#my writing feels like cringe but at least i am free
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Crashing Tides
Authors note: So remember about 3 or 4 ish months ago I said I was working on a surfer shop worker!Daniel + moody rich 19 year old!Max age gap romance fic? Well, surprise! After a billion years the first part of it is finally here. I'm not 100% happy with it but I decided to finally just say fuck it and bite the bullet with it. I am hoping to write more in the future about this au but in the meantime if you have any suggestions or ideas about this au please feel free to share them with me :) my asks are always open <3 otherwise, I hope you enjoy!!
Warnings: language
Word count: 2,029 (2k)
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The warmth of the Australian sun beats down harshly on Daniel’s skin as he tries his best to dodge and weave through the crowded boardwalk, not wanting to run anyone over with his bike. He wipes the layer of sweat that had gathered on his forehead off on the back of his hand, cringing slightly at the sheer amount of it.
He silently regrets not taking a shower before leaving the house, but at this rate, with the amount of people blocking his way, he was going to be late.
Damn tourists.
He can hear his boss, Mark, now: "Look, who finally decided to show up! I’m glad you think this company runs on your schedule.” He rolls his eyes at the mental image of the older Australian man passive-aggressively scolding him. You would think a person who owns a beachside surf shop would be more laid-back, but no. Ever since his wife left him last summer, his boss has been nothing but a crotchety old man. And trust me, Daniel has tried many times to invite him out to bars to be his wingman for the night, but every time he offers, he gets immediately shut down and scolded for even offering.
Sorry, he was just trying to be a good co-worker and get his boss some stress relief in the form of a one-night stand with a beautiful lady.
Pulling up to the shop, Daniel rushes off his bike, hastily reaching into his bag to grab his bike lock and securing it to the pole near the side of the building. Once secure, he practically bolts into the front entrance of the shop, accidentally slamming the door open a bit too hard for his liking, causing a few customers and his coworker, Lando, to perk their heads up and look in his direction.
“I know. I know. But technically, I’m early. I still have a minute until I’m supposed to be here.” Daniel says matter-of-factly, shining a bright smile at the younger man as he walks up to the front counter that his co-worker is lounging lazily against.
“You're cutting it close, mate.” Lando comments as he glances up at the shark-themed clock on the wall. (What? His boss might be an ass, but at least he’s an ass with good taste.)
10:59 am
Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know if you want to push your luck too much. Mark is in a pissy mood today.” He explains.
Daniel rolls his eyes. “When is he not?”
Lando glances over his shoulder, making sure the door to the manager’s office is shut before whispering, “I don't know, mate; he seems grouchier than normal. Like something’s really ticked him off.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow at the younger man. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the door of the manager’s office slams open, revealing his boss on the other side.
“Speak of the devil.” Lando whispers as both of the men straighten back up as their boss steps out of his office.
"Daniel, I'm so glad you finally decided to join us for your shift that you were scheduled for.” Mark greets, scowling at him.
“Good morning to you too, Mark.” Daniel says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm that coats his words. The older man scoffs at him, rolling his eyes in a way Daniel can only describe as Oscar-worthy with how dramatic it was.
“Whatever. It’s not like I have been waiting for you all morning to get your lazy ass here.” Mark hisses, motioning his hand to the shark clock on the wall. 11:00 am. Daniel has to repress the urge to roll his eyes. He’s been there for less than 2 minutes, and he’s already having to deal with Mark’s bullshit. That has to be a new record.
"Sorry, I wasn’t here earlier. Emily decided to have a breakdown this morning about having to stay with my parents for the day.” Daniel explains half-heartedly, knowing no matter what explanation or excuse he gives the older man, he’s not going to be pleased either way.
“Well, maybe you should invest in some parenting classes then since you aren’t doing a great job at controlling your kid.” Mark sneers, “You know what? Never mind, I don’t care at this point.”
Daniel can feel his frustration growing by the second. Honestly can’t he just back off? He’s here, isn’t he? It’s not like he’s one of the only workers there, besides Lando, who does his job. If it wasn’t for the fact that the pay was nice, Daniel would have been out of there the second Mark started acting this way last summer. Plus he’s been working at the surf shop for almost 5 years now and what has he gotten for it? Nothing except for the temporary title of shift lead whenever Mark isn’t there.
As if he can sense the tension in the air between the two older men, Lando decides to speak up.
“Oh uh..by the way, Mark, this dude called earlier. I think he said his name was Jos? He said his son would be here around 11:30.”
Lando and Daniel both watch as Mark inhales deeply as if Lando’s words were the most aggravating thing he has ever heard.
“That brings me to my next point. A friend of my old man asked me to hire his son for the summer while they are vacationing here.” Mark explains. Daniel and Lando share a confused look. Mark continues, “The reason why? I have no clue. Something about how he wants his son to learn what the real world is like even though his pocket money is more than what we all make in a year combined.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, “And you just agreed? Just like that? Who’s going to train him?”
Mark smirks devilishly, “Well that’s where you come in Daniel.”
“What do you mean ‘that’s where I come in’?”
