

—Not at all, m'am.—You rolled your eyes at the formal nickname, getting your head off his shoulder as a punishment. You also intended to get up to be more dramatic, but a hand on your waist stopped you.—You're drunk, i wouldn't recommend standing up just yet.

You looked to the side, meeting his half lidded eyes and cocky smile as he talked to you. A slight blush crept its way on his cheeks due to the alcohol, but didn't sound drunk at all despite all of that.

—So what? It's time to go to bed anyways, Suguru.

—You actually intend to go to bed knowing how tipsy we are right now?

—No, but i do want a blanket from your bedroom.

He looked at you and wondered if you were serious. Alcohol warms people up, so how could you be cold? It was winter, but his house was surely warm enough to stay hot and comfy.

—Hell, are you sick?

The hand on your waist pulled you closer to him and as a result you ended up with your head on his chest. Next thing you knew, a pair of soft lips were pressed on your temple for a few seconds until the feeling of them disappeared.

—You don't seem to have a fever.

You looked up, not caring about what he just did and how your actions could be misunderstanded if someone walked in right then. You were always this close to Suguru. You didn't mind being this close to his chest, neither did you care if he pulled you by the waist, and the feeling of his lips on your forehead to check your temperature was just another of the things you've grown used to. Not only that, but you were too drunk to even give it a second thought. Hell, he could have kissed you on the lips with the excuse of checking if you're sick and you wouldn't have thought anything bad about it because of how sleepy you were getting.

And he knew that.

He just didn't know why he wanted to do it so bad.

That time when he was leaning in to kiss your forehead his tired gaze lingered on your lips for a bit, nothing too weird. You were wearing that lipstick shade he helped you pick, and it suited you really good! It was okay, so why did he feel the urge to ruin it until his lips were of that shade too? Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong by pulling you into his chest, thinking of this as something that wouldn't be quite considered friendship?

—Hey, Suguru.

Your voice interrumpted his thoughts. You were still on his chest, now in a comfy position and playing with a strand of his loose dark hair. The man simply looked at you, mumbling a soft "mm?" waiting for you to keep going even if he knew you were just going to tell the most carefree thing ever since you were drunk.

—I've been thinking, and i'm really glad you're the one I get to call my best friend.

Best friend.

Yeah, he needed to get that carved into his brain urgently since that was what you two were, are, and will be. There was no space to even think about something as complex as some kind of attraction to his kind of cute childhood friend, and he was once again reminded of it. All the times he got butterflies just because you held his hand like you always do, he needs to get rid of all of them. All of the times his heart raced because of a silly kiss on his cheek, the long hugs, the late night talks about life..it needs to stop. It was dirty to think of you in a way beyond friendship when you saw a brother in him, and he knew that. You didn't see it the way he wanted you to, so he had to start forcing himself to think the way you do.

It should be easy, that's what he thought when he first felt this strange around you.

Yet, it was anything but easy.

So with a sigh, he placed a hand on top of your head while the other one rested on your lower back. He positioned the two of you so you completely lay on the couch and turned off the TV, admiring how you didn't even question his actions as you waited for an answer to what you said a few seconds ago.

—Yes, i'm grateful you're my friend too.

"Liar", he thought.

But what could he do? He doesn't like you anymore.

It's clear now,

He entirely loves you.

The phone made a sound, and it once again stopped him from daydreaming.

—Suguru?

He heard you talk from the other line. The man smiled just by hearing you call his name.

—Y/N.

Suguru called your name back, his voice was deep and sweet, and had this endearing sweet touch that made it sound like he was purring your name.

—It's late, why did you call me?

You didn't even sound worried despite the fact that he was calling you so out of nowhere, this was a normal thing. He kept quiet for a bit, he could hear some utensils being moved around.

Perhaps you were at home, cooking?

That's good, he loved your cooking. You made food for him several times, so many that he lost count. Seeing you cook while he waited leaning on the kitchen's counter made him dream of a universe where you cooked for him everyday. Oh, how he imagined you cooking something for him as he got from work. You and him, at home, married and not friends. That's the perfect life, the life he desired next to you.

However, it was not possible.

He exhaled.

—I'm not going to attend your wedding.

He didn't even get to keep talking, and the sound of a metal object —some cutlery, he guessed— hitting the floor was already interrupting him.

—What do you mean?!

You asked him desperately, getting worried. What did he mean by not coming to your wedding? Was he crazy? He was one of the only people you specifically wanted to see at your ceremony. You wanted to spend your special day with him, who you considered part of your family at this point. You wanted to recieve an speech from him congratulating you as he promised, you wanted him to joke about how your husband's family was so dry, you wanted him to see you in your wedding dress.

And he did, too.

He just wasn't able to.

—Suguru!

You called for him, waiting for an explanation. He stayed quiet for a second, the only thing you could hear from his line was the sound of heavy steps and wind. He was walking through an alley, leaning on the wall once he was there.

—Listen, i can't.

—Why?!

He wondered about what excuse would suit best right now to give it to you. "I love you" he wished to say, but was it really relevant when you were soon to marry another man? How could he even dare to be as selfish as that, letting you know of all of the times he took advantage of your friendship to have an excuse to hold you? How could he, as a man, ever think of saying such a thing? However, you did deserve to know the truth. Was he really going to tell you?

He shook his head, a bittersweet smile in his face.

—I can't, Y/N. Something just came up, and I-

—Something more important than your best friend's wedding day? Really, Suguru?

—Yeah.

He hated the way your breath hitched at that, the way he could feel the pain in your voice. Because the pain you felt, he felt it even worse. Everytime the smallest of the corners of your heart broke, his whole soul shattered.

—And you can't even give me an explanation?

Your voice cracked. He just stayed quiet, and you got your answer.

Your tone changed this time.

—I hope you're glad of what you've just done. Don't you dare to call me again, Geto.

You hung up, and he knew he fucked you up.

His last name was spat with what felt like venom through his ears, the feeling of not hearing you calling out his name with a cheery tone had him at the verge of tears. It was his decision, so why was it so hard to do this to you? You were supposed to be the only woman he could ever love, and he just hurt you.

His shaky hands threw his phone across the street, frustration getting over him.

Fuck it.

He crawled along the alley still leaning against the wall for support, sitting on the ground once he reached the edge of it. His breathing was accelerated, he didn't know if it was due to stress or the stinging pain coming from his shoulder.His head leaned back as he hissed in pain, clutching on his arm.

Or what was left of it, anyways.

Blood stained his hands, which he didn't even realize were paler than usual. He left out a shaky breath, recalling all of the things that happened faster than he could ever imagine. He was beat up by this kid called Yuta, ruined his relationship with you and was about to die, all in a span of time of a few hours.

It was for the best.

—Suguru.

A voice called his name. For a second he thought he would see you, but the voice was too masculine to be yours. His mind must be playing games on him.

He opened his eyes, seeing a white haired man he knew a little too well.

—Ah, Satoru.

Satoru looked at him with those eyes, those eyes that used to be filled with emotion now looking empty. His friend kept quiet, so Suguru kept talking.

—You know, just had a chat with your wife. We might have fought a little.

Yes, Satoru's wife. That was no one but you, the only woman he could have ever desired, taken from him by his best friend. He was mad at first, hearing that you and satoru were offcially dating.

Satoru knew he liked you, so why?

He was crazy, refused to talk to Satoru in private or when you were not looking. He placed his trust on Satoru when he said he would respect his crush, and he betrayed it. He didn't even understand why would he do such thing when Satoru was known for having like.. four, five? girlfriends in one month. He didn't want his best friend to break your heart.

But then he saw it.

He saw the way Satoru looked at you and noticed how you looked at him back.

Fuck, you loved eachother.

Because he knew that gaze of yours, he dreamed of it more than he could ever count. He wished of the day you would look at him like that, but Satoru got that dream come true before him. He cried until the next morning that day, cursing fate for giving him a heart that wasn't his, but yours. He cried because no matter what he did for a decade, Satoru got you in just two years.

Was it Satoru's eyes? Was it his pale hair? Perhaps you thought he was unattractive. He knew he was always going to be less than his best friend, but he thought that maybe you would choose him and not the strongest.

But you didn't.

And with time, he learned how to live with it. He helped Satoru pick anniversary gifts for you, supported your relationship with him, calmed you down when you and Satoru fought, helped satoru pick a ring and propose to you... Hell, he was going to be Satoru's man of honor at your wedding too. How could he not? You looked so happy when you gave him that handwritten invitation letter inviting him you to your wedding with another man while his heart crushed in silence.

But everytime, he smiled at you.

Because you were happy, and Suguru wouldn't want anything but that.

And that's why he, even though he took the thing he wanted the most, smiled at satoru who was looking at him in this pathetic situation where he didn't even have an arm and was covered in blood. Yes, he had no bad things to say about his best friend if he was the one making you happy.

—Told her i wouldn't attend the wedding. You must understand why, huh?

Satoru tried his best not to let his serious and professional expression fall at Suguru's words. He seemed as if he was so calm, but he knew what he was thinking. The white haired man simply kneeled down in front of him.

—She used to like you too.— He spoke in a low voice.—A year before we started dating. Remember when she started to wear ponytails? Asked me what your type was and i said that because i didn't actually know.

Suguru's eyes darted towards his friend's, looking for the slightest clue that would indicate that he was lying. He wasn't, he knew that gaze.

—Why are you telling me that?

—Thought you would want to die with a happy thought. I know you still..

"You still love her" he wanted to say, but suguru's chuckle didn't let him continue. Satoru saw the widest smile he could have seen in his best friend's face since years and years ago. He laughed and laughed, forgetting about the pain he was feeling at that moment. More than feeling like he lost a chance, he felt glad; not because he didn't even realize it, but because of the fact that if you liked him once, that would only mean you had looked at him. It was okay, because you laid your eyes on him and he was chosen by you. He was worthy enough to be liked by you, and he felt his younger self scream of joy inside of him.

That made him even happier, because It means that maybe, in another universe, he gets to make his dream come true and finally date you withouth having to worry about ruining your friendship. In another universe, maybe he gets to be the reason of your happiness. A universe with no curses, where you two live separated from the world and live a married life with children.

Yeah, nothing could make him happier than that.

So he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall, relaxed and ready to accept the fate his friend was going to give him. His smile didn't ever fade, grateful for what Satoru told him.

—At least curse me a little at the very end..

—AUTHOR'S NOTE: honestly not really happy with how i've written this fic, i was kind of rushed. However, hope you liked it!

It's not edited, so let me know if there are any mistakes.

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scalpelsister · 2 years

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ok 2 things

1) if i see ANY marisha hater say anything about being happy, it is ON SIGHT. dont try me demons.

2) Idk i disagree w everyones takes about raise dead/revivify/resurrection etc not working or bringing back a 20 year old laudna? like i think its clear either way that the spell will work- it would be hostile to players to not allow that, in a way matt just... doesnt seem to be. furthermore like... i didn't like the kingsley thing w/ molly and while i know its not 1:1 comparison I just do not want laudna to be a similar case at all. I want her to remember her friends, I want her to come back /as she was/. like it feels almost antithetical to her character for her to come back """fixed""" and without any connection or love for the people around her.

#like shes made it clear she feels broken to some level like #shes traumatized and scared in so many ways #and the whole idea of like- yes you can grow and heal but you cant untraumatize yourself #so it would feel cheap to me for her to be untraumatized by a stupid spell and then have her like #forget everything and have no connection to her friends like. idk it would piss me off #critical role #cr lb #cr spoilers #< there are yall fuckin happy lmao #laudna #my post

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan.

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”

You wanted to take his finger and break it.

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.”

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!”

“No! Fuck– Get off me!”

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.

“Is that all, Sergeant?”

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.”

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

1K notes · View notes

kandlewick · 7 months

Text

i'll dry the villain's tears

t h e r o s e r e d t y r a n t ' s m o t h e r

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

You had died.

at least, you think you did.

It was hard to remember much.

Blinding lights, fading screams, it all felt so fuzzy and distant that you could hardly even remember your old face. The new one staring back at you was strange and foreign and perfect; it was almost like you were staring into the eyes of a doll. You pressed a well manicured nail to your cheek, feeling the soft skin give underneath your touch. So this is what she looked like. Bright red hair and piercing silver eyes, Riddle's mother made for an intimidating figure. You could only imagine how wicked she would look when angry despite her pretty looks.

You let out a soft sigh, leaned back against your chair, and attempted a smile at your reflection. The muscles around your cheeks creaked in protest at the attempt and gave you little more then a grimace.

"Not one for smiling, are you Mrs. Rosehearts?"

Well, whatever sickness that had overtaken the former Mrs. Rosehearts seemed to have passed and you no longer needed constant supervision from whoever Riddle had called for. Speaking of, where was Mr. Rosehearts? Surely her husband must've been worried sick once he had heard his wife had collapsed.

After a few moments of pondering, idly rummaging through drawers and inspecting every nook and cranny of what you assumed to be your new bedroom, you quickly discovered there was only a wardrobe for one. How strange. As you continued digging through your new and incredibly modest clothes, your hunt for clues was quickly interrupted by a sharp knock at your door. You dropped everything and let out a quiet shriek, feeling what felt like your heart quickly jumping in to your throat at the surprised new guest. Imwardly, you had to remind yourself that you were in fact, not snooping! This was your stuff now and could look through it all you liked. Quickly patting down your clothes and pinning back your frazzled hair, you attempted to compose yourself and cleared your throat, quietly acknowledging their presence.

"Uhm - yes! You may come in."

Whoever stood out your door seemed almost hesitant, waiting at the door long enough for the silence to slowly grow awkward, before the door let out a small click and they entered.

It was Riddle.

"I finished my lesson for the afternoon." Riddle spoke quietly, eyes never leaving the space behind your head, as if too nervous to even look at you, "If you would allow me, I'd like to take a small break to rest my eyes."

Here it was! Your moment! You had dreamed of this since the beginning and you could finally, finally make a difference and fix the broken relationship between him and his mother!! You eagerly turned towards him, feeling your skirt pick up in your excitement and ducked down, balancing your weight on the balls of your feet and lowering yourself down to his level.

"Actually, Riddle, how would you like it if we took a break together. I made us some tea!" You smiled, eyes crinkling in delight, "And then after that we-"

"No, thank you."

Eh.

What a quick response!!!!

Blinking past the surprise, you were startled to notice that Riddle had taken a few steps back, his eyebrows knitted together in what almost looked like confusion. You could feel the apprehension and barely disguised fear roll off of him in waves as he opened his mouth to continue.

"It's not time for a tea and I'd much rather get back to my studies as soon as possible.."

Yes, you supposed it was rather late in the evening for a tea time but it couldn't be that bad to take a small break to unwind after a tiring afternoon, surely! Bu then again, you realized, Riddle's mother always enforced a strict schedule. There was no time for snack breaks or play time, everything was chosen for him down to the very last millisecond of his day. Breaking this trend would not be an easy task. Mrs. Rosehearts made sure of that.

"Ah, you're right! Silly me..." You took this moment to reach out, intending to push back a stray hair from Riddle's face but he flinched. It was hardly noticeable and honestly, if you weren't down at his level and painfully aware of every twitch and fidget, you wouldn't have noticed but still, you felt your heart break a little more.

"Yes... It must be the fever." You sighed out, lowering your hand before slowly putting it back in your lap, "I must still feel tired after being in bed the past few days. Being stuck in my room must've made me a little mad."

Riddle made no effort to respond, only slowing raising his head. When his silver eyes met yours, you smiled and kept his gaze, "Would you do me a favor then, Riddle? I'm feeling terribly lonely and would like the company... however," You had to give him the option, "if you'd rather end your studying for the day and choose yourself what you'd like to do until your bedtime, you're more then welcome to."

As much as you wanted to quickly mend the relationship between the two of you, you knew you could not rush it. Years of abuse and tyranny do not go away with a single good deed and the more you tried to force it, the more you guessed he would push away.

Riddle paused and searched your eyes, looking for any signs of this being a test. He seemed almost hesitant to even ponder the choices before him as if he had never made his own decision before - with his mother's blessing no less - and wasn't eager to start now.

"I won't be upset, Riddle. You c-"

"I would like to have tea with you, please."

You mentally fist bumped the air, tears of success running down your face. Progress! This was progress, right? Willingly getting him to break his rigid schedule was already a huge undertaking but getting him to choose to spend time with you? You could practically hear the angels singing in your head.

Getting him to slowly and comfortably break his schedule was one thing but his diet? That was a whole other trauma to fight and you didn't know where to start. Unlike Riddle's mother, you weren't a doctor. Your knowledge of what was healthy and what was not and how to balance calories was never something you were taught past the very basics. Smugly, you figured she wasn't any good at it either so really, it could only get better.

It started with little things, replacing what kinds of ingredients you used and portions and the like and you spent many a nights on Magicam, researching food trends and advice from dieticians and other mothers. Anonymously, of course.

If Riddle noticed the change in his diet, he made no attempt to question you about it, probably enjoying whatever you were doing enough not to bring it up. You were his mother after all and although the dinner table was still quiet between the two of you, it was a more comfortable silence as if you were both too worried to break it. Watching him eat was also a treat. You had always thought Riddle was a pretty child, but to see sparks of life flicker behind his trained expression was a victory you always cherished. Sometimes it was small things, like him kicking his feet or the shock of trying a new taste. It was precious, watching him slap his palm to his face as he jumped in his chair, eyes practically tearing up at the taste of pepper of all things.