“Well, you are always complaining that you’ve been here the longest and still haven’t gotten any type of raise or promotion. Well here you go, I’m promoting you to training associate. You are in charge of training the kid and also keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”
Daniel can’t help but feel the heat of anger from earlier rise beneath his skin. “So you expect me to not only train this kid I’ve never even met but also babysit the little brat as well? What the hell do you think I am? A damn babysitter?!” He snaps, crossing his arms and scowling at the older man.
“I’m nineteen. I don’t need a babysitter.”
All three of the men snap their heads back towards the front door, only to see, who Daniel presumes is the kid Mark was mentioning, standing in the entryway. Daniel blinks as he tries to take in the teen’s appearance. He doesn’t look like any nineteen-year-old Daniel has ever seen. Sure, he has semi-smooth skin, with a blemish here and there, and an overall youthful glow about him but for some reason, something’s off about him. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders are a bit broader than his own or how his jaw is a bit too sharp for Daniel’s liking. Either way, he doesn’t like it.
“Max! I didn’t expect you to be here so soon! Is it 11:30 already?”
Daniel glances at the clock on the wall. 11:09 am.
The teen trudges over to the front counter where the others are standing and crosses his arms. “My dad said I should show up early just in case you guys were busy or something. But, by the looks of it, you aren’t and are instead talking bad about me behind my back.” Max explains, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Daniel looks over at the teen, studying his face more intently now that he is standing next to him instead of a few feet away at the door. His brow is furrowed. His pale skin is tinted with a shade of pink from the harsh Australian sun. There is a collection of freckles that are scattered across his jawline and up to the middle of his cheek, with a single one lying on his upper lip. He notices now that the teen is just a bit taller than him. Not by much but enough to make Daniel even more wary than he was before.
Mark shakes his head, “Please forgive my employee, Daniel, here Max. He has had a bit of a rough morning so his mood isn’t the best right now.”
‘The only reason why I have had a rough morning is because of you jackass.’ Daniel thinks to himself as he shoots a glare at his boss.
Max rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”
Daniel and Lando exchange glances once again, as if to telepathically ask each other if this is what they are really going to have to deal with for the next two and half months.
The sound of Mark clearing his throat makes the two of them look up towards their boss.
“Anyway, as I was saying. My employee, Daniel here, will be in charge of training you and just overall making sure you're settling in here nicely.” Mark explains, clearly trying to skip over the part where Daniel called Max a brat that he has to babysit.
Daniel shifts his eyes over to the teen next to him. Max doesn’t look impressed. He still has his arms crossed and his lips have formed a tight line of annoyance. Honestly, Daniel can’t blame him. If he was in his shoes, aka if he was a rich kid who probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and his parents suddenly made him get a job at a dingy old surf shop while they were on a summer vacation, he would be pissed too.
There is a beat of awkward silence that fills the air between the four.
“I’m guessing this is the part where I introduce myself?” Lando chuckles awkwardly, drawing the other’s attention to himself. Max stares at him silently, as if he is waiting for the other to say something else that will ultimately aggravate him even more.
“I’m Lando. I started working here about a year and a half ago. I go to the university just up the street. I usually work in the mornings because I have night classes.” He explains. Max doesn’t say anything, instead, he sighs, uninterested.
Lando scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh..When I’m not working or in class you can usually find me in my dorm playing video games.” The mention of video games makes the teen’s ears perk up with interest.
“You play video games?” Max asks in a slightly less annoyed voice than before.
“Yeah! I play all sorts of games like GTA, God of War, and F123. I actually stream my gameplay on Twitch with my friends from time to time. You should join sometime. I bet it would be really fun.”
Daniel doesn’t know if it’s the heat getting to him or what but he swears he sees the faintest hint of a smile on Max’s face when Lando mentions him joining him in a gaming session.
“I’ll think about it.”
Seemingly pleased with the exchange, Mark claps his hands together like a coach trying to round up his team for a debriefing after a game. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, Max, how would you like to follow Daniel around for today to get a feel of the environment and how things work around here?”
Daniel can feel the teen’s eyes on him before he even turns his head. His stare is as cold as ice and Daniel worries that if the teen doesn’t look away, he might burn a hole through his head.
The universe must have been on his side because just as Daniel thought he would never look away, Max shifts his eyes toward Mark. The stare he gives Mark is just as cold.
“Whatever.”
“Perfect. Now let’s get started.”
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im rabid with jade brain rot
thick fem s/o with jade rambling
slight suggestive/nsfw in some parts maybe?
• Jade who is too used to curling in on himself in coral reefs and sea walls, pushing himself further down to hide and wait for perfect moment to strike or to just simply watch ocean life swim by. Being enclosed is something that brings Jade comfort, the tight pressure all around making him feel safe and secure (a trait that mayhaps encouraged Floyd's love of squeezing). Which is why he can't help but seek your warm full figure out and bring you back to his room for a moment to escape from his busy schedule, even if it sometimes goes on for longer than he intended and gets a ear full from Azul. In his eyes, it's worth it. It started out as a small source of comfort that slowly becomes something more and more to Jade.
•He can't help but push his face further in between your breasts trying to fully block out his view of the room only wanting to see darkness. He tries to pull more of you onto him, wishing to feel more of your weight on top of him. He truly is secretly a greedy eel who wants more and more of you, and you can feel it in his actions. He sometimes wish you would just lie your whole body on top of him, your full weight on him would please him greatly, but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable so he'll take whatever you feel like giving him that day. When he finally settles down in a comfortable position, you can feel him exhale deeply before he starts kneading at your more softer parts of the body.
•If you asked Jade what his favourite part of your body is, he would give you a smile, a soft kiss on the lips and answer 'I love every inch of your body, Dear.' but you know better. Most of the time he tends to massage wherever his hands are currently at, but with how his hands always find themselves sliding down to your hips and thighs and stay there for the remainder of your time together? You would bet money he has a preference for them even if he denies it.
•During these moments in his room alone, you can't help but feel loved and also self conscious. You never really cared about your looks and weight as you got a little older. Despite the teasing from your family and bullying you had to get over as a kid, you learned to accept and love yourself eventually no matter how you looked. Tho sometimes you can still hear the comments in the back of your head when you're feeling low, and when you get into that bad mindset you can't help but wonder, why you?
•You don't think you could ever admit to Jade your insecurities most of the time since to you they just feel so small and silly, since its just about your looks and not anything you would consider important. Even if this slippery eel has a way to worm sneaky questions in while you try to vaguely vent about whats bothering you, and get you to accidentally confess your worries to him anyways. You can help but sigh at how easy it is to fall for his tricks, but you know its his way of showing that he cares and wants to help. And for that you'll forgive him again and again. A kiss here, and a squeeze or hug there, Jade is always ready to reassure you that you are lovely and perfect just the way you are and wouldn't change anything about you. (thats a lie, if he could he would wash all your doubts away in a flash so you could give him the full WWE bedroom experience and thigh choke holds he keeps wet dreaming of. he knows you need to overcome this yourself with him giving you support on the side but one can dream for the day to come sooner)
•You love having his arms around you and his hands on you, but you can't help but flinch when you feel hands sneaking onto your stomach or eyes staring a bit too long on your body and stretch marks. Normally such a thing wouldn't bother you before, but when you see how handsome he looks when just waking up, or the shimmer of his mer form in the sunlight and lean body, it's just the little things that make you question what does he see in your imperfect body. What does he see in you when he could get any one he wants.
•You remember asking once before you could stop yourself why he seemed so interested in the stretch marks that covered your hips and upper thighs. Him gently caressing the marks on your thighs made you embarrassed and a bit ashamed, you also wonder for a second if merpeople could even get them in the first place. Maybe its a curiosity he has for something he has never seen before, or likes the slight texture they have. You can't help but voice your worries over it and ask him what the deal is. He pauses, and gives a slight chuckle. You didn't expect him to bring his face to them, and rub his cheek over the marks. Jade's reasoning being that they look and remind him of rippling sands, and shore lines is enough to shock for a moment. Even if he looks back up with a teasing smile that makes you want to question him more, but you resist the urge. Such a Jade answer to be something so simple on the outside but you know holds more meaning it you looked further into it. You stopped the questioning, and worrying about his wandering eyes and hands on your body after that. You know if you asked more questions he would find more ways to lovingly tease you over it, and give an answer thats going to keep you up at night.
•Sometimes you still wonder what Jade sees in you and your body, but you slowly learn to just accept the fact that he truly might be interested in you and actually likes how you look. You know that he does have unusual tastes, and a mean part of you wants to chalk up that his love might just be the same as that. Morbid curiosity for someone who isn't thin. But a part if you feels that its cruel to try and say his love isn't true or kind, so you push the negative thoughts away and believe that he truly does love you in a pure way. As pure as a Jade Leech can get. You know your own self love, and the love Jade has for you are two completely different things and you might never fully understand it. But you find yourself not minding the idea of also learning how to love yourself through his eyes and in his own special kind of way.
•Jade doesn't think he has it in him to ever admit it, even if it's not the same as the familiar ocean's embrace he grew up with, there is just something about how you hold him back in your arms that starts to feel like home. Sometimes he ponders if its better than actual home as more time passes by, late nights at the lounge drying a glass as he watches you from across the room.
•The table you are seated at is scattered with drinks and books from the studying your friends dragged you along for, which as typical of them started out as studying and now ended up as another hangout sesh. Feeling eyes on you, you look up and over at the bar where Jade is still rubbing the same been dry glass. He knows he could be doing other things right now, but he doesn't want to you to be out of his line of sight just yet. Meeting your gaze, you give him a soft smile and for a moment he feels like all is still.
•Jade has seen your smile many times before, as most people here at the school. You were never one to shy away to express how you are feeling, and a selfish part of him wishes he could keep your smile to himself. but he is not that possessive. Not enough to force you to only smile for him alone even if he craves it, so he lets the world feel the same deep calmness he feels whenever you grace him with one. The same calmness he can only compare to childhood rests on the ocean floor where every thing is still and asleep, even Floyd is silent for once as they enjoy the tranquility together as if life is frozen in time. Little things from his past that he tucks away into the deepest parts of his heart that keeps getting dug up again and again whenever you remind him of the feeling. He promises that someday he'll let you in, and experience it and all the dark feelings he has for this world and you. When he can confirm for sure that you wont be afraid of how he truly is like and wont run away, when he knows for sure that you'll accept and love him all the same.