And then, one day, you decided that perhaps it was time. A strawberry tart.

You paced in your bedroom for days, practically digging holes into the floor as you plotted your next big move. This moment was perhaps the most important of all the other events that had happened in Riddle's life and you knew it was going to be a real big hurdle to cross.

"Riddle?"

He perked up slightly from his desk at the sound of your voice and turned to look at you. His eyes were brighter now and they no longer had the same fear they once had. His gaze could almost be described as affectionate.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to be out for awhile. not for too long mind, but I have something very important I need to do. I'm sure you don't mind if I leave you to yourself for a short while?" You gave him a sheepish smile as you made your way to the front door, your hand already reaching for the handle. As much as you wanted to do this and get it over with, you could still feel the nerves biting at your ankles.

Riddle nodded his head, his red hair practically bouncing with the movement, before returning to his studies while you closed the front door behind you, breath heavy in your throat. Days of planning were all coming together. You could feel the sweat building up and running down your neck as you took a few simple breathes to calm your racing heart.

Some might consider it obsessive but you had carefully studied That particular bakery and it's foot traffic to ensure that nobody else would be in the store to witness what was about to happen for the past two weeks. In disguise, you had watched and written down the hours there was a slow lull in visitors from out in the streets, careful not to attract any sort of attention. It's not like you were planning anything nefarious! It's just that... the thought of anyone witnessing the verbal smack down you were about to receive was almost too much. But you had to do this. For Riddle, for yourself, and because you really, really, really wanted to try one of Clover Bakery's sweets.

It was time.

"Welcome in! Welcome to Clover Bakery! I'll be right with you in a moment!" A feminine voice sounded like it was in the back as the door to the bakery slowly chimed behind you, as if it was the death knell, signaling your demise. You trained your breath, in and out, and wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your skirt, willing yourself to calm down. You had to be strong! Trey and both his parents deserved a proper apology, even if technically you weren't the one who offended them. You had to fix this mess and you couldn't do it half assed!

"Sorry about that! We just finished the new batch of - oh."

Trey's mother was in front of you.

Trey's Mother was in front of you.

"I..." Your heart felt like it was going to give out. "I've come to apologize."

That obviously is not what she was expecting and judging by the widening of her eyes and the tightening of her posture, she didn't seem entirely willing to accept it but she stood there and didn't seem unwilling to hear you out so in your haste, you tripped over your words in eagerness to continue.

"Please," You lowered your head and gaze, nearly buckling under the stress, "at least hear me out. What I did - to you, your husband, your son, to Riddle - It was unacceptable."

You gulped and began the part you had rehearsed in front of your mirror. This part, while not necessarily the truth, would make the most sense.

"When I couldn't find Riddle in the room where I left him and the window opened, I panicked. I had always been very strict with Riddle and perhaps that's where I erred, where he thought that the only choice he had to enjoy an inch of freedom was to sneak out while I was unaware, So, when I couldn't not find him and found him with strangers, people I had never met before and knew very little of, I panicked."

"But what I ended up doing," Something wet fell from your eyes, "I hurt him. I hurt Riddle. I - I think that's what snapped me out of whatever idiotic beliefs I had. He wouldn't talk to me, he couldn't even meet my eyes-"

"I understand,"

Blinking past the tears, you looked up, watching as Trey's mother let out a long and weary sigh, "I may not forgive you for what you did yet, I can see you obviously mean what you're saying."

"You can?"

"Look at you. You're shaking like a leaf, you look nothing like the woman that came screaming in here for her son. Whatever happened between then and now obviously changed things."

You watched as she ducked behind the counter and wrapped something up in a small container and gestured for you to open your hands.

"Here," She closed your hands around it, "It's a strawberry tart. Those were Riddle's favorite right? I'm sure you can help mend whatever happened with something like this. It's on the house. Just... next time Riddle wants to play, let him. My son has been beside himself with worry ever since."

You held the tart close to your chest like she had just handed you the most precious thing you've ever owned and nodded your head, your once formerly primed and proper hair falling down your shoulders in wave from your excitement, "Thank you! Thank you so much... I will do whatever I can now. I won't make the same mistake again."

"Go on," You smiled, "Open it."

As soon as you returned home, you eagerly called for Riddle to join you at the family table, nearly tripping over your heels in your excitement as you carefully placed the boxed strawberry tart down. Riddle watched your expression carefully, eyeing the concealed treat from the corner of his eye. As much as he's enjoyed the past few months, this was a huge step forwards. It was almost as if he was scared that what he thought was going to happen wouldn't. What if this was an elaborate scheme? What if this was a big final test and he failed? What if-

"It's ok, Riddle," You reassured him with a low voice, pushing the small box closer to him as his eyes snapped to meet yours, "It's something really good, I promise." With a nervous look, he nodded.

You could hear his barely contained sniffles as he slowly began untying the ribbon, stopping periodically to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve, before the box opened and in the center was

the most beautiful strawberry tart he has ever seen.

His small sniffles soon erupted into wails, high pitched and heart wrenching as he sat there in his chair, his hands still in the air as his little body was wracked with tears. You couldn't hold back your own crying as you brought Riddle's small frame to your chest and hugged him tightly as he cried and cried and cried in your arm. His little fingernails dug crescents into your skin as he kept tugging you closer and closer, unwilling for there to be an space between you and him.

"My darling, Riddle," You sniffled back a tear as you dug your face into his red hair, feeling him hiccup and sob as you did the same, "I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #isekai #riddle rosehearts #congrats your riddles mama #twisted wonderland #platonic reader

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bunnyywritings · 2 months

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your husband, nanami kento comforts you after a car accident

i was in a car accident today and i just needed comfort so here’s a little something i wrote

slight TW: minor car accident and self deprecation

It all happened so fast.

One minute, you were at a red light. The next, it was green but the car in front of you broke so suddenly and you weren’t quick enough to react.

The sound of crushing metal made your eyes widen, your foot moving to step on the breaks but it was too late, the damage had been done. There was a dull ache in the back of your neck and your chest as you followed the car to a safe spot to pull over and park.

The man who you had hit was too kind given the circumstances, he asked if you were alright and waved off your insistent apologies.

Quickly exchanging information and taking pictures of the damage, your hands shook violently as you sat in your car and watched him drive away.

Moving on auto-pilot, you did the only think you could think of. You picked up your phone and dialed Kento’s number.

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you listened to the dial tone ring, what would he say?

You’re bothering him at work. You’re under his insurance, this will definitely impact his rate. God…and the cost. You definitely didn’t have the money to fix your bumper and he would most likely offer to take in the payment. You couldn’t do that to him. This was all your fault.

Why did you have to be such an idiot? Such a disappointment? How could you be so careless to-

“-everything alright?”

A shaky “Huh?” left your lips which had made Kento sit up suddenly in his seat. Making Gojo and Yuji frown in confusion.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?”

The care and concern in his voice was enough for the dam to open. Tears streamed down your face as you gripped the fabric of your pants with your free hand.

“K-Kento…” Your voice broken and wet had made him tense. “I got-I got into a car accident.”

A whirlwind of worry swirled in his chest. Where were you? Were you hurt? Were you safe?

“Where are you?” He quickly rose from his seat, grabbing his keys from his suit jacket and heading towards the door. “Okay, I’m on my way.” And with that, he hung up.

“What happened?” Yuji’s eyes shifted between Gojo and Nanami. You were one of his favorite teachers as Jujutsu High and the thought of something happening to you scared him.

“She was in a car accident.”

This concerned him greatly, distress clear in his eyes. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.” Nanami’s jaw was clenched as he made his way out of the room, rushing to his car.

“Don’t worry kid.” Gojo patted his head. “He’ll take care of it.”

You had sent your location to Nanami, all that was left was to wait.

You had long since shut off your car, staring i to the emptiness in front of you, trying as much as you could to control your cursed energy, not wanting to cause anymore harm.

When Kento pulled up to the scene, he was relieved to see no emergency vehicles around but that relief was gone immediately once he saw the detached bumper of your car.

As he approached, he noticed the dazed look on your face. You had dried tear stains down your cheeks, your mascara a little smudged around your eyes as you stared into nothing. He could also feel your struggle to keep your cursed energy at bay.

His concern sky rocketed when he pulled open the driver’s side door and you still hadn’t reacted. He knelt down so he was at eye level with you.

“Love? Are you alright?” He whispered, gently brushing some hair behind your ear. That seemed to snap you out of your trance. Your head snapped over to look at him, eyes finding his.

His heart shattering when your face crumpled in anguish and fresh tears spilled from your eyes. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, m’so sorry Kento! M’sorry-!” You were in hysterics. Apologizing through hiccups.

He couldn’t have been more confused. Why were you apologizing?

Nonetheless, he helped you out of your car and guided you into his arms. Holding you so tightly and breathing a sigh of relief. Reminding himself that you were alive. That you were okay. That you were in one piece.

He held you as you sobbed, clinging to the back of his shirt as he cradled the back of your head and placed a kiss to the top of it.

Once your cries died down and you pulled away from him, he decided to ask you.

“Why’re you apologizing?” He wasn’t being accusatory or anything, his tone was soft and gentle.

“B-Because I interrupted you at work and-and your insurance is gonna go up and I have to get the bumper replaced and-“

“Hey, hey…” He cooed, hands cradling your jaw, thumb lovingly caressing your cheekbone and wiping your tears. “Are you injured?”

You frowned. “No.”

“Were they injured?” He was met with a shake of the head. “I don’t care about the insurance rate going up, I don’t care if I need to pay to have your car fixed. I wouldn’t even bat an eye if I had to buy you a new car entirely. All I care about is that you’re safe. That you’re not hurt. A car is an object. It’s replaceable. You are not.” He removed a hand from your face and reached down to grab your left hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your engagement band and wedding ring with such reverence and care.

“I made a vow to take care of you. Whether that means taking care of you when you have the flu or paying for anything you need.”

This made even more tears flow down your cheeks. “I was so scared, Ken.” He frowned at your confession.

“I know pretty, but you’re okay. I’ve got you.” He continued to press kisses to your palm and wrist. “I left a few of my things at the school but if you wanted to go straight home, then I can just grab them tomorrow.”

“No, that’s okay.” You wiped your cheeks. “We can grab your things first.”

And so you did, his hand was in yours the entire drive there. Only letting go when you left the car.

When you both walked into his office, you were met with an enthusiastic shout of your name and a relieved Yuji pulling you into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.” His genuine admission brought a sad smile to your lips.

“You really had us worried there, Nanami looked like he was seconds away from a heart attack.” You frowned at Gojo’s admission, hating that you caused him to worry so much.

“Of course I was, she’s my wife you idiot.” He then turned to you with a smile. “Come on, let’s go home.” You gripped his hand and let him lead you back to his car.

He noticed the wince you hissed out as you pulled your seatbelt on. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah…I guess since the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m probably just sore.”

“Then let’s get you into a warm bath. Hmm?” He kissed the back of your hand.

You were gonna be okay.

He’d make sure of that.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento comfort #jujutsu kaisen comfort

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highly-flammable · 6 months

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While Peeta’s declaration of love for Katniss on national television was certainly in order to gain attention for both himself and Katniss, the deeper meaning to it is way more important.

Peeta, no matter how well he could play the audience, deep down resented the idea of the games. For him, the biggest slap in the face to the Capitol that he could give was to highlight the brutality of it on national television. This was very heavy-handed in his interview in CF, but it is equally a driving force in THG.

In CF, he put the focus on a family being broken up and destroyed, because he claimed he and Katniss were married with a baby she was carrying. But Peeta putting the spotlight on loss is a common element in his first interview as well.

Since he was distant with his family and had already been callously alluded to as good as dead by his mother, he was not going to point out how his family will be losing their youngest son. If you look at Katniss’ first interview, her role as the elder sister who needed to get back to her little sister was the emotional hook. Peeta could not have used his family in order to drive a similar sense of tragedy. Even if he could by lying, I don’t believe he could have brought himself to do that.

Then how does a boy who doesn’t think his family needs him, a boy who is certain he is going to die, make a statement to the Capitol? How does he contribute to the sense of tragedy? By sharing his longing for the one connection he wishes he had. While he didn’t force Katniss to respond to his declaration, what he did do through his interview and subsequent actions (teaming up with the careers to mislead them, staying up all night to watch over her when they have her trapped in the tree, getting her to run after the tracker jacker attack), was making it clear that when he dies, Katniss will lose out on someone that really really loves her. That is the tragedy, that even if she lives, she lost out. He, with all his love and all his best intentions would have made her happy, could have been happy with her, if not for the Capitol.

Knowing Peeta’s character, I am going to say that he even felt like he could make that declaration because he didn’t believe there were any way he could have survived the games. Both of them being alive at the end was obviously an unimaginable scenario so there was no circumstance in his mind where he believed Katniss would be forced to reciprocate.

People have this uncharitable assumption that Peeta did this to get Katniss to be with him, but the truth is precisely the opposite. The two of them being together only became a possibility after the rule change and Katniss coming to find him, and even then, Peeta was pointing out that while they might play the audience, they themselves know it’s an act. The reason he got confused and believed it was genuine later on was because Katniss risked her own life to save his and because on some level it was genuine and he could feel it.

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark

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azzibuckets · 25 days

Text

Paper Rings [Part 5/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: the morning after

a/n: i love making people cry so some pretty angsty stuff up ahead 😁 forgive me for turning paige into a slight asshole

word count: 1.8k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR AGO

The green LED light on Paige’s alarm clock blinked 3:07 AM. Paige had been up for the past two hours. Tossing and turning seemed like the right phrase, but she didn’t want to wake you, so all the turmoil stayed inside her head.

A burst of warmth ran through her body and flooded her senses whenever she looked at you. You were curled up against her side, lightly snoring. You looked so soft in the moonlight, and Paige wanted to take a photo of you like this and ingrain it inside her brain. But her mind’s been running non stop for the past 120 minutes, overcome with regret over what you two had just done.

Paige had always known of her tendencies. She wouldn’t call herself a player, because she never intentionally led girls on. She always made it clear to her one night stands what they were - a hookup, with no strings attached. But some girls never seemed to get it. Every so often there would be someone who got attached to Paige after just one night together and ended up leaving her apartment in tears, cursing her name. She hated when that happened, hated seeing them cry.

So she vowed to herself never to sleep with you. Not because she didn’t want you, because God knows how many sleepless nights she spent in this very bed, dreaming about the pink of your lips and the curve of your hips. But because she knew how complicated things would get. Your friendship was the one thing that had remained stable in Paige’s life the past few years. There mere thought of losing you made her heart pound and head throb.

So Paige had stayed strong. Never mind all those moments where her hands had lingered on your waist a little too long, or the fact that the wallpaper of her lock screen and home screen were both pictures with you, or the fact that you were the only person pinned on her messages app besides her family. She knew she couldn’t have you.

Paige brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, letting the pad of her thumb trail down your cheek. You stirred in your sleep, a smile drifting faintly across your lips, and shifted closer to her, burying your face in her abdomen. And in that moment, Paige realized two things.

#1. She was in love with you. Yeah, she’d always loved you as a friend. You were thoughtful and supportive, a best friend a person could ask for. But beyond that, you made her feel seen. To you, Paige wasn’t just a basketball player or a pretty face. You had broken through her barriers and made the effort to know her on every level, and that was what Paige in love with you.

#2. She didn’t deserve you. Paige thought back to all those times she’d canceled on movie nights because somehow she’d ended up again at the bar with her teammates, flirting with pretty girls while the prettiest girl sat alone in her room. Or when she’d briefly dated Anna, who had apparently been cold to you for their entire relationship, always making snide comments when Paige wasn’t around. But you had saw how happy Paige was (but not as happy as she was whenever she was with you), and had kept silent, not wanting to ruin Paige’s relationship. And even though Paige had broken up with Anna as soon as she’d found out about her behavior, she couldn’t quiet the voices in her head blaming her for letting someone treat you like that. You were the best person in the world, Paige thought. And you deserve someone who can give you all of that. Not me.

So after having come to those two conclusions, Paige knew what she had to do.

——————————-

You woke up in a daze. Checking your phone, you realized it was only 8 AM. Tired, you slumped back into the pilllow. The events of last night only came back to you when you moved the sheets of Paige’s bed and saw your bra.

You couldn’t help but smile as memories of fisted sheets, shaking legs, and hands intertwined in each other’s hairs came flooding back. You pressed your fingers to your lips, the lips that Paige had kissed over and over again just hours before. You and Paige had slept together, and everything had felt so right. And god, that was the best head you’d ever gotten.

Getting up, you heard clattering in the kitchen and footsteps outside. Assuming it was Paige, you didn’t bother to cover up when the door swung open, but your mouth fell open when you came face to face with Azzi.

“Oh my god!” Azzi shrieked. Both of you stared at each other for a second before you grabbed the comforter off Paige’s bed to cover your body. “Get out, get out, get out!” you yelled.

Azzi slammed the door. Heart beating fast, you rushed to find your clothes. “Did I just see what I thought I saw?” Azzi yelled from the other side of the door.