•After your shared private moment, a short one to you but it means more to him than you'll ever know, you turn your attention back to the conversation at hand, and Jade returns the glass to the shelf behind him. You may not be the ocean but you certainly have similar traits that he keeps finding out and comparing. It almost feels like a game to him, wanting to see what new things you'll show him and him seeing how he can connect it to something thats an important part of himself and his life. He wonders for a moment if he would someday be able to replace the whole ocean and the thought of home with your body, and Jade finds himself not minding the idea of finding a new home in you someone who is dusted with traces of his sea.
#jade leech#jade leech x reader#jade leech imagines#i dont normally put my hcs into words but this was something i needed to put on text so i can come back to it and reread#my hcs#'how self inserty was this' shut up#your honor he is in love#no i dont care if nothing in canon proves or supports it#its just a gut feeling trust me guys#there is nothing in the world you could say or show me to make me think otherwise that any of the octatrio mfs are not in love with mc#they got that love interest feeling#theres just something about how accepting they are of you in chpt4 after what happens in three that feels so sus of their chara#like 'oh i dont normally tell anyone about my UM but since its you and no-'#'its not like we trust and like you or anything youre just a silly little person not a threat at all hehe' yeah fucking right you little bit#idk it just feels different from how riddle or leona acts around mc after their episode u know??????#YA KNOW???????????#i need to post this now because i keep editing it and changing stuff or adding new things in so if there is mistakes then 💀💀💀💀#my writing feels like cringe but at least i am free#i got four hours of sleep before work cause of this
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does anyone here read return of the blossoming blade/return of the mount hua sect
#grim rambles#webtoon webnovel or both anything’s fine#I know at least one of my mutuals does#this is super vague my bad. I am killing the part that cringes but this is related to prior post about oc writing#I mean I would also love to just talk about it with someone too that’s also good#I am looking for someone who also reads it to check me on like characterization and also if I’m totally misinformed about how parts of the#story world work#it will be easier for me to talk to people who are interested in me enough to be following me#OKAY ENOUGH RAMBLE GOTTA SCHOOL#anyone who’s interested feel free to comment rb dm whatever u want#I am always free to be messaged however :3👍
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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.
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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.
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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.
#suzsblinddatewritingchallenge#targaryenvampireslayer#suz's writing challenge#writing challenge#filthy impetuous souls#jen writes#prompted#enemies to lovers#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#curvy!reader#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#sebastian stan characters#protective!bucky barnes#sniper!reader#winter soldier#the winter soldier x you#the winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes imagines
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Hcs for mirage and make it spicy too 😈
yall so down bad for that robot dick smh (me too)
its nsfw (mirage x human!reader) stuff here so mdni even though i know yall read that 18+ shit anyway but imma just put it here. also, i am a grown ass woman and was still blushing while writing this so. warning: its hella fucking long
mirage headcanons
let's start with something that just popped up in my head:
when he's the dom, he praises you a lot but also i feel like he's the type to slightly tease/mock you? hear me out. "aw, you're gonna cum? yeah? you wanna be good for me and cum?" while slamming into you and ridding you of any thoughts
and while subbing, he's so whiny... like, whimpering, begging you to let him finish (in general or inside you cause i have a breeding kink) but also, he's being a big fucking brat, literally provoking you so that you'd go harder, be meaner to him
loves edging, loves doing it to you, loves watching you squirm and turn into mush with that cocky smile on his face, only using his hands on you
he definitely likes being edged, too. definitely. imagine him with his wrists tied behind his back, you not letting him touch you/stop you from torturing him, him complying even though he could easily break free..... he's a good boy and lets you do anything you want. (whimpers)
overstimulation as well, he just loves seeing you in that state, begging, crying in pleasure, moaning, whimpering, whatever. really.
he loses it when you overstimulate him though, definitely overheating and not being able to do anything other than beg you to stop, even though he's so fucking into it
12 inches. at least tbh.
i don't even wanna imagine what his cum must taste like, it's either washer fluid, gasoline or fucking rainwater he collects inside him so that you wouldn't have to swallow the first two things idk
back to pleasant things:
he'd definitely take you on rides where he just tells you to touch yourself for him in the driver's seat so that he could watch and hear everything
if you're a bold person (me) and came up with that idea first? like, he's driving around, talking with you through the radio, the mood is already slightly sexual, teasing and all (you know how he is), and then you decide to win the war and begin slowly undressing and touching yourself.... i feel like he'd either go completely silent for a moment or be like "damn... didn't know you had it in you". and expect him to literally ruin your insides when you get back to the garage. the positions he'd put you in.....
speaking of positions. he's big. i really like to believe your human body would be able to take him (i definitely would) but i am not entirely sure. do i care, though? no.
so his fav one is cowgirl. you straddling his lap while he's sitting, his servos on your waist/hips, them not moving you up and down but only staying there, allowing you to do anything you want (he doesn't wanna hurt you as any normal person)
missionary, too. mating press when he feels like ruining you in the sweetest way possible.