“Azzi Fudd, I will smack you,” you yelled back as you started to pull on your jeans.

“Did you and Paige sleep together?” She screamed. “Oh my god, she’ll kill me if she finds out I walked in on you like this.”

You fiddled with the buttons on your jeans. “That’s why we’re gonna keep this a secret. You’re not gonna tell anyone we slept together.”

“What?! But now Aaliyah and Nika owe me twenty dollars,” she complained.

You tugged on your shirt. “I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just tell me that three of our closest friends made a bet on us sleeping together.” You opened the door and glared at a sheepish Azzi. “Now where the hell is Paige?”

“I dunno. I heard her leaving an hour ago. I thought I was home alone. You scared the shit out of me,” Azzi side eyed your sex and bed hair, and you ran your hand through it, trying to make it look less messy. “So, how was it?” Azzi leaned towards you with a sly smirk on her face. “Was it good?”

“Oh my god, Azzi.” You pushed her out of the way and grabbed your purse from the couch. “I’m leaving. You better keep your mouth shut.”

“No promises!” Azzi called after you, cackling as you left the apartment.

—————————

5 DAYS LATER

“Open the fucking door, Bueckers.” You rapped on the door of Paige’s apartment, impatiently tapping your foot as you waited.

After you heard noises from inside but she still refused to open the door, you knocked even harder. “I know you’re in there, asshole. Azzi told me you’ve been in here the entire day.”

Finally the door swung open, and I laid eyes on Paige for the first time since we’d slept together 5 days ago. Her hair was in a messy low bun, and she was wearing her grey UConn sweatpants and a sports bra. You ignored the blush that rose from your neck from seeing her bare abdomen, all sculpted and taut, and instead glared at her.

“What the fuck, Paige? You haven’t responded to any of my texts and calls in the last week. Are you seriously ghosting me?” You pushed past her into the apartment.

Paige stared at you, still not saying anything. The last five days had been hell. You knew that sleeping with your best friend would change things. It would be awkward, and unsure, but you and Paige have always been able to figure everything out. So you didn’t expect for her to drop all communication with you, leaving you alone in bed the morning after and then ignoring all your attempts to talk to her after.

Paige smirked at you, but it wasn’t tantalizing and seductive like the last time you saw her. It was sharp, calculated, like she knew something that you didn’t. “Damn, I was that good, wasn’t I?”

“Paige, I need you to be serious right now.” Your voice was rising in pitch, your frustration showing. “We need to talk about us.”

Paige folded her arms, and she had never looked so distant. “What is there to talk about?”

You pushed her, not hard, but enough for her to stumble back. “Okay, so you fucked your best friend, and now you don’t even wanna talk about it?”

Paige swallowed, and she looked away. “We lost in the Final Four that night.”

“Yeah, so?” Your face was flushed red with anger, and you felt hot all over. “What’s that gotta do with anything?”

She turned back to look at you. Her face was impassive now, and you wondered at who this girl in front of you was. It seemed like you didn’t even know her, this version of Paige. “It was a tough game,” she said curtly. “I needed to blow off some steam, and you were there.”

I needed to blow off some steam, and you were there.

You physically recoiled. Those words resounded in your mind, ricocheting from every corner, repeating itself until you went numb. You tasted something bitter in your mouth, a confirmation of what you had been worrying yourself sick about 24/7 for the past several days. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Paige regarded you coolly. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you thought that night was a declaration of love or something. I mean yeah, you weren’t bad for your first time, but it was just sex.”

A jumble of something terrible and bitter began brewing in your stomach. It was a mixture of anger, and horror, and shock and pain, threatening to spill over. You didn’t know whether you wanted to sob or throw up. That night you had basically admitted to Paige that you had wanted her for so long but…had you been so foolish to believe that she actually liked you back?

“You’re really nothing but a slut, huh,” you scoffed. You felt like a dagger was stabbing you, brutally piercing you in the heart as those words were spit from your mouth, but you were so angry, so furious, you couldn’t stop. “You don’t care about anything but getting laid. You’re so fucking shallow.”

For a moment, you thought you saw hurt flash through Paige’s eyes. But she quickly recovered, and her face turned stony again. “I’m not the one who was like a little fan girl, so desperate that you jumped on me as soon as I gave you the chance.” Her lip curled.

We, whatever we were, were over, and we both knew it. We were throwing out insults, maiming each other in an attempt to mollify our own hurt. We were drowning, and you knew it, god you knew it, your lungs felt on fire and you felt like you were losing everything in my life all at once. And you were too weak to stop it. Too cowardly to apologize, to take all your words back, to tell her you loved her so much, that you would be willing to stay friends and only friends and ignore the fact that you were heads over heels for her, just so she would stay in your life and you could go back to what you were before you made the most stupid decision of your lives.

But none of that came out. Instead, you said words that you didn’t mean.

“Don’t talk to me ever again, Bueckers. I fucking hate you.”

“Gladly.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x you #uconnwbb #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #wbb #wcbb

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courtofterrasen · 1 month

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Alright, clearly some of you guys are just not getting it. So no more emotion from me; I am simply going to write in factual terms.

It takes a VAST amount of work to go into creating a series like Bad Batch. You have to go through writing, scene painting, 3D modeling, rigging, lighting, SFX, voice lines, editing, final production, etc; just to name a few. It takes hours upon hours upon hours of work for those animators to create all of the nuances in a scene, let alone in Bad Batch where there is an extremely high level of attention to detail. It’s not like anime where a character and background are mostly stationary while they talk. There’s constantly stuff happening in the background and they intentionally make choices that provide extremely little to the overall story and, in all honesty, take up a significant amount of their time and can be argued that they’re wasting their time and money and effort (I don’t think so, but I’m sure people could argue it if they thought that effort should be allocated elsewhere). But they do it because it provides a deeper sense of realism to the story as a whole and make it feel like a living, breathing world. For example, when a character trips a little bit or they animated them doing something slightly harder than it would have been otherwise or eyes darting around and studying someone. These are all very little things that take them hundreds of hours to get perfect. And those are the kinds of things that go unnoticed by the vast majority of people watching the show. Either because they don’t noticed the little detail that was put in at all, or they don’t understand the level of work that goes into creating little minute decisions like that. And all of those decisions that they make, both big and tiny, are given to them in specific instructions by the directors. When you think about the insane amount of work that goes into creating a show like Bad Batch, you realize that every single little detail that they choose to add in is intentional and was given to them via specific instruction. It’s not like in live-action shows where the actor can choose to make a subtle decision on the fly. There are hundreds of thousands of hours of work that go into this and every choice that they make is intentional. The lighting dept. has even confirmed this for us, saying that all of the lighting that they did was done very carefully and intentionally and to pay attention to what’s happening in the scene. Because there’s an extremely high level of detail that’s put into the show, based off of very detailed instructions that were presented to them.

Now. Taken all of these points into account, it’s critical to look at all of the little choices that were made when it comes to her character and the way that both she interacts with the world and the people around her, as well as how they, in turn, respond to her. Because, like the lighting dept. has already made very clear to us, every design choice they has been made in the creation of the show is 100% intentional. Even if that’s not something that they had said or wasn’t something you were aware of, when you focus on the aspect of animation, it’s sometimes hard to get a clear grasp on just how long it takes them to do these things. And that every little choice that they made was carried out under specific instruction. And that’s not even getting into the nuances of voice acting and understanding the subtle distinctions in the way someone talks and being able to discern the meaning behind their words based on dialect and the instructions they were given. And for someone who just casually watches the show, absolutely none of these are important. They’re watching it to watch it and no further thought is put into it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. People are allowed to watch things at a surface level and get enjoyment out of it.

For every character, they can be broken up into various parts:

•Their visual appearance

•Their behavior

•Their interactions with others and the world

•How others respond to their character

•Their small, subtle behaviors (such as a particular twitch or repetitive body movement that can be used to convey a deeper meaning)

•And their internal motives

In that order from the least to most complex. And these topics can also be used to understand the complexity of a character. For someone like Cid, all of these topics are touched on in a variety of ways.

•She’s different from them

•She’s gruff and money hungry

•She speaks to the Batch like they’re a bunch of kids and she knows better than them

•They never fully bring themselves to trust her and, at times, they see her has a burden

•Towards the end of their time together, she gets snappier, and whenever she’s around them her movements slow ever so slightly and she furrows her brows slightly a lot more than in the past

•And in the end, she betrays them

And that’s putting her character into a single sentence for every bullet point, which, for well written characters like Cid or Hemlock or Rampart or Nala Se, cuts a lot of things out.

When it comes to the way that Phee is written and what she contributes as a whole to the show, she is not a very complex character. I’m not going to go into every single scene with her, but I am going to touch on a few. And if I need to continue the discussion further to cover more scenes, then I will. On multiple instances, she puts the Batch into very dangerous situations, and overall appears to care very little for them as people unless it gets her something that she wants. This is made very evident when, for example, she gets Omega, a child, excited about a big grand adventure and Omega then convinced the Batch to go along with it. Even though they were very adamant about not doing it. This is said with both their words and their tense body language. They don’t want Omega to get hurt and they know it’s a bad idea; but in the end she’s able to convince them. Then, when they get to the site, she shows clear lack for them or their safety and proceeds to put them in a very dangerous situation where someone could have gotten seriously hurt or killed. And she shows no remorse for it. Her language, both verbal and bodily, are very loose and nonchalant, assuring them that she had everything under control and that they were able to handle it, despite their very clear frustration. This type of behavior is shown again and again and again as they continue to interact with her. Her actions relay to the viewer that she does not respect their boundaries, or arguably, them as people. Her words are designed to be rocks with a pretty bow on them. And again, this is not personal opinion or speculation. Every single word and action was carefully designed by the team. All the tensed muscles were created by a team of people working very hard to convey that to the audience. Every thinly veiled word was guided by a director when the VA came in to record the sessions. Every single choice was intentional for a very specific reason.

Tech likes things in a very specific way. He likes his ship to be in a particular order and takes very good care of its maintenance and upkeep. He prides himself on being able to maintain a good ship. He spends a lot of time on his data pad. It’s how he was designed on Kamino. That’s his link to his role in the group. He can do everything he needs to from there and, in certain scenarios throughout the show, you can see it provides him with a sense of comfort and stability. You can see this, not only in his subtle body language, but also in his fairly obvious body language with how he hunches over it. It’s reminiscent of a child hunching over a toy to bring it closer to them and protect it. It comforts him. You can also see, when he interacts with the rest of the Batch, his aversion to touch. It’s not significantly often that you see it, given that the rest of the Batch knows him better than anyone, but there are still times when physical contact or even just very close proximity happens and he either has a reaction by tensing up slightly or leaning away from it, or sometimes he doesn’t react to it at all and almost seems to not register it; such as when he’s focused on his work. Every little reaction that he has with his brothers was scripted and orchestrated for a very specific purpose. It conveys the nuances of who he is as a unique and individual person.

Keeping that in mind, when it comes to the way she interacts with Tech specifically and the Batch, it’s very clear to understand the dynamic behind them when you look close enough. To recall a few instances, there was a time when she was recounting a story about finding a big treasure and Tech says something along the lines of “she changes this story every time she tells it”. He’s conveying to both the people in the show and us as viewers that she is a liar. She is either changing the story to make herself seem cooler, or maybe it didn’t happen at all and she’s making the entire thing up. Which, I will briefly mention again, are traits synonymous with narcissists. In another instance, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker were having a conversation where Tech is reprimanding them for bringing items back from a junkyard that they were in that they thought were cool instead of what he asked them to go find and bring back for him. I’m this conversation, Phee inserts herself and tells Tech that it’s not junk; also, in that same instance, not calling him by his name, which I will get to in a minute. Tech, in that moment, is trying to work, and his conversation with the other two was interrupted and fizzles out as Omega gets excited about the idea of a treasure map. A third is when the group is on Pabu and Phee is trying to get Tech to converse with her. His body language is hunched, tense, and he averts eye contact with her. When she prods him further, he is unsure how to engage in the conversation. And when he doesn’t respond in the way that she’s wanting him to, she talks about him to the rest of the Batch as he stands there around him and says to them how he “doesn’t know how to have fun”. And then they proceed to laugh at him. And again, you can see in his body language that he is confused as to why they’re laughing at him as well as uncomfortable being in that situation. And going off of that for another small fourth instance, there is another moment when they are getting ready to leave Pabu and she approaches Tech, who is working alone and trying to avoid contact with anyone, and says to him “So you’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?” His body language immediately tenses, he hunches further in on himself around his datapad, and his words make it clear he is both unsure and unwanting of the conversation. And when he does not respond in the way that she wants him to, she moves the datapad away from him to make him focus on her. She removes the item that brings him the most security to force him into engaging in a conversation he is uncomfortable with having. And again, these are all very intentional choices. They are not left up for interpretation. They are there to tell us what the character is feeling in that moment. They are trying to convey to us that he is uncomfortable. Not that he’s shy around a girl he thinks is pretty. And given on other scenarios that have happened throughout the show, it’s very clear that interpersonal relationships with anyone outside of Omega and the Batch is not something that he’s interested in. If they wanted to convey that he found her attractive, there are routes they could have taken to ensure that that comes across correctly to the audience, such as a faint little blush or rubbing a hand through his hair. But they didn’t do that, and instead chose for him to shy away and hide from certain situations or tense up and keep his head down in others. They are conveying to us that he does not like being around her. Because every single action they made him carry out took hundreds of hours of work to execute, and they would not go through all that trouble for no reason.

Branching off of that, we reach the topic of Tech’s name. When you watch the series as a whole, you can count on one hand the number of times that Phee refers to Tech by his actual name, while she refers to the others as their actual names. This is different from Cid in the way that Cid made that intentional choice to call them different things as a way to maintain distance from them. It’s clear from both her body language and her words that she did not want to get close to them. And really, wanted nothing to do with them unless they made her money. These are intentional choices. Phee’s character is designed to be flighty and unbothered. And she wants what she wants when she wants it. The choice to call Tech names and refer to everyone else by their names is an intentional choice. Him not understanding why she does that is an intentional choice. She does not respect him, which is why she does this. She can see that he doesn’t know what to do about it, so she keeps doing it. Like when a person presses on a bruise. These are all intentional choices made by the directors.

There was also a comment that said she behaves exactly like Crosshair does. And there are a few things I think did not entirely process when they made that comment. The first being that Crosshair was written to be one of the main antagonists for the first two season. I know they appeared in Clone Wars as well, but I’m talking specifically about Bad Batch. He was designed to be a bad guy that goes through a redemption arc; just like Zuko did in ATLA, for those who enjoy it. They both started out as antagonists, had horrible things happen to them, realized along their journey that maybe they were wrong, and are able to redeem themselves in the end and side with, or in Cross’ case, return to, the protagonists. In the beginning Cross was very sharp and defensive and thought he knew what was best. But he grew over time and learned how to care for people and share his weaknesses instead of putting on a facade all the time. And that’s the difference. We are reaching the end of the series and Phee has never had character growth to the level that Crosshair has and softens and opens up to the rest of the group. She hasn’t had any character growth at all. She is still the same exact person she was when we met her. There have been characters who have appeared for significantly less time that her, and if you pay attention to them, they have had significantly more growth than her as well.

The problem that I have begun to notice with people who are so quick to defend her actions is that they seem to be focusing more on her than on anything else. When you focus on just her, I can see how someone could mistake these interactions for being positive. Because all they’re focusing on is someone who’s having fun, and of course that would translate to something positive for him. But for the people who focus on Tech, it becomes very evident that these interactions are not positive. When you watch Tech, and I mean actually pay attention to him and not just watch him, you see all the subtle signs that you would otherwise miss. Him being annoyed and uncomfortable and confused and tired and generally not enjoying being around her. And this, unfortunately, happens a lot in real life too. People don’t take the time to absorb both sides of what’s happening. And since we as humans are quicker to pick up on people who are happy as opposed to people who are not, it’s so easy to miss the signals and just assume that what you’re watching is a happy interaction and put forth no further effort into making sure that’s actually what’s happening.

There is no other way to say that these things are all intentional. They wrote, designed, and sent out something that they have spent the past few years creating. When you understand the level of work that was put into it all, there are a lot of things that become very clear. And sure, headcanons exist and people can speculate what happens between the episodes. But headcanons can only go so far before it becomes ridiculous. We cannot confirm that Echo didn’t run off to go have a quiet life with Cid, but that doesn’t automatically mean that it’s true. Inferring things that are not within the realm of possibility is not conducive. Assuming that Phee spent a lot of time talking about her adventures that she may or may not have had with the Batch between the episodes? That’s conducive and we have clear evidence that would support that. Assuming that her and Tech had a very close relationship and she always listens to what he had to say between episodes? As much as some people want it to be true, it’s just not. There is no evidence that supports that line of thinking, and, in fact, there is a vast amount of evidence that would actually conform the opposite; such as Phee talking over everyone and commanding the conversation, not respecting things that Tech says, etc.

I’m going to wrap this up by talking a bit more personally now. There are plenty of people assuming that I’m a racist or a misogynist or that my literacy skills are lacking or whatever, but because you’re upset that someone is calling out the awful behavior of someone you like doesn’t make it any less true. And that applies to both this type of situation and in real life. I know who I am and what I stand for, and you trying to tell me that I’m otherwise changes nothing. And defaulting to assumptions like that shows that either you do not watch the show with a more attentive eye, or that’s all that you see Phee for. A black woman. Both of which are issues.

People are allowed to not like black characters, even if they are black.

People are allowed to not like Asian characters, even if they are Asian.

People are allowed to not like female characters, even if they’re women (or AFAB people).

People are allowed to not like LGBTQ characters, even if they are queer.

People are allowed to not like neurodivergent characters, even if they are neurodivergent.

People are allowed to not like characters that display particular traits or thought processes, even if they share those same traits or thought processes.

People are allowed to not like characters if they think that the character is bad.

Also, for the people saying I’m using my autism as a shield clearly don’t understand how autism works? I don’t say that to be an excuse. I say that to provide context and reasoning behind the things that I say. Like many other neurodivergent people do. You all are getting pressed about the wrong things. If you want to debate the time and study I’ve put into the show because I genuinely enjoy it, then be my guest. But don’t throw out petty insults and waste everyone’s time. At least put forth some more critical thinking behind it and try to figure out why someone could be saying the things that they’re saying

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the-californicationist · 5 months

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a safe house

(Price/Reader) SFW - But MDNI on my blog please!

“Ghost! How copy? Riley, come in!” Price shouted into his headset.

You were sending cover fire over the fallen tree that you and your captain were hiding behind. Unfortunately, you’d been separated from the rest of your team. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were on the other side of the large, icy ravine, and they had done a good job drawing the enemy away from the target zone. Price kept trying to connect, but there was too much snow cover. A nasty blizzard was rolling in, and you needed to find better shelter, quickly.

“Captain! Enemy has been eliminated. We need to find shelter,” you tried to pull him up off of the ground.

He looked up at you, frustrated,

“Aye, Corporal, but they’ll be back. We need to find a way to warn the boys.”

“Look,” you showed him the map on your datapad, “Laswell said there’s an old town…I think she called it Khabnoye? It’s been abandoned for years, about two klicks away. There might be some old technology, radios, whatever. We can reach them on some long-range.”

“Alright, let’s move.”

It was a short distance, but the terrain was brutal due to the snow. You made it there by nightfall, and carefully approached the outskirts of the town, following Price’s lead to scope out possible enemy combatants. There was no one in sight. It truly was a ghost town, and you were justifiably creeped the hell out.

A small house was mostly intact near the very edge of the town, plenty of empty space around its edges, and only one broken window. You began to sweep the rooms, of which there were only three, noting that its prior occupants had left in quite a hurry sometime in the late 80s. You were fighting a nameless, secret war inside of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, so most of the towns you came across were similarly abandoned.

You stood in the kitchen with Price, catching your breath and unpacking your bag. He was starting up the small, convective space heater checking for high levels of radiation in the room, making sure it was sustainable for the night.

“Alright, let’s go dark. No lights, no comms until we get a better idea about what happened,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, sir. I did get a notification from Soap, but the message is unreadable,” you showed him the datapad before you powered it down.

He sighed,

“At least we know he’s alive and stable enough to send comms. We’ll work on connecting when this storm blows through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Drop the formality, Sparrow. Not spending the whole night listening to your sirs.”

He was upset. The operation was ruined, and he had no idea where his team was or if they were even alive anymore. You said nothing, letting him unpack two MREs and prep the bags for you. You checked the other rooms. There was a tiny, filthy bathroom without running water, and a bedroom with a dingy full mattress without sheets. You set to work arming the windows with night vision motion cameras - much good may it do you with all this snow - and rigged the front door.

“No use,” Price muttered, digging into his chili and beans MRE, starving.

“Why? You think we’re safe here?”

“No tracks in or out. No trash younger than me, and no pings for ten miles,” he showed you his passive EMP monitor, “Our tracks are covered by now with the storm. They’ll assume we rendezvoused back at the base. It was closer and easier to access.”

“Closer? Why’d you come here then?”

“Base might be compromised,” he shrugged, “Couldn’t reach McTavish, so we can’t assume anything at this point. Might as well get comfortable and wait til morning. This’ll clear once the sun comes out, and we’ll send an AM ping.”

You sighed a breath of pure relief,

“I know I’ve only been with you guys for a few months, but honestly, I don’t know what’s more impressive, your technology or your level-headedness under insane fire. Feeling very much like the amateur I am, Captain.”

“You handled yourself well out there, little bird. I’m impressed,” his praise rushed through you like adrenaline, and you basked in it.

“Thanks, Cap,” you smiled, drinking the broth of your soup and packing up your MRE trash into its bag.

“You smoke cigars, love?”

It was midnight before you even considered going to bed. You and Price had stayed up in the kitchen, smoking and chatting in the dark, only illuminated by the glow of your ashes. The snow fluttered down outside, layering itself on the ground like a pile of white sheets. There’d be at least two feet of it at the door tomorrow morning.

“...and I got this one in Amsterdam, chasing some smugglers out of the wharf. Motherfucker stabbed me right through the arm. Missed the bones, thank Christ. But, that’s not the bad one.”

You were telling each other stories about your scars, and you were in all states of dress. It was warm with the space heater, and you were comfortable around each other. Aside from admiring the mountainous swell of his shoulders and chest, you tried not to think much of it. He was hot, but he wasn’t interested. You just had a small crush. It would pass.

Okay, maybe a big crush. But, you had some self-control.

Some.

“Oh,” he leaned across the table to get closer and look at your arm, “What was the bad one?”

You blushed, not that he could see it,

“It’s in a certain spot. Not sure you want to - ”

“Don’t make me beg, little bird,” he smirked, rolling his eyes at your modesty.

He was right, of course. You weren’t sure why you were shy.

Liar. You were shy because you had an enormous, filthy crush on your commanding officer.

You tucked your elbow beneath your shirt and pulled it up over your chest, showing him your sternum,

“This one. It’s a - ”

“Flare burn,” he whispered, his demeanor changing from jovial to serious very quickly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

He was silent for a long time. You watched as Price too a big mouthful of cigar smoke before letting it billow around him, looking like a big, brooding dragon in the quiet room.

“How’d you get it?” He asked, avoiding your question.

“Enemy trap. They rigged the door to blow a flare. My vest, all my plate, none of it mattered. The flare burned so hot that it cut right through the gear like butter. If it wasn’t for our medic knowing that he needed to knock it out, I would’ve died. Three weeks in the med bay. It was bad.”

Price reached out slowly, almost as if not to scare you, and touched the circular wound. It wasn’t sexual, but that didn’t stop you from immediately feeling aroused by having his hands on you. You shuddered involuntarily, and he jerked his hand back. The silence in the room was suffocating.

“Sorry, little bird,” he whispered his apology, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you chuckled, taking a drag of his cigar for yourself, trying to calm down, “Uh, no.”

“What?” He prodded, not realizing what truth he was asking you for.

“It’s nothing, sir,” you stood up from the table, trying to escape, and forgetting you were in a 200 square foot house.

He stood with you, reaching out to touch your shoulder. You sighed into his contact against your will, feeling the stress of the day melt away as he did.

“It just…” You tried to throw him a hint, “Feels good, you know. To be touched. Been a long time… sorry, sir.”

“Told you to swallow those sirs, little bird,” he whispered in a low rumble, putting his other hand on your other shoulder, grabbing you gently.

There was very little space between your bodies now that you were away from the table, standing in the no-man’s-land between the bed and the kitchenette. It smelled like sweat and tobacco and 1987 in there, and you were breathing hard, nervous and desperate for him to do something to you that he couldn’t take back.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, not knowing what else to tell him.

Price lifted your chin up to meet his eyes, grabbing your jaw firmly, but gently. In the blackness of the night, the moon reflected only a little of his icy blue eyes, and the glow from his cigar made his face appear sharp and saurian. You didn’t expect for his touch to be so light. Just hours ago, he’d snapped a man’s neck with these same hands, and now he was passing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip like you were the petal of an orchid, careful not to bruise you.

“I’m trying,” his breath was ragged as he confessed, “I promise, I’m trying to let it go, little bird.”

“Let what go?” You put your hands on his hips, trying to steady yourself, feeling dizzy with lust and fear.

“My desire,” he put his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, struggling, “Turn me away. Please, little bird. End my fucking torment. I’ll never mention it again. I swear it.”

You kissed him, pressing your lips into his chastely but firmly, enjoying the heat and the smoothness of his skin, the smell and the feel of his beard, coated in tobacco smoke and his own sweat. The comforting spice of the chili lingering on his mouth. He breathed in like you’d pressed a hot iron brand into him, blissful pain radiating through his body, pulling you in close to his chest. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth against yours, moving your skull with his powerful jaws, leading you, commanding and strong in his desire.

“Love, don’t… don’t do this. Not unless you mean it. I’m bloody beggin’ you.”

You smiled, resting your nose alongside his, kissing him again slowly and carefully before answering him,

“I mean it, John. I mean it.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated! <3 <3

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price x reader #call of duty #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain price fluff #john price fluff #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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harrysonlylover · 1 year

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Hot Wheels (Mechanic H Part 3)

Summary: You find yourself in an unwanted situation, and you learn new things about Harry.

Warnings: Mentions of physical violence (not between Harry and yn), tons of fluff, possessiveness.

WC: 7.2k

A/n: hi!! Hope you like this part, its plot is divided into two, the other is part 4. I recommend you reread part 2 to refresh. Enjoy xx.

Mechanic H Masterlist

Two weeks ago your greatest concern was finding a book to read, mindlessly skimming the pages of ‘Little Women’ , then a week later you picked on your nails feeling antsy on what hydrangea pot to get as an apology for a green-eyed man that had no business to barge into your daydreams often.

The memory of these two weeks flashed before you as the same familiar forest eyes sliced daggers in your direction, Harry’s face was almost glued to yours, your foreheads touching as his jaw twitched. You didn’t know whether you should be afraid of him or worried for him.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, what are you doing here?” His voice was low and deep, he was not the same Harry who admired a necklace with you.

“Listen Harry I—“

“Oh Come on Styles, let us hear what she has to say too, aren’t you going to introduce us?” The brunette man from earlier spoke and you observed the change in Harry’s expressions whenever the guy addressed him.

“Fuck off Markson, this doesn’t concern you.” Harry wrapped an arm around your waist so tight prompting you to wince at the soon to form bruise.

The crowd got larger and larger , suffocating you and Harry in the center while men and women holding beer cups eyed you up and down and whispered between each other spiking your anxiety even more.

You were starting to realize how bad things had gotten, was it really necessary for you to speak to him?

The familiar sounds of changing tires and wrenches clicking together made you feel at ease; you got accustomed to Harry doing this type of work, so no matter who else is doing it , Harry is the first person to come to your mind.

You swallowed hard feeling your body heat up as the blood pumped fast through your heart, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a tight grip, you did too. Your hand squeezed his bicep since (besides being an asshole today) he tends to be respectful and would not throw you to the wolves by yourself.

But did you even have a choice? He was the only person you knew here.

“I don’t think so , let us have a look at her, maybe she’ll like it here.” The man grinned, clasping his hands behind his back , earning a laugh from his friends around him.

“Remove that thought out of your head now, unless you want a broken arm again. How’s it healing by the way? Was it displaced or comminuted?” Harry replied with a stern tone, hinting to sarcasm at the end of his sentence making people around you murmur as the guy’s expression darkened.

“We’ll see who’ll be laughing after I win the race and get the chick.” The man deadpanned and you wondered if Harry’s jaw was going to crack from how tensed he was.

“Are these like your resolutions for the night? Kinda looks like you rehearsed that line.” The crowd followed with laughter and a chant of ‘Styles’.

The man raised his middle finger to Harry and turned on his heels with his friends following him like some minions. The gathering of people around you slowly dissolved as Harry looked around frantically to see if anyone is watching.

When he felt that you’re all clear he relaxed his grip on you but kept it around your skin for precaution. He noticed how you unsettled you were, your fingers trembling from fear. He cupped your cheek with one hand raising your chin up to his face level.

“We’ll deal with this later, but it doesn’t mean I’m letting it go. Right now there’s something I need to take care of” His voice was as delicate as a bluebird since he tried to soothe you as much as he could.

“Are you a car racer Harry? Is this illegal? What does that man want from me? I can get him money if—“ You ranted anxiously as tears welled in your eyes.

“Shhhhh, nothing will happen to you, I won’t allow it.” His voice got softer if that was even possible as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You could feel everyone’s gaze on you as if you were an alien or a weird outsider, and maybe you were. Dressed up in a pink cardigan and denims while being surrounded with people wearing shorts and cargo pants leaning against walls or cars showing off their tattoos, some making out or grinding against each other while the remaining lot are fixing cars that appear to be ready for racing.

“Harry listen can we go home now I swear I won’t tell anyone about this.” You begged feeling cold despite the thick cardigan you have on.

“Darling do I look like a scary mafia man to you?” He attempted to joke except that the word ‘mafia’ made you shiver even more.

He laced his fingers with yours leading you to one of the racing cars men were working on, and conversed with them about topics that are still unfamiliar to you despite spending a good amount of time watching him fix cars.

And then it hit you again. A small crowd pointing at you and laughing , the smell of fuel and sound of metal, the cold chilly air carrying the scent of trouble. Your chest tightened up and you could barely control your shaking to tug Harry’s jacket whispering his name silently.

“Hey, hey it’s okay” You’re not sure if you stood shivering and panting for an hour or if he held you quickly ,he slowly guided you into deep breaths, urging you to look at him and him only.

Maybe it was your brain tricking you or you hallucinated for a hot minute from how shaken you were, but you could swear the hydrangeas flashed before you when you concentrated on his green eyes.

“That’s a good girl, now more breaths and close your eyes.” You did as ordered allowing the cold air to hit your nostrils and fill your lungs before letting it out slowly.

“A bit better?” he questioned and you nodded timidly noticing a slight wince on his face.

“Hey Styles, so who-“ a random man came up from behind you.

“Leave from my fucking face right now.” Harry shifted his attitude immediately, his voice dropping poison as he glared angrily at the man behind you that you heard scurry away.

One of the mechanics whispered something in his ear and he nodded , moving closer to the car and opening its door. “Get inside”

“What?” You deadpanned feeling like it’s a prank of some sort.

“Inside the car. Now.” His tone was getting serious as he had a hand laid on the door with the other on his hip.

“No, I said I wanted to leave and—“

“We can’t leave , you chose to come here. I have a race right now and I don’t trust you with anyone around here, you will not stand near anyone that is not me. Which means you’re attached to my hip until I drive you home.” He motioned for you to enter with his eyes and you had no choice but to swallow hard and get in.

“H-harry there’s only one seat.” You mumbled staring at the interior of the car designed for racing , having the driver’s seat with nothing else.

He hummed cheekily crossing his arms against his chest. “Rumor has it that my lap is a nice seat, I mean that’s what goes around.”

After convincing yourself that you won’t die or get run over by some creepy racer man (which isn’t even logical), you surrendered to the comforting mechanism of deep breaths and observed everyone to get a tiny hint of what is happening since Harry refuses to tell you

He is stationed outside the car, as a matter of fact he didn’t budge an inch. One of the guys who seem friendly or not ‘murderous’ tipped you a light smile but made sure to give his entire attention to Harry, looking very into him which you wouldn’t be shocked about as all men and women here are fawning over Harry, including you.

He opened the car door ushering you to step outside for a minute before propping himself in the driver’s seat and patting on his lap for you to sit on making you gulp hard.

“Zayn’s got everything handled, cmon it’s show time”. His grin was wide and you couldn’t believe that he is enjoying whatever this is.

You reluctantly inserted your left foot inside, ducking your head and laying half your weight on the remaining empty space of the seat, which was barely enough for your knee, as Harry’s bulkiness is taking up the space.

He adjusted the seat backwards and helped you to get seated by holding your forearms and allowing your legs to be dangling comfortably on both sides of his outer thighs, gently urging you to let your center sit above his crotch. You found yourselves in a lotus position, which was too awkward for two individuals in a feud.

He guided your head to his left shoulder, near his neck where your nose unintentionally grazed the skin, taking in his pine shower gel and aftershave odor.

“Can’t have your face cloud my vision now , can I?” You can feel his deep voice rumbling from his chest now that you are laying against him.

Harry appeared to be unbothered by this whole ordeal, maybe even accustomed to having people in his lap which you didn’t really want to think about. But did he ever see them on a daily basis and act nice, then tuck their head in his neck?

Your heart was going faster than any racing car nearby, and regulating your breath in this position was unmanageable, he made you as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first day, he can even feel all the pumping with how quiet the car is, veiling any outer unwanted noise.

“Harry can you move? Am I crushing you?” You muttered under your breath hoping he heard you as you’re too anxious to say anything else.

“Shh.” He snaked a hand around your waist , flaunting a calm demeanor and tapping his feet along to a beat he’s humming.

You decided to remain quiet and not ponder any further, if not for the situation you’re in, you’d sleep soundly immediately. Harry signaled something that you cannot see to the guy named Zayn. Your head was facing the window and you spotted a man in the center holding a flag.

They really are about to race.