he'd try most things you'd ask him to do. he's a whore tbh. but. choking is a no, slapping and any other thing that could potentially cause you unwanted pain due to his strength and size is a no for him. wrapping his fingers around your throat just so that you'd feel them there? hell yeah. actually applying pressure? you might die
doesn't mind your hands on his neck, though. he knows you can't do shit to him, he'd let you hold a knife to his throat if you wanted to tbh, he couldn't care less (turns him on)
he looks like he fucking enjoys roleplays and the cringe ones, too. like, police officer stopping him for speeding, him acting all innocent and then he has to get punished for breaking the law or some shit. he just has that face that looks like he likes these things
he'd be so bratty as well. "no, ma'am, i am sure i wasn't speeding. well, you could always handcuff me if you think otherwise....." in that fake innocent tone....
size kink, breeding kink (just pretend his cum is normal like, potential gasoline inside me is a turn off for me personally tbh), bondage... he'd tie you up but again, he doesn't wanna hurt you, he'd prefer if you had complete control over your limbs and all. but loves it when you do it to him as i mentioned earlier
he's gotta prep you real good before putting it in, again because of his size. fingers, lube, your spit, anything. he needs to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him
he'd definitely steal your panties to jerk himself off with them (will be writing a whole fic about it someday)
speaking of masturbation, he's a horny fuck, everything about you gets him going and there aren't enough occasions for you to actually have sex, so he just uses his own hand, imagining you in various positions, even the impossible ones just because.
i don't think they have involuntary boners that show and they have to transform a bit to get their dicks out so he just does it to get rid of the unbearable tension inside him, not because anybody would see him with a hard-on
he cums a lot. the fluid literally never stops coming out of his dick when he finishes. breeding kink goes brrrr once again.
once came up with a funny safe word and told you to use it every single time you feel anything else other than pleasure
his digits are so big, he could easily use just one and make you crumble for him with just pushing it in and out of you
his aftercare probably consists of him holding you after sex, although he's aware that the metal body might not be the most comfortable thing ever. he'd definitely offer to take you on a joy ride afterwards. oh, and praise, too. but would also probably playfully make fun of you for saying horny stuff you'd normally never say to him if your mind wasn't clouded with lust
he's so confident in his bedroom abilities, too, as he should tbh.
i want him to manhandle me but also make him my pet.
#mirage rotb#mirage#mirage x my pussy#mirage x you#mirage x reader#mirage smut#mirage fluff#mirage angst#mirage transformers#transformers rotb#transformers#mirage headcanons#rotb
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Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!
I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea
Can't wait to read more of your fics!
Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written.
Anyway, here’s your fic!
there’s orange juice in the kitchen
You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps.
You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine.
It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice.
The hormones don’t help either.
But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out.
You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off.
—
You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain.
It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie.
Ah, right. Jamie.
Your boyfriend.
Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago.
Shit.
You call him back and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”
You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”
“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”
“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”
Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”
You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side.
“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”
Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff.
Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate.
“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
—
Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags.
“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross.
Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.
Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun.
“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”
“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out.
For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”
You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross.
So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.
A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does.
“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”
“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”
Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are.
“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking.
“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out.
“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt.
“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”
You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”
“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”
“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”
—
It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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Powerless feelings |Daemon x Reader
Request: can you please write more? Maybe their 2 older kids also got into the fight with aemond and he hits one of them with a rock on his head which caused him to pass out which made the reader go into an early labor. Some childbirth angst and drama that ends up with happy ending and her having a girl
Author notes: This is part two to the request mentioned above covering the reader going into early labor. Part 1 of the request can be found here! if you want to read it. I don’t think I really did the request justice but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Warning: Blood, early labor, fighting.
___
“My prince.” A voice is waking him from his slumber and before he realizes that he does not recognizes the voice he squeezes his wife closer to him. “Please the king has requested you.” The first words were enough to wake him up complete. “What happened?” he demanded this time turning to the voice standing next to his bed. “I am not sure; however, your children were involved, and the king has requested everyone to get down the hall.” You too have been awakened by the voice of the maids and immediately throw the blankets off you. Without sparing the maid a glance you run towards the children’s bedroom. You throw a glance into the room and notice that two of the bed are empty except for the bed of you littlest one. “Baelon and Aedon are gone.” Dread starts forming in the pit of your stomach and you start to shake while a hand goes to your belly.
Daemon who was busy putting on a pair of pants immediately takes you into his arms. “Shh my love, we don’t what happened yet.” He tries to calm you down. His thumb is making circles on your back while he holds you tightly in his arms. “We have to go down, Daemon our babies.” He nods with his chin is resting on top of your head. You make your way out of his arms and throw a robe around yourself, so you at least look halfway decent. You were pregnant what else do they want from you. “You, stay here with our youngest and do not leave until we have returned.” He demanded of the maid that was sent to wake you. The poor girl looks terrified, but you have no time to sooth her as the only thing you want, is to see if your babies are fine.
Daemon takes you by the hand as you make your way towards the hall. Halfway down the stairs you halt and a sensation you know all too well was making your way through your body. After three pregnancy you knew how your body was acting and it felt like you were having a contraction, but it was too early. You still had a month to go. Way to early. Daemon looks at you in concern. “What’s wrong love?” you shake of the feeling that you were having contractions and to not worry Daemon further you do not mention it. “Just some cramps.” He nods and his free hand lays on your belly while he supports you down the remaining part of the stairs.
Daemon threw the doors of the great hall open allowing you to enter. The hall was full of people from the royal family to the king’s guard and about every other guest of the funeral. Who all looked at the two newcomers curiously. “Aedon, Baelon?” You ask and to you relieve the two boys came running to your side. You kneeled down, ignoring the pain you felt in your lower back and hugged them to your body. Before examining them.
You cringed at seeing the dried blood under Aedons nose and you fingers tilted his head to the side to see for any more injuries but other than the nose he did not look too hurt. His hand gripped yours and you softly squeezed it before looking at your oldest. He looked straight ahead at the conversation that was happening around you. But as soon as your hand touched his he looked at you. You gasped when you saw the blood on his hairline. “Who did this?” you ask softly not caring to listen in to the royal bitching, leaving that part for your husband. “Aemond.” Baelon his eyes darted from his father to you, who had taken his position in front of you all, and to the boy that caused it.
You looked over the wound on Baelons hair by carefully shoving his hair out of the way. It did not look like it needed to be stitched but you could only be sure after the blood was cleaned. Another contraction like feeling waved over you, this time harsher and more painful making you grimace. “Mother?” Baelon asks in concern checking your face for any signs of discomfort. “Nothing loves” You straighten up after giving both boys a kiss and put your arms around the boys.
You zone out when another pain hits you. The children around you start blaming each other but the feeling that something is wrong does not leave you. You were taken out of your state when the king called for silence. You focused on the platform where the king and queen were standing. The queen was quick to blame Luke for it but once again you attention was drawn away from the conversation. You moved your arm from Baelon to you belly and tried to draw some soothing circles on your belly. Something that always helped when Jael was bringing out his troublemaker side in your belly. At the loss of your arm Baelon linked up with his father. Tugging at his arm before discreetly looking at you. Daemon looked back at you and cursed underneath his breath.
He could see the pain that you tried to hide. You were trying to stabilize your breathing. It was something you had learnt when you went into labor with both Aedon and Jael after given the tip by Rhaenyra. Your absentminded state and the rubbing of your belly made Daemon anxious. His eyes darted to the door, but he knew the king was not going to let you and their sons leave before he had found out the truth. Daemon moved to your side and slid an arm around your waist. To further increase his worry you felt warm, and your body was shaking. He tried to draw the attention of a maester but the one in question was too busy with stitching that little rats eye.
He raised his brows at hearing the demands of both Rhaenyra and the queen as once again the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s sons was brought up to question. Daemons eyes glanced around around the room and saw an older lady sitting in the chair nearest to them and without thinking he gestured her to move the hell out of the chair. “Excuse me?” She mouthed at him clearly confused and angry. “My wife is pregnant get up out of that chair, she needs it more that you,” he snarked to the woman showing no remorse as he was not following any of the etiquette rules that had been taught him by his teachers when he was younger. Not that he ever took notice of them. The older woman scoffed at him but quickly decided the seat was not worth fighting a prince for especially when he looked like he could feed her to his dragon at any moment.
“Sit down love, please.” Daemon was guiding you to the chair. You did what he said and immediately went back to rubbing circles on your belly and trying to breathe through the pain. “This interminable infighting must cease. All of you!” At that your head shot up you looked at the king for the first time. Hopefully that this was all over and you could cuddle up with you husband. “We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demand it!” It was over. You let out a sigh of relive. Your boys only needed to apologize there would not be a worse punishment. “That is insufficient.” You hear the queen say and you close your eyes one more the pain was getting unbearable, and you knew that something needed to happen quickly. As you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach.
When you opened them again the king was addressing the crowd again. “And let it be known anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.” With those words it seems like this debacle is over and you carefully stand up from the chair. Daemon is hovering over you like a mother hen and your children are not far behind him. A shockwave goes through the hall when Alicent goes to reach for the knife and storms towards Rhaenyra. Everything is moving at lightning speed. People screaming, and commanding the queen to stand down.
Daemon had been able to get you halfway through the hall before Alicent had stolen the dagger. But both of you halted at turmoil. Children were screaming as was the Kings guard commanding Ser Criston to stand back. He however does not heed the warning and makes his way to help the queen in her attack. Daemon interceptes Ser Cristons move, fearing for his niece life. You look around the room to find family against family and at that moment you felt water trickle down your legs. “Daemon!” you get out between the pains of the unfollowing contraction.
Daemon immediately let’s go of Criston and rushes to your side. “My love” both his hands are on your cheeks forcing you to look into his eyes. “The babe is coming.” You are able to bring out “Now?” He asks almost frightened. “Yes now!” You clench your teeth through the pain. Something snaps in his head and you swear you have never seen Daemon so feral. “Maesters my wife has started her labor.” “And you.” Daemon seethed with anger turning to Alicent, who at least has the decency to look somewhat guilty. “If it wasn’t for you my wife would not be in early labor so if anything happens to her you better pray to those petty little gods of yours.” With those words he scoped you up and rushes to your chambers. The maester following close.