You wish you had confidence like Harry, you’re not the one racing yet you’re worrying enough on his behalf. He placed a CD inside the CD player. Why does he need to play music for everything? There could be an apocalypse and this man will whip out some Vinyl or radio.

“Gonna hold on tight to me yeah?” He turned on the ignition allowing the engine to warm up and drove to the start line.

“Hmm I guess, what if you can’t drive because of me? I’m just really concerned—“

“Oh darling, I’m not the one you should be worried about.” You can almost see his smug vividly, but your thoughts were interrupted thanks to Gangsta’s Paradise by Coolio playing. The man in the center waved a flag and Harry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sped off in a race with the same guy who was bothering you earlier.

The song was still playing and you can hear Harry’s heartbeats in sync with the speed of the car, your eyes were shut and you held on to Harry like a Koala, too scared to let go or peek.

The engine roared while his foot never left the gas pedal, he effortlessly handled the dangerous turns with a smooth drift with only one hand, as the other refused to leave your waist.

He used the palm of his hand to shift the wheel, and you can feel yourself loosen up as Adrenaline kicked in slowly , so you allowed yourself to take a look. The man Harry is competing seems to be infuriated as you are ahead of him.

You wish you didn’t take a glance, the other guy has caught up with you and is trying to bump into the car, you were surrounded with high fence walls, it wouldn’t end well for both of you if he gets to do it.

“Harry look he wants to—“

He hummed rubbing soft patterns against your skin asking you to not worry about it, any sane person would shout and freak out even more but when his fingers touched your bare skin you didn’t question him any further.

Harry abruptly spun the car catching both you and the man off guard, as the latter slowed down. Harry continued driving but in backward motion which was more dangerous and way harder. He was only using the front mirror for directions and he still nailed every drift and turn perfectly.

The other car was trying to cross over, but Harry turned into a professional menace. He mimicked the man’s moves, blocking his way whenever he attempted to pass, shifting to the left with him and to the right when he dared.

You could not take in Harry’s focus at the moment, neither how talented he is, as if he invented car racing. His body was relaxed in the seat and legs stretched to reach the gas and brake pedals, your body was crushing him and he welcomed it with an embrace soothing you into a calm state, his hand never once separating from you despite your full ability to hold on to him.

You wish you could properly see his biceps flexing as his other hand gripped the steering wheel absently without second questioning like he’s been doing it since the moment he began walking. However you could feel his stomach clenching and contracting beneath you, his light panting almost not observable but how can you not, when the shape of his parted cherry lips is engraved deep in your mind.

He was able to drive in an opposite motion and do tricks on the other man who was about to hit a fence wall because of Harry despite driving in the right direction, and you don’t need to look to know that Harry is shooting daggers to him.

Harry was even bobbing his head to Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood and you figured that this can’t be his first time dealing with such races. No matter how he did it he always got to remind you of his stamina and you gulped at the thought of its intensity in other activities.

Out of all the tension in the car, Harry’s playfulness and your fear, the only thing that was left unaddressed is the thick bulge in his pants that began to form as you unintentionally grinded over his clothed crotch every time the car shifted.

Harry could not care less if four cars were onto him from ever side, he can always manage it. Yet can he handle the painful hard on you gave him? Or the way your cunt began to warm up and clench around him? He guessed that you have no idea about the last one so he stayed silent and spared you some flushed cheeks and instead lowered his nose, allowing it to graze your hair breathing in your strawberry shampoo.

As you began the third and final lap, it was evident that Harry is the winner, you could go and on and talk about his ability to drive backward when you struggle to park properly (back when you had a car).

“I love seeing petty boys try and challenge me, but I love it even more when I see the sore look on their face when they lose Daddy’s money.” He chuckled as he laid his chin on the top of your head, his eyes quickly drifting to the mirror to manage up till now the most dangerous drift, you felt yourself about to stumble but got balanced quickly thanks to his tight grip and ability to lift your weight up .

Superman by Eminem faded slowly as the chanting of ‘Styles’ became closer and closer before the flag was waved marking the end of the race and announcing Harry a winner. His arrogance would not allow him to stop there, he reached the center and flaunted circular spins in the car surrounding it with fume, hearing the crowd go crazy over him, you could’ve sworn the applause made his clothed cock twitch beneath you.

Harry brought his hand to lift your face up gently, finally getting a proper look at your face. He smiled delicately as if he didn’t just recreate Fast & Furious.

“Hi there, smooth ride, eh? Best driver in the Milky way.”

“Why the Milky way?”. You arched an eyebrow expecting a joke.

“I doubt it’s true but imagine an alien with a spaceship better than my car, they probably have the tools.” You looked into each other’s eyes before cracking up into a laughter fit.

He’s glad he got you to laugh, he knows he shouldn’t have made you go through that, but he had no choice.

Your moment of joy was interrupted by the other car arriving and stopping abruptly in haste, the man stepped out of the car looking furious , but to be fair he was more on the verge of tears.

“Cmon Styles face me.” He shouted making everyone murmur and look around between him and Harry in the car.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved the strand of hair from his forehead before puckering his lips. “Listen, I’ll be back this won’t take long yeah?”

He raised the volume of the song ,gently stepped out and locked you inside the car. You couldn’t hear anything that was said between them even when you turned off the CD player, the crowd hid him from view and their voices overpowered Harry’s.

He knew it would be better for you to not witness anything, you didn’t have to. The snarky kid Markson stood in front of him with a weak attempt at appearing powerful when Harry knows he’s just another rich kid with a tiny dick.

“Ah there he is, go on and tell them how you tried to kill me.” He sneered sporting a fake expression on his face.

Harry stood with his arms crossed trying to hold his laughter, Markson really is a dumb boy , he thought.

“Seriously a kid can gaslight me into giving him candy better than you.” Even Markson’s little minions laughed before he shot them a “glare” prompting them to stop.

“You’re just a liar, who’d do anything for money.”

“One that I earn with my hard work. Instead of kissing daddy’s arse for it.” Markson looked like he was about to start a physical fight yet he knows he isn’t of Harry’s fitness level but of course, he wouldn’t say it.

“Hey let’s go ask the hot chick what happened, we can get her a drink and have some fun.” Harry felt all the rational thoughts leave his brain and hot fume light up his body at the boy’s words.

Markson began strolling in the car’s direction but Harry stopped him with his arm as barrier, and threw him on the ground like a toy. He immediately bent down to his level, grabbing him by his collar taking in his frightened face.

“Listen here boy, she’s mine which means if I see you breathing the same air around her, you’ll wish for functional lungs, as a matter of fact if I see you here again your daddy will have to pay for your new legs.” Harry gritted his teeth as he threatened the boy who’s gulping hard.

Harry’s nostrils were flaring and he doesn’t even know why he got so worked up. He punched him in the face with the hand adorned with rings displacing his nasal bone.

“Consider it a kind warning.” He left him bleeding on the ground and kept walking towards the car. The looks he received were a mix of fear and respect.

“Yo Hot Wheels, your 10k?” Manny who dealt with the money earned shouted at him.

“This isn’t the time.” This was all Harry had to say before everyone scurried away, backing from the car where you have been waiting trying to know what’s happening.

He unlocked the doors and held his hand out for you before throwing his keys to Zayn and attaching his arm to your waist for the third time this night.

“What happened out there?” You questioned him as nothing yet was making sense.

“Nothing that you need to know, let’s go.” He deadpanned motioning in the direction of Layla parked nicely outside.

A familiar voice shouted your names making you halt and turn around. “Hey wait up!” Niall screamed as he ran to catch up with you.

“Harry listen I—“

“I figured you’re the one who drove her here. I’m not sure you’d want to speak; you have 5 seconds to leave. I’d hate to show you what happens if you don’t.” His voice was deep and threatening, and Niall looked shameful.

“I can explain just let—“

Despite Niall driving you to this place, you can’t be too mad at him, you didn’t even wait up for him to escort you and he might have thought you know about these races.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Harry it’s my fault too.” You muttered next to him , wincing at the sight of Niall.

“Never said it isn’t, we’ll talk later.” His gaze didn’t avert from Niall once and you huffed knowing how stubborn he is. Niall was gone before Harry reached the number four, you both went inside Layla and you felt as if you were back to zero with him.

“I’m taking you to mine’s no questions asked, we need to talk and it’s better for you if you stick with me tonight.” He did that move again with his palm on the steering wheel and you observed him as he drove without another word.

Harry isn’t exactly sure why he did that to Markson, he doesn’t even understand the necessity behind taking you home with him. He answers the questions in his mind with unreasonable answers and he wonders if he’s trying to convince himself or you, as if you could read his thoughts.

What pisses him off more is that he unconsciously wants to win your side despite you being more wrong than him, and for that to happen, he’s going to need help from a companion at home.

During the car ride you let your head rest against the window feeling too lost in Stray by Yellow House playing, Harry’s driving was the absolute opposite of the race, his demeanor changed into a relaxed state, however the silence was uncomfortable.

You noticed how you got a bit further away from town, but it’s not like you minded, your life was dependent on him an hour ago. Would it really matter if you question your whereabouts?

The headlights were on to stir away the darkness of the night, you can smell the leather seats and Harry’s cologne reeking off his skin where your nose was attached for a good twenty minutes.

The thick rosy cardigan you have on felt like a warm hug against your skin but you took it off , allowing the night breeze to touch all over your body, impale your senses as it carried the scent of the forest you’re passing by. The smell of the soil and the roots dug deep inside, and the baby flowers waiting for Spring’s permission to blossom and arrive.

A deep breath after the other was taken as you were mesmerized, the road was empty so you laid your head on the trim of the window, closed your eyes and felt everything consume you all at once.

It wasn’t until Harry changed the song to ‘Lovers rock’ by TV girl that you snapped back to reality and drifted your gaze to find him staring at you without once looking out to the road.

For a minute you didn’t want to worry whether you crash into a car or a tree, you held the eye contact and realized that he’s the first person whose presence was almost invisible but tender, you acted as if you were alone around him, no anxiety, no thoughts. Just a simple melody that he’s playing and the breeze in your nostrils.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned him on his staring.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He replied in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, flexing his face muscles in a bizarre way.

You knew that move well, you’d done it a million times to help the soreness in your face when you refused to let out a smile.

Soon enough the trees bid you a goodbye and instead welcomed a huge field filled with green beauties and in its center sat a house with a dim light. Harry drove on a path that seems to have gone under maintenance especially to reach the little house, the more you approached it the more you got to peer at it.

Its walls painted with sunflower yellow, windows’ frame a blue that reflects the sky. A beige wooden chair is placed under the window (perfect for an afternoon read!). A row of hydrangea pots was organized to create a perfect display, it was so different from the one in the garage.

They ranged from white, blue and pink to violet and green. Suddenly your view was veiled by Harry who stood in front of you making you aware of the engine stopping and your hands cupping your cheeks as you stared in awe at the house.

He opened the car of the door for you , helping you to balance yourself since his car’s level is really low, he grabbed your cardigan advising you to put it on mumbling something about the flu.

You were still gasping and letting out ‘Oooh’s at the pretty hydrangeas. You didn’t even know they existed in green. The door was painted a blue lighter than the window frames, one that’s similar to the sea.

Should you tell him that his house is the Sun, Sky and Sea?

“You can freshen up in the bathroom on the left, I’ll make something for us to eat.” He said as he let you inside his surprisingly cozy home.

You scurried to the bathroom before you did your inspection, you might have spotted a Vinyl player that you urgently need to test (for entertainment purposes). You can hear Harry’s movements as he walked around, opened the refrigerator and chopped up something.

You washed your face with warm water to freshen up and went outside to see Harry cooking onions in a pan with teary eyes, he must’ve taken his jacket off as he stood in a white tanktop and leather jeans, his hair was clipped back in a sprout to avoid getting it in his face and the pan.

The sizzling of the onions and garlic with olive oil alarmed your stomach, recalling how you were upset today and skipped lunch.

“So I think I have some questions, and I—“ You stopped talking midsentence as you gasped upon seeing white fluffy ears rubbing against your feet.

“And that would be Snowy.” Harry dried his hands with a towel and walked over to you, cradling the bunny in his hands like a mother holding her newborn baby.

The bunny was mid-sized, his eyes so black you can see your reflection in them, his fur was as white as snow and his ears were fluttering. He hid his face in Harry’s arms like a shy baby.

You were practically melting at the little creature, pouting and asking Harry if you can hold him. In between moments, it finally clicked that Harry Styles the grumpy mechanic (and racer) has a bunny pet.

A model replica of the plushie you gave him, that sits inside Meena. It wasn’t a bad choice after all.

“Mhmm looks like he loves you.” He gently shifted him into your arms feeling his soft fur, as you and Harry’s fingers touched sparking electricity in you.

You tried not to think much about him towering you and standing arm to arm next to you, his presence was suffocating and you could barely focus on the cute bunny you’re holding, but he spared you all that and went back to the yummy sauce he’s preparing.

“I didn’t expect you to have a bunny! He’s so warm and fluffy.” You gently caressed his head as you sat down on Harry’s emerald green sofa, forgetting all about the questions you wanted to ask, or offering him help as he cooks.

He did seem capable of handling everything, you barely spent five minutes in the bathroom and he was quick to boil the pasta, chop onions with garlic and sauté them, lay all the ingredients in front of him. Though sadly, you caught only a quick snippet of him squeezing a lemon using his bare hand.

“Hmm, I suppose there are lots of things that you didn’t expect of me.” He added tomato sauce and pepper as you observed him intently while he worked under the yellow kitchen light.

“After tonight ? Absolutely.” Snowy shifted slowly in your arms joining his feet and hands together in an attempt to catch your attention.

Harry’s house was another thing that you didn’t see possible. His kitchen aesthetically joined with a spacious living room containing the most bizarre collections. A mosaic chandelier, vintage pale yellow sofa, the vinyl record player (which is not a fragment of your imagination), with a stand holding a huge amount of vinyl, posters on the walls for Elton John, Italian landscapes, and movie scenes.

The scenery itself was too pretty to describe, it was like stepping into a vintage shop and travelling back in time to every year you could possibly imagine, yet still having a sense of the present. His house is the teddy bears you get on Valentines, fresh lemonade on a hot summer day, candies that taste like childhood and the first sunshine after a thunderstorm.

Bunny’s ears kept fluttering as your hand caressed his white fur, he seemed to be enjoying it and you felt like kissing him aggressively from how fluffy he is.

“I’m almost done.” The spare human spoke diverting your attention from Snowy.

The smell of the pasta sauce was getting stronger with every whiff, he marinated the grilled chicken with it before dropping the pasta in the pan. You were a bit baffled as to why he didn’t play any songs, if you’re not mistaken it may be the first time you witness him do something without music.

“Do you know why he likes you this much?” Harry asked you as he came up with a million answers before your reply.

“Cause he’s friendly?” You guessed looking back at Snowy who’s hiding his face in your lap.

“Quite the contrary actually, he’s shy around strangers but he adores strawberries and you smell like them.” Harry joined you on the sofa with a strawberry in his hand, tickling Snowy’s feet.

He looked up from your lap, and excitedly thumped his foot at the sight of the strawberry. “Eat it Snow Bun.” Harry whispered to him as if he were a child and bunny didn’t hesitate to nibble on it immediately with his teeth.

“He’s so adorable.” You cooed in awe as the white fur around his mouth got stained with strawberry.

“Mhmm very adorable.” Harry agreed except that he was looking at you instead.

When he was done eating, you gently removed the stem from his mouth throwing it away before wiping his mouth with a tissue. Harry was done with the Pasta and filled up a plate for both of you, he picked up Snowy and placed him in a cozy pink round blanket placed near the TV stand.

“He loves his blankie so he’ll probably nap.” Harry handed you over your plate and you can’t deny how delicious it looks, he even topped it with Parmesan cheese and dried mint.

You and Harry began devouring the pasta (which turned out to be the best you ever had) but after a few minutes the silence was loud and you remembered your initial interest before Snowy distracted you.

“Can you explain more of what is going on? Please?” You placed your plate on the table feeling too antsy over today’s events.

Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked over to find Snowy snoring and sound asleep before he began talking.

“Concerning the race tonight, you were never meant to find out about it. It’s nothing but a side job but it can get dirty, which is why I didn’t want you there.” His words were serious and straightforward as he clasped his hands together and looked at you.

“It can sometimes include drugs, trading with stolen car parts, money laundering and other things and I am in no way affiliated with them. I’ll take care of your appearance but don’t do it again.” He insisted on his last sentence as you shivered recalling everyone’s eyes on you in the race.

“I’m so sorry please don’t shout at Niall, he must’ve thought that I knew about it. It was me who insisted on talking to you.” You felt disturbed at the thought of ruining their friendship, you made a mental note to apologize to Niall. He didn’t deserve it.

“I—I know.” That was all he could mutter as the scolding he had in mind for you evaporated when he saw your troubled and sorry face.

“You were probably just helping me concerning my job, I’m so stupid I even called it ‘my job’, I thought my boss was going to hire me , why would I even think that.” You dropped your head in your hands trying not to tear up at the idea of your wasted work.

“Don’t belittle yourself like that, I’m sure you’re amazing at what you do. His lack of morals has nothing to do with you.” He whispered softly, passing you a napkin when you’re not even crying. Maybe you’ll touch his fingers again he thought.

“I think I’ll head out now. Would you mind giving me a ride?”

“No I can’t.” He answered placing your empty dishes in the sink.

“Oh sorry, no pressure. I’ll walk using my GPS.” You replied as mentally slapped yourself for asking help from him.

“No cause you’re staying here. A thick or light duvet?” He scoffed at your idea of leaving at such an hour.

“Um thank you for that. Whatever is available and I’ll take the sofa.” Your bag was clutched around your waist and Harry dropped the fork dramatically. You’re more pleasant and gentle than he assumed.

“Nonsense, the bed is yours but if Snowy wakes you up, it’s on you not me.” His remark made you giggle as you looked back at the sleeping Bunny who’s already travelled to a different land filled with strawberries.

Harry got to work right away, preparing his room for you and changing the bedsheets, you had no idea that he was freaking out internally as he did not even understand his motive behind making everything perfect. On the other hand he had no clue that you wished he didn’t change the fresh bedsheets as it held his scent.

His room was a wonder, a king sized bed in the middle of the room, the glass window overlooking the wide field, and in the corner was another vinyl stand with a table holding a guitar and notebooks. He had a mini telescope placed near the window, and a large mirror plastered against the wall. It wouldn’t be his room if not for the hydrangea vase near his bedside table where a Franz Kafka book lays.

A huge white grandfather clock was on the other side of the room, not only did it amaze you having only seen wooden brown clocks, but you wondered about Harry’s infatuation with time.

You followed him into the spacious bathroom containing a bath tub and Jacuzzi , he almost bumped into you as he held items in his hand. “I don’t have visitors often so these will have to do and I found a spare toothbrush.” He handed you an oversized white shirt with ‘women are smarter’ printed on it along with shorts that can be tightened around the waist since you it’s double your size.

He was about to leave through the door before you interrupted. “I hope I don’t appear rude, but how did you get this house? It’s not like this in town or even big cities for that matter.” You pinched at your skin feeling anxious over your nosy question.

“I have an engineering degree, good night. Bunny wakes up early by the way.” He flashed you a cheeky grin before closing the door behind him as you stood trying to add one more information to the ones you received today.

After he left you helped yourself to a hot shower allowing his pine shower gel to linger all over your body, it felt so relaxing after the day you went through. It was nearing one in the morning and you brushed your teeth before laying in the lavender scented bedsheets. The window was open and you can smell the soil and Harry’s hydrangeas outside.

Maybe moving here was a good idea after all.

A soft and warm entity was pressed into your waist as your eyes fluttered open, you can hear the melody of birds outside and the sun casted a ray against your bare skin making you smile at the feeling. You looked beneath your duvet and found Snowy snuggled up to your side, his ears pointed down and hands joined together.

You gave him a soft pat on the head making him cuddle further into your skin, your strawberry smell was probably gone after the shower so you’re not sure why he likes you this much.

The feeling of the duvet against your skin with the sun caressing it and the light breeze sneaking in through the window made your heart flutter. You’ve never experienced such a perfect morning, the twittering of the birds was like a familiar melody that you can’t grasp.

Harry’s room was even prettier in the daylight, adorned with sunlight and shadows of the field outside. The notebooks on the table almost tempted you to peer at them but you immediately frowned at the thought, knowing that you wouldn’t want someone to look at your journal.

You decided to get up with a groan, leaving his warm bed and bunny as you headed to the bathroom, the clock marked six in the morning ,you used the toilet and brushed your teeth before changing back into your clothes and neatly folding Harry’s on the bed you made.

The living room was quiet and the sun struck the mosaic chandelier painting pretty patterns on the wall. Harry was sound asleep on the sofa with a hand tucked beneath his chin. You wanted to laugh because he looked exactly like Snowy when he was napping.

You preferred to leave quietly after everything that happened yesterday, and to avoid the awkward encounter between you and Harry when he wakes up. You kissed Snowy goodbye and gently found your way out of the house.

A walk in the sun ought to help you think about many things, but first of all you need to push away a certain pair of green eyes to the back of your mind.

You called your boss when you arrived home and asked for a meeting with him and after going back and forth, he agreed to see you at eleven o’clock , you were now seated in front of him in his office watching him eat a donut as you felt your stomach turn at the thought of confronting him.

“So how can I help?”

“Actually I wanted to talk about my employment, I—“

“Listen why don’t we leave it till the day comes in like 6 days?” He straightened his posture in the seat and looked back at you.

“No we can’t leave it , are you going to hire me?” You insisted as anxiety rose in your body with every second.

“I’m sure we can discuss this in—“

“Or will you tell me to leave after my hard work like every volunteer before me?!” Your voice rose as both of you turned red in the face. You at your boldness and him at being exposed.

“I’m not sure who told you that, people love to spread rumors.” He loosened his tie and you can feel the change in his breathing.

“Oh so you already have an answer prepared. Why would you assume that someone told me?” You cornered him with your reply and he was no longer looking at you in the eye.

“No you’re talented we just have a tight budget, I can hire you and start from 200$ a month” He rambled quickly and anxiously and was gulping continuously.

“No. I quit or should I say I no longer wish to be a volunteer?” You stood up from your chair grabbing your bag to leave before he stopped you.

“You can’t do that. You still have a week of employment.” He sneered thinking that he can trap you into working for him.

You silently fetched a paper from your bag observing his face go red when he saw that it’s the contract.

“Volunteers are not obliged to deliver a full service to our institution. Any volunteer that feels in need of ending their commitment shall do so without the need for any contract, approval or written acceptance. However the institution is in duty of providing a volunteering certificate.” You finished speaking and folded the contract back into your bag, taking in his flushed and embarrassed face.

“I expect to receive my certificate in an email soon.” You muttered your last sentence before leaving not allowing another word from him.

It wasn’t until your walk home that you smiled like an idiot, feeling like you won a battle. For the first time you spoke your mind without even thinking and defended yourself against a snarky man who was exploiting you.

Your cheeks were hurting from how much you smiled, it might be nothing but for you it was a tiny victory.

Back in your apartment, you celebrated with continuing Pride & Prejudice and pondered about making a Turkey sandwich when your phone chimed several times.

‘Where are you?’

‘Why aren’t you at the garage?’

‘I can’t find my crawler’

‘Hellloooooo’

‘Where did you put my top secret car oil!’

You received these messages from Harry whom you thought was mad at you for yesterday. You didn’t expect him to question your whereabouts and besides top secret oil?

‘I’m not fired?’. You texted back.

‘You have fifteen minutes to be here.’ He replied immediately.

You sent him a saluting emoji, scurried to dress up and placed the book in your bag.

But first, Turkey Sandwich.

Part 4

A/n: Hope you loved this chapter! Please leave a feedback through an ask or comment xoxo.

Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @theroosterswife24 @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @miasdelicatepov @jessitpwk @tiaamberxx @peacheskiwi @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @namelesssav @20031990s @prettythingsworld @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @swiftmendeshoran @sagcas-latte @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @blepskies @that-daydream-look @hslt-2809 @ivegotparticulartaste @itslottiehere @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @epidxte @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @scottisantman @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut. If your tag is green then it didn’t work :(

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jpitha · 7 months

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Wild Sky

“How long will it feel like?”

“Less than a second. Your time in the pod will feel so short that you’ll think something is broken.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay then, Sign me up.” Ellen didn’t particularly want to take a stasis pod instead of a hibernation cabinet, but the last time she went into hibernation, she had… complications upon awakening. She was severely injured from an error on warming, and lost her right arm, right lung and half of her liver. The organs were regrown, and the limb replaced, but her doctor warned her to not hibernate anymore. Ellen figured that was that, and she was stuck on this planet.

Until she read the news on her pad a few years later.

“Volunteers needed for sapient level trials of a new technology! Free interstellar travel!”

Intrigued, Ellen checked it out. She would try nearly anything to get off this planet. Especially since Trish left her.

It had turned out that scientists at the university had developed a ‘stasis’ system. It created a field where time did not pass. Even better, power is only needed to create and break the field. Once set, the stasis field is stable. You could cook a holiday meal for one hundred people, put it in stasis, and take a serving from it until it was gone, safe in the knowledge that even if it took you weeks, each plate would taste as good and the first. From the perception of the meal, all the servings were taken at once.

Figuring it was her only way off this rock, Ellen signed up for the trial. She was subjected to weeks of examinations by all kinds of doctors. She was the first candidate with regrown organs and artificial limbs as well, so the scientists were extra excited about putting her in stasis.

After about half a year, she was approved for the program. The first trip was going to be just for a day, in the offices of the university. Should that one go without a problem she and the other candidates would be placed aboard a ship and sent wherever they wanted It would be one ship with dozens of pods. It didn’t matter how many months they traveled to all the destinations of the passengers, no time would pass for them.

As Ellen settled into the stasis pod, she chuckled to herself. For something that she was going to only spend a few seconds inside, it was very comfortable. Cozy even. She settled into the seat and clipped a short cord from the pod to the sensor suite on her wrist. As she did, her name and vitals appeared in the clear window on the pod.

“We have good telemetry Ellen, we’re going to set the field, all right?” The doctor peered over the lip of the pod. It was a good deal larger than a regular hibernation cabinet, and the doctor was standing on a little stool.

“How long will I be out?” Now that she was in the pod, she yawned.

“Like I said, just a day Ellen. We’ll see you Wednesday morning. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, I was hoping I could get a nap, it’s so comfy in here”

The doctor chuckled. “It’s like that on purpose. The pods are designed to help put people at ease. That, combined with the mild sedative we gave you should make this no more scary than lying down in bed.”

Ellen blinked. A sedative? “No wonder I’m so tired. I’m high as hell!”

The doctor held up a hand. “Just a bit, and it’s fast acting. It’ll wear off by lunchtime, your time. All part of the waiver you signed.”

Mentally, Ellen shrugged. She did feel fine. Almost floaty. “All right Doc, whenever you’re ready.”

He looked down at his pad and made some notations. “Okay Ellen, we’re going to close the lid now.”

With a light hum, the lid game down. Ellen felt her ears pop as the pressure changed.

“Everything is green Ellen. As soon as the capacitors charge, we’re going to set the field. See you tomorrow!” The doctor’s voice sounded tinny over the connection.

“All right Doc, see you tomorrow!”

“Field set in three… Two…”

There was a flash of silver, and it was dark in the pod. Ellen looked at the lights glowing inside. The window on the top was mirrored and she just saw a reflection of herself. Woman, late thirties, hair closely cropped to hide the grey and for ease of care; she never felt really ‘girly’ and didn’t keep her hair long or wear much makeup. She had just recently broken up with her long term girlfriend and thought this would be a source of an interesting story for future dates if nothing else.

Funny, the doctor had said that her perception of time would be so short that she would wonder if it had worked at all. She was still lying here wondering what was going on. Maybe the doctor had misrepresented how long it would feel like for her to put anyone with claustrophobia at ease.

They checked her for that though. The psych said she had none.

She wondered how long it had been. Surely, this was the right amount of time?

How long had it been?

She counted heartbeats. She knew her heart rate was around 70 beats per minute, so she could get a rough idea how long she was in the pod from counting heartbeats. In the silence of the pod, her heart was loud in her ears. She even thought she could hear her blood flow.

After about ten minutes of counting by her reckoning she was bored and looked around more.

How much longer could it be?

Surely they’ll be here now?

All of the indicators on the side of the pod were dark. The telemetry information must reside outside of the stasis field. She was alone with her thoughts.

Isn’t it done yet?

There was a hum, rising in her ears and becoming louder and louder. Rising to a deafening crescendo it ended with a click like a relay. The top of her pod turned clear.

An unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe they moved the pod in between yesterday and today. It was beige with diffused lighting which didn’t seem to come from anywhere. Even though the field had disappeared, the lid still didn’t open.

A moment later, the lid opened with a pop of pressure and Ellen’s ears popped again. Unfamiliar smells flooded the pod. None were unpleasant as such, but she didn’t recognize any of them. Like, a new apartment or a friend’s house, it smelled unfamiliar.

Ellen sat up. “Wow, that felt way longer than just a moment Doc, for the next group of people you should… tell… them…”

Ellen looked around and her eyes focused.

The doctor wasn’t there.

Three… beings dressed in long, emerald green robes stared back at her. They weren’t human.

They weren’t human! What the hell was going on?

“What’s going on? Who are you?”

The middle being stepped forward. They spoke. Ellen didn’t understand the language, it had a warbling, vibrating quality, almost like you would have to feel it as much as hear it. At their… waist was a box. It spoke in hundreds of languages, almost all at once. While it spoke a blue light shone on her face. With a warbling noise as it hunted and searched, it finally said something she understood. It said “There… has been… a sit-u-a-tion.”

Wild eyed, Ellen looked up at the head of the one who had the box that spoke. They had large, compound eyes, like a fly and their faces were an iridescent green.

There must be some mistake. A trick, a prank. Panicking, Ellen jumped out of the pod and searched the room. She was nowhere near the laboratory at the university. She had no idea where she was. The room was the same uniform color of the ceiling with the invisible diffused light. Other than the three beings and her pod, the room was empty. There. A door behind them. She ran out the door, down a hall. She was beyond thought now, she just needed to get out.

Things will make sense when she’s somewhere else.

She ran toward a door that looked like an exit and was outside.

She looked up and gasped. She was so surprised that she lost her footing and fell down. Rolling on her back she looked up and saw the sky.

A wild sky. Turquoise with clouds in cotton candy pink. Looking further she could see a… structure in the sky. A large latticework, trailing off into the distance, made hazy by the atmosphere. The structure must be very high in the sky, and very very large.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, staring up at the strange sky. Eventually the being from the room with the box came up to her. He bent low - at least they have knees. Ellen actually stopped her panic to have that thought and the idea that at least they have knees brought her a small measure of comfort.

“We… are… sorry….” The box was getting better at translating. She wondered if she was able to help it when she shouted at them.

“How long has it been?” Her eyes flicked away from the sky to the compound eyes of the being.

“We do not… know…” They made a gesture with their hands. 4 fingers. “A long… time.”

Ellen wept. What else could she do

#writing #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are deathworlders #humans and aliens #jpitha #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 11 months

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It’s gone midnight and I’m thinking about Six of Crows so y’all know what that means: it’s time for a long rambling thought process that will hopefully have some interesting insights into the books in it.

I want to talk about the animal, mostly bird, symbolism of these books because although it’s obviously something we’re very aware of I also think it’s something that runs a lot deeper than we necessarily always realise/talk about. Even when people aren’t being directly involved in bird metaphors (crows, pigeons, peacocks) they are often described as “squawking”, “flapping”, or with other phrases that further this semantic field.

Now the crows is obviously the main source of the symbolism, and it’s openly talked about in the book with the speech on how the recognise human faces and how they support each other. I’ve also seen a few people online talking about the Crows in conjunction with a poem/nursery rhyme about crows (it’s one of those that has many different versions spun of it, some know it was counting magpies rather than crows) wherein 6 crows symbolises gold, of course greatly linked to the plot of the novels as well as their anti-extreme capitalism message. It’s also key to mention that crows are massively underestimated birds in the general public view; they’re far ‘smarter’ animals than we would typically expect. Crows have a very high brain to body mass ratio, I believe the highest of any birds but don’t quote me on that, and although we understand very little about the brain the size ratio is currently considered a very good indicator for the general intelligence level of the animal. Crows can make tools, hide their food, mate for life, and - VERY interestingly for this book analysis - have even been suspected to hold funerals. Now I want to be clear I’m working on a mix of random knowledge and the first helpful looking website that came up when I googled ‘fun facts about crows’ so I am by no means an expert here, but to my understanding the practice that was initially considered to be a ‘crow funeral’ is actually a process wherein crows will gather around a dead crow to look for potential danger. So I feel like the links I’m establishing here are relatively obvious, the point is that, like the birds themselves, the Crows are undervalued, underestimated, and unexpectedly successful. But the symbol of the crow in these books arguably goes even further.

The crow-headed handle of Kaz’s cane represents everything about the crow I’ve already mentioned on top of his own symbolic layering to the cane as a sign that no part of him has not been broken, and no part him is not better for having been broken. So in Chapter 27 of Crooked Kingdom, when Kaz returns to the Slat and fights the Dregs before leading a coup against Per Haskell, the cane with the fake crow’s head that Haskell has contrived to mock him effectively represents the failing of everything the Dregs represent. They’re last, the remnants, the people with nowhere else to go: they are the people who have been broken and have made something new for themselves. Except Haskell. So the sheer ridiculousness of him mocking Kaz’s cane, something he clearly thought would win him favour and success, in the end becomes one of the biggest aspects of his downfall. Inej describes the moment when the Dregs begin to support Kaz, the way the look at Per Haskell with discomfort - “the feathers in his hat, the canes in his hands” (and then she goes on to highlight how they’ve seen Kaz use his cane in fights, “wielded with such precision”, whereas Haskell is washed-up, pathetic, never could have taken the fight Kaz did and walked out the other side). Of course they realise, then, how completely and utterly wrong all of this was. Because when they’re confronted with both of those canes they realise something. They know what Kaz’s cane represents; it’s power and strength in spite of a world that has that has scorned him, it’s taking something that was broken and not fixing it but emphasising it and making it into a threat, into a symbol, into a strength. They know that, even though they don’t know what happens in Kaz’s head, because they see themselves in that. The Dregs; the literal bottom of the Barrel, who have been broken and who have clawed their way to survival. They cannot see themselves in Haskell’s mockery cane. Haskell is not a man who reflects what the Dregs are at their core, but Kaz is. The emphasis on the feathers is also really interesting, because I think it’s implying a sort of gaudy, colourful feathering that (despite fitting in with the style of the Barrel) does not represent the symbol of the crow; it is not something shadowed, something half hidden that could have an unexpected bite. It’s almost more akin to Heleen’s gaudy peacock feathers than it is to anything the Dregs understand, or represent through being Crows.