As soon as he placed you down, he was shooed out of the room by the maesters and the midwife. “Daemon! Daemon!” you exclaimed in panic when you saw him being rushed out of the room. “I am here love, just holler when you need me, those old goats want me gone.” He stroked your cheek and placed kiss son your forehead. “Do not leave me please” you were gripping his hand tightly. Daemon took a good look at you and instantly he began to worry about you. You were looking sweaty and panicky; you have never looked like this in the previous labors. “Of course, not love.” He kissed your hand and threatened the maester to say anything with just one glance. “I will stay right here.” You nod and grab his hand tightly as if it is the only thing keeping you from drowning.
“Okay milady push.” One of the midwives says and at the go ahead you start pushing. Your body knowing what to do, but everything still feels off. You try to remember the breathing exercise to lessen the pain, but nothing seems to help. Your head is against Daemons shoulder, and he is trying to talk you through it. “Milady, you have to push.” The maesters say when you weakly fall back against the headboard of the bed. “What do you think I am doing!” you manage to get out between breaths. You moan and you scream with each contraction, each push, but nothing seems to be working as if the babe knows it is too early and prefers to stay inside, ignoring the signs your body is giving.
You scream out as you once again push at the same time squeezing Daemons hand to pieces. You are staring over the shoulder of the Daemon completely transfixes upon something else. Your ears are ringing, and you feel you mind disconnecting from your body. Slowly the pain is fading away to a dull ache. “Y/n” Daemon is shaking you, but you barely notice. Your eyes can only blink. Your face has lost all its color and you feel limps
“Maester!” the old man is immediately by his side but does little to dimmish the fear he is currently feeling. “Do something!” He screams at the maester. His wife is looking like she is in another state so much worse that the one she was in down in the great hall. “Y/N think about Baelon, think about Aedon and little Jael.” He is back to shaking you again. “Think about me.” The last part almost sounds like a sob. Terrified of losing you Daemon is stroking the wet hair out of your face. “Please what would I do without you.” His warms lips touch yours and you seem to come out of your state a little bit. Enough to start pushing again and the Maester notices it too. “Push at the next one milady.” And you do with all of your strength that is left. You let out one last scream and then it is all over. A small baby is makes it’s way into the world kicking and screaming but alive and judging on those little lungs healthy. All your weight shifts against Daemon, who is quick to lay you on the bed. your eyes follow the midwife who cradles you baby against here to clean it and snip the umbilical cord. As she goes out of your sight you try to keep your eyes open but to no avail.
However, Daemon has only eyes for you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of that something is wrong, but he does not notice the blood streaming out of you at a alarming rate. One of the heavier midwives pushed him to the side without pardon as they roll you on your back. A wall of midwives and Maesters blocks him off any access to you and he feels his heartbeat at the top of his throat at the same time as his breathing being cut off. “What is happening?” he calls out, but he does not receive an answer. Instead, a tiny baby is pushed in his arms before that woman is also rushing towards you.
A little sound comes from the baby in his arms and his brain finally acknowledges the tiny bundle in his arm. His eyes look down at the tiny babe in his arms. So perfect, a little tiny but oh so perfect. Her little Targaryen white hair in little tuffs on top of her head. Her small little hand that is laying against his chest. He carefully tucks the blanket back and he closes his eyes for a moment. You had been right all along it was a little girl. It was a girl, and you did not even know. he felt something wet make his way down his cheek. Ashamed he wiped it off, not that anybody was watching him at this moment as they were concerned with you but he still felt ashamed. He is supposed to protect you and here you were possibly dying because he wanted another child. “You will never marry little one, nobody is going to do this to you.” He promises the little girl. “You will never know the dangers of childbirth.” He rocks her in his arms while at the same time trying to see you and find out more information.
“My prince.” Daemon opened his eyes and stands up. Somewhere in between he was sent out of the room. Doomed to sit outside of the door while they were working on you. He moved around the Maester and walked to the door. He felt himself freeze when he was halfway across the room. He could now see you; they had washed you and covered you with blankets. The midwives now busying themselves around the room with cleaning and other tasks. You looked so fragile and peaceful, and he feared the worst. He slowly approached the bed but hesitated to touch you. Scared that when he died his life would shatter. But his heart won over his mind and carefully he touched your cheek. Another insidious tear escapes him when he felt the warmth of your skin.
“Your wife needs to take a prolonged rest but other than that it will all be well.” Daemon smiles while stroking your hair softly. “And the Babe?” He asks the maester without looking at him. “The little one came early but does not seem to have any problems with deformities, breathing or her heart. But we will monitor her progress nonetheless.” Daemon could only nod while settling himself down on the bed next to you, the little babe in-between and his other hand firmly clasped in yours as if they would take you away from him if he would let go of you.
___
You awoke to bright sunlight. Your eyes immediately scanned the room for your little one but it found Jael first. Jael had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed. He was curled up with his little dragon. You heard the voices of Aedon and Baelon somewhere in the room and finally, Daemon was laying on the bed next to you and in-between the two of you was your tiny little miracle. Ignoring the pain you stretched your arm to carefully maneuver her into your arms, but Daemon kept a tight grip on her so for now you would have to settle at only looking at her.