The pigeons I don’t really see anyone talking about, but I think it’s pretty interesting. The idea of ‘the pigeon’ is the same as ‘the mark’; they’re the victim, the fool who’s easy to swindle. I think the imagery of the fools being pigeons, ie being everywhere and massively populating big cities, is really clever to show a divide between the few, the Crows, and the many, the pigeons. However, it’s not only the Crows who remark on others being ‘pigeons’, but other gangs as well. When Kaz confronts Pekka about the scam he ran on him and Jordie, he says “you were just two pigeons, and I happened to be the one who plucked you”. I’m not gonna lie to you guys I’m losing my point slightly, but I just googled ‘crows and pigeons’ and the first thing that came up was about how crows sometimes eat pigeons so I reckon that’s pretty relevant.

Ok I’m really tired and I feel like I’m clutching at straws here, so I dunno I guess if this does well then I’ll cover peacocks, lions, and the general semantic field of birds in another post. I hope at least some of this made sense, thanks for reading it if you bothered to get this far

#grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #nina zenik #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #kanej #wesper #helnik #crows #soc #fantasy analysis #fantasy books #book analysis

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gwynsazriel · 6 months

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i just wanted to share some gwyn moments that really made me love her as a character and how she ultimately become one of my favorite characters in acotar 💟

Gwyn marked the change. “I don’t need your pity.” The words were sharp, as clear as her teal eyes.

“It wasn’t pity.”

“I’ve been here for nearly two years, but I haven’t become so disconnected from others that I can’t tell when someone remembers why I am here and alters their behavior.” Gwyn’s mouth flattened to a line. “I don’t need to be coddled. Only spoken to like a person.”

(sometimes i feel like people forget gwyn is such a badass and doesn’t take shit from anyone)

——

“A few priestesses drifted by, either directly past her or on one of the levels above or below, utterly silent. This whole place was utterly silent. The only bit of color and sound came from Gwyn.”

——

“Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s—by turns trained and wild, as if there was so much sound fighting to break free of Gwyn that she couldn’t quite contain it all. As if the sound needed to be loose in the world.”

——

“Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.”

——

“Gwyn to push her group harder. She wanted to be the first. Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel’s and Cassian’s faces. Especially Azriel’s.”

(i love how competitive she is 😭❤️)

——

“It moved him beyond words, that Gwyn had braved the world beyond the library to comfort Nesta.”

“She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. “I’ll face it with you,” Gwyn whispered, over and over again. “Promise me we’ll face it together.”

——

“Why did you sign up for this, then?” Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. “If you already have mind-calming exercises you’re accustomed to?”

“Because I don’t ever want to feel powerless again,” Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.”

——

“Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”

“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.”

——

“Emerie was the one to say to Gwyn, “I can’t believe you left the library.”

Gwyn stroked Nesta’s head. “Some things are more important than fear.”

🤍🤍🤍

#gwyneth berdara #acosf #gwynriel #a court of silver flames #gwyn berdara #valkyries

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hotgirlgraps · 7 months

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Barely Breathing | Three

The aftermath of Tyler cheating

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: third and final part to this series with @madhatterbri. y/n gets her revenge but probably not how you would expect

Tyler basically moved back in at his parent’s house after the breakup. He still had his penthouse but he didn’t want to be alone in it.

All of the reminders of you would haunt him if he went back. The dresser drawers that were cleared out of all of your stuff you took when you left and the photos of the two of you decorating the living room was something he just didn’t think he could handle right now.

He sent you text message after text message begging for a chance to explain everything but he assumed you must have blocked his number when days went by without a single reply.

It wasn’t until one night as he was sitting outside with his dad puffing on a cigar and having a glass of whiskey that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he had to take a double look at the screen when he saw your name floating on it.

“Y/n wants to talk tonight.” He says, looking over at Taz with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I told you to give her some time to blow off steam. Still don’t agree with what you did, but I’m glad she’s giving you a shot to explain your stupid actions.”

Taz had been hard on him about the whole ordeal. He had no idea that Tyler cheated on you until he confessed it the night he showed up drunk at his door.

He didn’t scold him that night, because it was obvious that Tyler wasn’t in his right mind, but the next day and every time you came up in conversation, he made it a point to tell him that he made a big mistake.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he puffs on the cigar, exhaling some smoke above his head. “I’m gonna regret that for the rest of my life, honestly. I’m just glad she’s even talking to me again.”

“You should.” Taz adds, sipping on his glass. “Know what else you should do?”

“What?”

“Take your ass home and put on some new clothes. Shower, shave, fix yourself up. You’ve been moping around in the same clothes for days and I haven’t seen your hair wet since you got here, so I’m pretty sure you ain’t had a shower either.”

“I took one yesterday.” Tyler attested. “But yeah, I need to change. Guess i’m gonna go.”

He put the cigar out and finished the last bit of whiskey in his glass before he got up from the chair. Just before he was about to leave, his dad stopped him.

“Son, listen to me. If she gives you another shot, you better not blow it this time. You got a good girl who loves you and treats you good. Start acting like it.”

What Tyler didn’t know, was that good girl that left his house that night was nothing close to the girl who was stepping back in.

You had been completely broken down by what he did. It haunted you every single night. You went through all stages of mourning it felt like, but landed firmly on one that felt way better than sitting around crying over him.

You were angry. The more you thought about it, the more rage made home inside of you. The years you spent together and all the things you went through being completely disregarded for some girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of made you despise him even more than anything else anymore.

You just wanted him to feel the same pain you had to suffer through, and no matter how many texts he sends saying that he misses you and he’s just so damn sorry, you knew he wasn’t the level of sorry that he should be.

Tyler took his time getting ready. He had butterflies in his stomach for the first time in a long time. He kept glancing at the clock but time was going by so slow, he was just anticipating when you’d be knocking at that door.

He picked up a bouquet of roses on the way back. He didn’t know if you’d accept them but he felt like it was the very least he could do to thank you for giving him a chance to talk to you.

He was nervously messing with his hair when he heard the faint knocks at the door, and had to take a deep breath before he opened it.

Seeing you again was something that made his heart feel like it was getting squeezed by stone hands in his chest. You looked good. You didn’t look like you were going through a breakup by any means. He wondered if you had to take your time getting ready to hide what you really had been feeling like or if you were really just fine like you seem.

“Hey” he breathes out as he opens the door. You send him a barely there smile and step in. You spot the roses on the kitchen island and roll your eyes before he sees it.

“Those for me?” You asked, feigning a smile.

“Yeah, they are.” He walks over to the bouquet and passes them to you, thankful and relieved when you take them from his hand.

“My way of saying thank you for giving me a chance to explain things.” He says.

You set the bouquet down and shake your head.

“I’m not here to talk about what happened.” You tell him.

“You’re not?” I thought you-“

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips and instantly felt his hands on your hips, pulling you into him as close as you could possibly get.

When the initial shock wore off, he kissed you back with a newfound intention that suddenly hit him.

You stepped out of your shoes and made quick work of getting his shirt off, only breaking the kiss to pull it off before you locked your lips with his again.

It was painful to think about another woman kissing him like this, but you had to force those thoughts away before you ruined everything for yourself.

Running your nails down his abs made you wonder if her nails traced the same path. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair didn’t feel as soft between your fingers when you knew another set of hands had been in them too.

It solidified everything for you. You knew you’d never be able to forgive and sure as hell not forget.

Tyler’s lips trailed from your jaw to your neck as he unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your arms. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes filled with pure, undeniable admiration but yours were just dull, the life completely sucked out of them.

He was so caught up in the moment that he wouldn’t have been able to tell that you were just a shell of who you used to be standing before him.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms underneath you, swiftly picking you up and carrying you into the bedroom. Feeling the bed beneath your bare back as he gently laid you down was a strange feeling. You never expected to be in that bed again after that night.

He peppered some kisses to your collarbone as he slid your pants down, along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable underneath him.

“You are so gorgeous.” He whispered in pure awe. It had only been a couple days but he thought he’d never get to see you like this again.

You grabbed his arms and pulled him down to you, his eyes adverting from your body to your eyes in an instant. You could practically read his mind. Every thought he was having and every feeling rushing through him.

You hated that you still loved him, because you could see full well that he was probably falling even harder in love with you in that moment, and maybe if you didn’t love him, it wouldn’t hurt you.

It was just another thing to force out of your mind as you grabbed his length in your hand and guided it to your entrance. He swallowed harshly before he pulled back some.

“Wait” He says, sliding his tongue over his lips. “Are you sure you want to do this like this? I don’t want you still be mad at me after we’re done. I would rather talk about everything first and then, if you want to, we can do this.”

“I’m not mad anymore, just fuck me please.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more when you pulled him down by his chain, locking your lips with his again. He melted into you at that moment, his fingers sifting gently through your hair as his lips moved with yours in perfect harmony.

You felt him push into you and let a soft moan slip out, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him in deeper.

His hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers together, softly holding it above your head as he slowly thrusted into you.

It was too soft and sweet for you, though. The way he was peppering kisses to each inch of your face and the slow, languid movements. That’s not what you needed, so you reversed the roles and ended up on top of him, pinning his hands above his head as you took full control.

His lips lingered over your neck, he wanted to catch your kiss but you didn’t let him.

He was taken back but pleased with the sudden dominance, he didn’t object to it. His eyes stayed trained on you as he watched you take every inch of him, doing your best not to collapse down on top of him when he started arching his hips high off the bed.

You screwed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to watch him. It was a harder task than you expected it to be. Hearing the sounds of his low groans and heavy sighs, the occasional whisper of your name leaving his lips, it was pulling at your heart strings and that was the last thing you needed.

You made the mistake of letting go of one of his hands, and he immediately brought it to the back of your neck to bring you down to his lips. You tasted whiskey and fresh mint on your tongue, the kiss so filled with passion and desire that it made your head spin.

You broke away and straightened up on top of him, letting his other hand go and you allowed it to grab your hip, guiding you.

His lips parted and you felt him twitch inside of you, already knowing what was coming so you picked up the pace to get him there faster. You didn’t care enough about yourself.

He surprised you when he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and placing soft, sloppy kisses to your neck as he thrusted up into you.

“I love you so much, yn” He whispers against your skin. Words that didn’t mean anything anymore.

His hips stuttered and you quickly got off of him, not trying to risk anything under the circumstances. He must have expected you to catch his release but you didn’t, and instead let it drench the bedsheets while you slid off the bed and found your clothes scattered on the floor.

He watched you for a moment before he got up and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, you were fully dressed and fixing your hair in the mirror.

“You’re not staying the night?” He asks with a small voice. You caught his expression in the reflection before you turned around to face him.

“Why would I do that?” You asked.

“I mean, I would love it if you did.” He says, starting to walk towards you, but you step closer to the door.

“No, Tyler. I’m not staying the night with you. I’m never coming back here again, either.”

“What?”

“I hope you enjoyed your last time ever fucking me. Hope that girl was worth it.” You forge a taunting smirk before you walked out the bedroom.

He was hot on your heels but you didn’t turn around until you reached the front door.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” He asks, his eyes filled with pain and despair, just how you wanted to leave him.

“Did you seriously expect anything else? You cheated on me, babe. You deserve everything you’re getting.” You shrug before you open the door and step out, making the man you once planned to marry just a boy from your past.

#hook aew #aew hook #aew hook x reader #tyler senerchia #aew hook angst

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 5 months

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Bruce Wayne x Reader

Title: “Secrets will be told” SERIES PART 6 FINAL PART

Need a Refresher? Here are the previous parts!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne (from the show Gotham) and Female reader. BOTH BRUCE AND READER WILL BE 26-28 in this part.

Warnings: None; I did not proofread; I quickly skimmed through

Summary of series: Bruce Wayne was captivated when he met Y/N, and the feeling was mutual. Dating turned into being engaged and engaged to married. They knew each other’s secrets and told each other everything; they confided in one another. But once Y/N follows Bruce back to Gotham, he begins to change... He becomes secretive, is he having an affair? Y/N needs to find out the truth.

The sound of beeping made me open my eyes. I frantically looked around, and tubes were in my nose, and the heart rate monitor was beeping quickly. “Y/N, sweetie, please calm down..” My mom’s hands held mine, and I turned to look at her.

I could feel a burning sensation in my hand, and I held my hand in front of my face. The palm of my hand was wrapped in a bandage, and the doctor walked in. “It’s about time you woke up, Mrs. Wayne. You’ve been asleep for three days now; we were starting to get worried.” he said, as he looked down at his clipboard.

“Do you remember anything that happened?” he asked and I leaned back into the pillows behind me. “I-I was kidnapped... By Jeremiah Valeska, and I was saved by..by...” I started to remember last night.

“Stay standing. Don’t pass out. Just focus on me.” he said, and I shook my head. “Please, just tell Bruce I love him. Tell him, I’m not mad. Don’t let him blame himself for.. for.. th-this.”

My lungs were burning, and it felt like they could no longer hold any air. My legs began to shake, and before my eyes closed, I heard the batman say: “I love you too...”

“It’s okay, we don’t need to go over everything right now. But I am advising you go to therapy when we get you home. What you went through was traumatic, and I think it would be a great help..” he said, and then he cleared his throat. “But let’s discuss what is currently wrong. Your oxygen levels were extremely low from breathing in all of the chemicals. Your hand-” he lifted up my hand and unwrapped it.

My hand was red and blistered, “You will have a permanent scar on you right hand.” I lifted my hand up and the chemical burn was in the shape of a “J”. Of course, that bastard had to leave his mark.

The doctor grabbed my hand and wrapped it with a clean bandage. “But there are some corrective surgeries that can fix it. I can get something scheduled if you would like.” he said, and I shook my head.

“Where’s my husband? Where’s Bruce?” I asked, and my mom stood up. “He went home to take a shower. He will be back soon.” Her thumb massaged the top of my hand, and I sighed.

“Why did you go to Metropolis?” my mother asked.

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry.” I said, as she pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m just so happy that you are going to be okay.” she whispered.

The doctor picked up his clipboard, “Alright Mrs. Wayne. Your hand is all good to go. Now, I must advise you to get some rest. And if everything is good by tonight, I will consider letting you go home early.” he said before walking out of the door.

My mother and I sat there talking about her and my father’s recent trip, until she had to go home to clean up broken glass. I sat there staring at the bandage wrapped around my right hand. I began to unwrap the bandage and hissed at the stinging pain that shot through my entire arm.

I stared at the raw, blistered skin. Of course, he left his mark on me. I started to cry at the site of it; I felt disgusting. I could still feel his lingering touch on my bottom lip, and the way he stared at me. I was supposed to be dead. Never has anyone wanted me dead, and I hoped that they put Jeremiah away. Because now, this felt like a game that was not going to end in my favor.

A knock on my hospital room door tore my gaze away from my hand. Bruce stood there with a bouquet of roses. I wiped the tears from my face, and he quickly made his way over to me. “Y/N, I am so sorry about what happened. I wanted to be here when you woke up, but your mom made me go home and clean up.” he said.

He watched where my gaze went, and he looked down at my hand. “Let me wrap that up so it doesn’t get infected.” he said as he grabbed the bandages that were on the bedside table. I stared at him as he bandaged my hand, and he finally looked up at me. “We need to talk when we get home.” he said quietly, and I nodded.

“About the divorce?” I asked, and he looked down at his hands. “If that is what you want, then yes. But I would really like for you to reconsider those divorce papers.” He spoke.

“Why would I do that?” I asked, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“We will talk about this when we get you home.” he said, and he stood up from his chair. “Right now, I’m going to let you rest.”

An hour after Bruce had left, I had fallen asleep.

“I want to be able to control your pain and how fast you die.” Jeremiah hissed as he dragged a knife that had the residue from the chemical down my arm.

“Stop! Please, stop!” I cried out, and all he could do was laugh in my face.

Slowly, he dragged the knife down my cheek, “I hate having to scar your pretty little face. Maybe if Bruce doesn’t want you after this, I will give you a chance. After all, you will look just...like....me.”

I felt a hand shake my shoulder and all I could do was scream “No! Please, get off of me!” Bruce’s hand pulled back from me.

“Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just me.” he said, and I jumped into his arms. “Please don’t let him get me, Bruce.” I cried out, and his hand cupped the back of my head. He pulled me closer to him, “He’s not coming back, Y/N. It’s over. Jeremiah is dead.”

I pulled away from Bruce’s chest, “He-He’s dead? Are you sure?” I asked and Bruce nodded. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

When we had gotten back to Wayne Manor, Alfred was smiling. “It is so good to have you back, Mrs. Wayne. Want me to fix you something to eat or drink?” he asked, and I shook my head.

Bruce gave Alfred a small smile, “I think we need some time to talk, if you don’t mind Alfred.”

Alfred handed Bruce something, but I didn’t see what it was. Bruce picked up my uninjured hand and led me to his study. “I know I said I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier if I just show you.”

I watched him walk over to his desk and grab a remote, and he clicked a button, and a loud sound made the room tremble. I took a step back as the fireplace retracted into the wall, revealing a dark hallway with stairs. Bruce picked up my left hand and led me down the dark staircase. “Um.. This isn’t the part where you are actually going to murder me, right?” I asked and Bruce smiled.

“You watch way too much crime shows, Y/N.” he continued to lead me down the never-ending staircase, but a bright LED light was shining at the end of the hallway. He turned to face me, “Before we go any further, please let me explain and answer your questions. And if you still want a divorce after seeing all of this, I understand.”

I followed him into the blinding light, and after my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I gasped. A group of computers almost took up one entire wall, and a big black military looking car was on the opposite side. But Bruce led me to a glass case, and once we got close enough, I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was the Batman suit. Bruce opened the case, and I pressed my left hand up against the chest of the suit. Memories of being carried out of Ace Chemicals replayed in my mind.

When he spoke that night, his last words to me were “I love you too.” Those words were not spoken in the Batman’s voice, but in Bruce’s voice. The scars on Bruce’s back, the late nights of him not being home, and this is the reason why he bulked up. Bruce Wayne, my husband, is the Batman.

I turned to Bruce with tears in my eyes, “It was you. You are the Batman?”

Bruce nodded his head as tears ran down his cheeks. “I had to retaliate, Y/N. When I heard Jeremiah escaped Gotham, I couldn’t be a sitting duck anymore. It wasn’t just me anymore, I had to protect you.” he said.

“And that woman in your office? Who is she?” I questioned and Bruce sighed. “That woman was Selina Kyle. She was warning me about Jeremiah. She heard that he was coming for me, but she didn’t know when. But instead, he went for you.” he explained.

“We have been friends for a very long time, Y/N. Nothing is or ever will go on between her and myself. She is the reason Jeremiah will never come for us again.” he whispered, and I lunged into Bruce’s arms.

“I was so scared that I was going to die, Bruce.” I cried into his chest. “But the last thing I thought of before I passed out, was you. And when I looked into the Batman’s eyes, I should have known they were yours.”

Bruce’s arms tightened around me, “I can’t lie to you, Y/N, but things are not going to be easy. Now that you know I am Batman, this is going to make you a target.” he said as he pulled away from me and held my face in his hands. “I can’t give up being Batman now. Gotham needs me more than ever, and if you want to leave me, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Because I will never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. A part of me knows I should have left you in the dark, and I should have signed those divorce papers.” he said as a tear slipped from his eye. “But another part of me, the selfish part of me, doesn’t want to lose you. I love you, Y/N. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. However, I will respect the decision that you make.” Bruce said as he pressed his forehead against mine.

I took in a deep breath, “I don’t want a divorce, Bruce. I really don’t. But please, don’t keep any secrets from me.” I said quietly, and Bruce picked me up off of the ground. “No more secrets.” he said before pressing a kiss to my lips.

“Mrs. Wayne, you are going to need these.” he said as he pulled my engagement ring and wedding band out of his pocket. Bruce slipped them onto my ring finger.

A few weeks later, I was able to remove the bandage from my hand. This was the first time in weeks I had seen my bare hand. As I removed the bandage, I saw the dark red ‘J’ scar that would be a permanent mark.

Bruce came into the bathroom and leaned against the door frame, “Are you alright?” he asked, and I closed my hand. “Yeah. I’m just trying to get used to this ugly scar.” I say and he wrapped his arms around me.

“It won’t always be red. It should somewhat fade.” he said as opened my hand. He looked at the scar and sighed. “If I could have been there sooner.” he whispered, and I cupped his cheek. “Don’t go down that route, Bruce. I am just thankful you showed up when you did. Otherwise, things could have gotten worse.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and I took in his scent. “Can I ask you something?” I asked, and Bruce nodded. “Will you train me, Bruce?” I asked and he pulled away from me.

“Train you? For what?”

“I don’t want to be that girl that was locked in a glass room, about to be murdered, Bruce. I don’t want to be the girl that is left with a scar as a reminder that I cannot protect myself.” I said and he tore his gaze away from me. “Please, Bruce?”

He stood there staring at the wall, and finally he answered. “Okay. You’re right. You need to be able to protect yourself. I will train you, but it’s not going to be easy.”

That night, when we left “the batcave” after he told me was Batman, our lives had changed forever. I had to share the love of my life with everyone else in Gotham; they got the Dark Knight, and I got Bruce Wayne. The person I fell in love with at Princeton.

He trained me just like he promised he would. Hell, I was so good at fighting that I was now known as the “Black Widow”. I fought right alongside my husband, helping keep the streets of Gotham safe.

Then we adopted our first son, then our second, and then our third. Then Bruce found out he had a love child from before we met in college. And then we had a set of twins of our own. As a family, we had a pact, and that was never keep a secret. Because Secrets will always be told.

----

I know, cheesy ending. But I hope you guys enjoyed this little mini-series. I had fun writing it, and at times it was challenging, but definitely worth it. Thank you to the readers who stuck it out until the very end of this series!

(Also, I couldn’t figure out a superhero name. So I went with Black Widow, I mean, I always can picture Bruce with a Black Widow!Reader. I do not own the rights to Batman/Bruce Wayne, or the characters mentioned. I only own the story line. Nor do I own the rights to the hero name Black Widow).

XOXO

TAGLIST: @rl800 @auspicious-lilana @theclassicvinyldragon

@moon-shampoo

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x reader #bruce x y/n #bruce wayne x batmom #gotham fox #Gotham TV #Gotham #Selina Kyle

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candycandy00 · 2 months

Text

Human Part 2 - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

This is a sequel to my fanfic, Human. Please be advised that these are dark fics.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Cursed Spirit Reader. Extremely dubious consent teetering on the edge on non-con. Oral sex. Gojo being sadistic but also feeling guilty.

Divider by @benkeibear!

Gojo spent the next week in turmoil. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done to the frightened little cursed spirit in Shibuya. In all his years fighting curses, he’d never once felt a single shred of guilt for hurting them. They were monsters who attacked humans. They deserved whatever torment they received. And if they were the intelligent type who could speak and understand enough to fear him? Even better.

At some point in his youth, he realized he enjoyed terrorizing them. He wasn’t a cruel person by nature. He never enjoyed the suffering of other human beings. But cursed spirits were not human. In his mind, he likened it to a child burning ants with a magnifying glass. And so he never stopped to reflect on how brutally he treated curses. Until now.

The weak little cat cursed spirit had looked disturbingly human, like a cute twenty year old girl in a cat ears headband. And it was that resemblance to a human that made Gojo feel so sick. The thought of doing… what he did to her to a human woman was repulsive to him on a primal level. And yet, her body had felt just like a human’s, reacted just like a human’s. The memory of watching her cum, hearing her sweet moans and cries, was so vivid in his mind, he was sure he would never forget it.

The arousal Gojo felt from tormenting cursed spirits had mixed with that of feeling her soft, trembling body beneath him, and it had overtaken him. He’d wanted to destroy her and fuck her at the same time, so that’s what he’d tried to do.

In the end, after releasing his rage and desire inside her, he’d calmed down and actually looked at her. Bloody and broken and crying and violated, she looked so pitiful that even he felt sorry for her. He was trying to decide whether to finish her off of spare her when her human friends had barged in.

The horror on their faces made him truly feel guilt for the first time that night. Because it forced him to look at her from their perspective, to see not a defeated cursed spirit but a young woman who’d just been brutally raped. Their devotion to her, and her apparent protectiveness toward them, had shocked him and made him second guess himself. Had she been telling the truth when she said she loved humans? And if so, what did that make him, the person who tortured her?

And so his mind was full of her, the look of terror on her pretty human girl face, the little mewling cries of pleasure when he touched her ears, the screams of pain when he ripped those ears off. He found himself lying awake at night, jacking off to the memory of fucking her, and then feeling disgusted with himself.

If only she had been lying, if only she had really been a monster, tricking the two girls into being her friends so she could use them as cover or hurt them in some way later. Then maybe he wouldn’t be such a monster himself.

That’s when the idea hit him to track her down, to watch her for a while and try to catch her hurting someone. It would soothe his guilty conscience to know she wasn’t so innocent after all.

So he found her. It wasn’t difficult. A sorcerer of his caliber could easily detect cursed spirits, no matter how weak they were, and it was clear that Shibuya was her stomping grounds. All he had to do was hang around the streets popular with young women, and within a couple hours she appeared, flanked on either side by her human friends.

The three girls were laughing and talking, each sipping some kind of trendy drink. The cursed spirit looked more beautiful than he remembered, out here in the bright sunshine. She wore denim shorts and a crop top that flattered her figure. On her face was a lovely smile, and it occurred to him that he’d never seen her smile because he’d spent their entire encounter hurting her.

She didn’t seem to sense him at all. She was probably too weak for that. She passed by within a few feet without even realizing, and he heard her tinkling laugh, her cute voice. She sounded so different when she wasn’t screaming or crying.

He was hard within seconds.

For the next few days, he followed and observed her. She spent her days with her friends, and when they were unavailable, usually in classes at their college, she roamed around the streets of Shibuya. She spent her nights in various empty hotel rooms in the area, able to avoid being caught just by her nature as a curse. When only specific people could even see you, it was easy to sneak around.

To Gojo’s dismay, she never hurt a fly. Even when she would have been justified in doing so. One evening a man accosted her on the street, making obvious advances on her. Even a weak cursed spirit like her could have easily killed him, but she simply pulled free of his grip and fled, far too fast for the man to catch her. Once she stopped a child from chasing his ball into traffic. And every day she took the time to feed a stray cat in the area.

By all accounts, she was a sweet and gentle creature, which made Gojo feel more monstrous with each passing moment. Finally, after over a week of watching her, he decided he had to speak to her.

He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. Did he want to apologize? But how do you apologize for doing something so horrendous? Regardless, he could decide when he’s face to face with her. So one night he landed on the balcony of her hotel room, and opened the door. Silly little curse didn’t even lock it.

She was sitting on the bed, watching television, when he walked into the room. She turned to look at him, and for a moment, she seemed frozen in place, her eyes wide. Then, all at once, she leapt from the bed and ran for the door. This one was locked, and in her panic she fumbled with the deadbolt but couldn’t get it open. In desperation, she darted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Gojo walked over to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked, but a locked door was nothing to him. She had to know that. He sighed, then twisted the handle, popping it right off. He pushed the door open and stepped into the bathroom. He found the little curse sitting in the bathtub, knees pulled up to her chest, her whole body shaking. She was muttering something over and over, and it took him a moment to realize what she was saying.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

Genuinely curious, he asked, “What are you sorry for?”

She glanced up at him, her eyes already wet with tears. “For staying in the empty hotel rooms! I didn’t think that counted as hurting anyone! I’ll never do it again!”

“Oh,” he said, feeling a little disappointed. For a moment he thought maybe she’d actually done something bad that he’d missed. “I don’t care about that. Get out of the tub. I just want to talk to you.”

She was shaking so bad, it took effort for her to get to her feet. She stepped out of the tub, and stood with her back against the opposite wall. She was wearing a thin T-shirt and shorts. He couldn’t help thinking about the fact that she was probably not wearing underwear.

Gojo opened his mouth to speak, but her meek voice reached his ears before he could start.

“Please don’t hurt me again! I’ll do anything you want!”

He wasn’t wearing his blindfold, and she kept glancing at his eyes and then looking quickly away, as if they frightened her.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” he said, but he didn’t think she believed him. Her frantic eyes darted back and forth as she trembled.

Finally, she took a single step away from the wall and, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, she looked shyly at the floor. “You… liked touching me… right? I… I won’t struggle. You can t-touch me again, if you promise not to hurt me. You can… do whatever you want with me. Just please don’t tear my ears off again. It hurt so bad…”

Gojo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected this. It was such a pitiful offer. He could do whatever he wanted to her regardless, and she was completely powerless to stop him. But there was something so cute about the way she said it, his cock was immediately hard.

Fuck, he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking her again, although the possibility was in the back of his mind. How was he supposed to resist when she was basically offering herself to him?

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was still disgustingly wrong. This wasn’t consent. This was a terrified curse doing the only thing she could think of to survive this encounter with him. But that thought alone turned him on even more. Maybe he really was a monster.

Without a word, he stepped closer to her and reached out. She flinched and drew back, but she couldn’t avoid his hand. He gently gripped one of her ears and stroked it, remembering that her ears seemed to be a major erogenous zone for her. She whimpered and clenched her thighs together, her breathing becoming faster as his thumb caressed her ear.

“Your ears are really sensitive, aren’t they?”

She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “Please… please don’t hurt them.”

Hurt them? Why would he do that when rubbing them turned her into a squirming, panting little whore? Oh, he did hurt them before. What had he been thinking?

“You said you’ll do anything I want, right?” he asked, still stroking her ear.

“Y-yes,” she breathed out.

“Do you know what a blowjob is?”

She looked at his face then, her own suddenly beet red. She knew. She gave a tiny nod. “I’ve watched a lot of movies, so I know what that is.”

He wondered what kind of movies she’d been watching, but he didn’t wonder long. She dropped to her knees in front of him and reached her shaking hands up to open his pants. He could have helped her, made this slightly less awkward for her, but watching her fumble with his zipper was too cute.

When she finally tugged his pants down enough to free his cock, she paused for a moment to stare at it. He wished he knew what she was thinking as she slowly, carefully leaned forward and gave the tip a few tiny kitten licks. She looked up at him nervously, then took his entire cock into her warm little mouth.

She had no technique, and her movements were uncertain, but she felt incredible. He reached down and touched her ear, causing her to tense up. She didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t dumb enough to hurt her while she had his dick in her mouth. He didn’t want to get bitten. Instead he rubbed the ear as he had before, gently. She began making sweet little mewling cries around his cock, and he had to hold himself back from cumming on the spot.

In his mind, he pictured her as he’d seen her on the street with her friends, laughing and smiling. She’d looked radiant. Now those lips that had smiled so prettily were wrapped around his cock. Soon enough, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and his hand slid from her ear to grip her hair. He held her head steady as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth and filled it with cum, then continued holding her still until she’d swallowed it all.

When he released her, she pulled away slowly, as if unsure whether she was allowed to or not, and then looked up at him. “W-was that okay?” she asked.

Fuck. Fuck! He shouldn’t have come here. He should have left well enough alone. He already felt guilty enough, and now he was only making things worse.

But she looked so fucking irresistible on her knees before him, terrified, quivering, her hard nipples clearly visible through the flimsy fabric of her shirt, an obvious wet spot on her shorts, between her thighs. Rubbing her ears must have turned her on, even in a situation like this. Wouldn’t it be cruel to just leave her like that?

He bent down and scooped her up from the floor. She jerked and cried out in surprise, but quickly went still in his arms, her hands clutching his jacket as he carried her out of the bathroom. He took her to the bed and laid her down, and she watched him apprehensively as he pulled her clothes off.

As he suspected, she wore no underwear, and so she laid there silently, her skin flushed, as he looked over her form.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, when she again flinched at his touch. “I promise.”

She didn’t respond, only stared at him with those wet, frightened eyes. He opened her legs carefully, remembering the way he’d wrenched them apart the first time. He couldn’t even recall why he’d been so enraged at her. Even if he’d believed she was with the curses who attacked him, she herself hadn’t lifted a finger against him.

He leaned down and ran his tongue over her wet slit, enjoying the way her entire body stiffened and she stifled another cry. Then, he dove in, eating her out like a man starved. His tongue circled her clit, his lips closing around it to suck gently as his fingers plunged in and out of her dripping wet cunt. She twitched and cried out, her hands gripping the sheets.

Remembering how sensitive her tail was, he reached over and gripped it, firmly rubbing it up and down, feeling the soft fur. Her body nearly jolted off the bed as she screamed out, not in pain this time but in pleasure. He kept this up until she came, shuddering and moaning.

He stood up from the bed and looked down at her. He wanted to burn this image, of her blissed out and riding out the high of her orgasm, into his mind. If only to replace the last one he had of her.

“I’m sorry I hurt you before,” he told her when her dazed eyes started to clear.

And then he left.

Over the next few weeks, he dropped in on her from time to time, always with the intention of simply talking to her. But he always ended up fucking her, making her cum over and over, then leaving her a sticky, crying mess. After the first couple of visits, with Gojo showing no signs of violence or anger, she began to seem less afraid of him.

He knew it was all still wrong. He was taking advantage of the fact that she probably didn’t understand human relationships enough to realize what he’d done to her was unforgivable.

But now she clung to him so sweetly, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pounded into her, his lips nibbling gently on her ear.

He could never hurt her again, even if he witnessed her attacking humans. Her ears and tail, things he’d used to torture her before, were so precious to him now. He only hopes that someday, eventually, she’ll smile for him the way she smiled with her friends, happy and glowing under the sun.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo #gojo satoru #x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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