She was perfect, like her brothers she had inherited the silver hair and while she was sleeping you were sure she had the beautiful violet eyes as well. Her little fist was resting against Daemons chest and moves with every breath he took. “You want to hold her?” You eyes shoot up to meet Daemons and you nod eagerly. Carefully Daemon places your daughter in your arms. “She is perfect.” You sigh while stroking her little face. “She is, after all she is taking after her mother.” You snort at his comment. “If she is any like her brothers she will be all you.”
“How are you feeling?” You meet his eyes again and smile brightly. “As good as I can be.” Your answers seems to have the opposite effect as a frown makes his way on your husbands face. “I mean it, I almost lost you yesterday.” You laugh at him. “So do I, I am still here, with my daughter in my arms. I am feeling great.” He does not seem convinced yet but abandons the topic anyway not wanting to ruin your bliss.
Aedon and Baelon had sneaked up at you side and were sneaking glances at the babe. “Come here boys.” You nod at them and both make their way onto the bed to join your little family of now 6. “What is her name, dad did not want to tell us.”
Long ago the two of you had made a pact he was allowed to name the boys with your approval of course and you were allowed to name the girls. Tears spring in your eyes at the notion that he had waited till you woke up to give her a name. “Alysanne.” You look up to Daemon for approval and he gives you a short nod. “Alysanne it is.” He kisses your forehead and promptly takes her out of your arms. You whine at the loss of your daughter but seeing your husband with her in his arms makes you, you weak on a whole other level. “Should we have another one?” You ask him and the tenses up. “Do you want me to be in an early grave?” “Certainly not but you look so good with a little one in your arms.” You smile at him while hugging your boys against you.
____
Tags: @wallace02sblog @cleverzonkwombatsludge
#daemon targaryen x reader#Daemon Targaryen#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen oneshot#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fancficton#hotd#game of thrones#house of the dragon imagine#daemon x reader
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Forgiveness Comes Easy | Kili x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Hii so this is my first request. Please feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna write it
Soo uhmm I saw that you write for kili and I wanted to ask if you could write something where like the reader (gender neutral) is in a relationship with kili and they are jealous(or smth) of the way tauriel speaks with him (like in the prison/dungeon scene)
Again, feel free to ignore this if you don't like this ❞
: ̗̀➛ Kili can sometimes make you jealous, and he can sometimes make you angry, but you'll always forgive him at the end of the day, especially when he makes you laugh.
: ̗̀➛ jealousy
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
You could not help but to glare and scowl as you looked at Kili, thinking about how he used to look at you like that; big brown eyes and his eyebrows slightly raised.
The gaze itself was so soft and inviting, so warm it could melt steel with just a few seconds.
You could not fathom why he would look at her like that - granted, she was gorgeous and brave and intelligent. She was all but perfect in every which way that you could ever think of; yet the way that Kili looked at her was making your stomach churn.
He used to look at you like that, with his gorgeous dark eyes so warm and gentle. His hands were so careful despite the fact that he had so many calluses that his hands felt rough at every inch. Skin made of raw iron, and cool steel for bones.
You used to think that you were his, that he had promised you his heart just as you had promised him your own; although you could see, now, that maybe only you kept that end of the bargain.
You had long thought, that with Thorin’s blessing, Kili would be as loyal to you as you had always been to him; but the way that he looked at her, and the clumsy deftness of his fingers when he passed his mother’s stone to her, it made you clench your jaw as you shook your head.
Unable to do anything but to huff and slink to the back of the cell, staring at the cold blueish grey stone walls; how they refracted with pale cyan and gentle ash colours.
You folded your arms across your chest tightly, a slight pout mixing with your frown as you did your best not to snap at Kili and demand that he shut up.
But you must have gotten your wish, as you heard him stop talking; heavy footsteps soon followed, and before you could snap at him, he was kneeling in front of you, dark spots on his trousers where his knees became damp.
You looked at him, mapping out his features for a moment before turning your head; your face met the cold, damp stone and you huffed again as you frowned. Kili cleared his throat, nudging your knee gently but getting no response. He tilted his head to the side, frowning as he knocked you again; still no response.
“Come on,” Kili sighed, squirming to sit between your legs. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me. Was it something I said?”
You scowled again as you looked at him at last, shaking your head and trying to ignore the deep, deep urge to snap at him; to scream and shout at the top of your lungs until he finally got the message.
But you could only sigh, licking your lips as you swallowed thickly. “Why do you expect me to be loyal when you can’t be?”
He furrowed his brows as he looked at you, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. “Pardon?”
“You,” you whispered harshly. “Tauriel is a fine, fine Elf but if you are going to go with her, at least tell me so I’m not following you around like a lost pup for no reason.”
For a moment, he gawked and stared at you, but then a grin came to his face as he cleared his throat and tried not to laugh. “Is that jealousy I smell on your breath?”
“No!” You snapped, the word coming out a little harsher than intended and echoing loud enough to make you wince and cringe. “No, I am not.”
Kili let out a soft laugh, trying to disguise it as a hum, and tapped your knees. “You are, aren’t you? Oh, dear, that-”
“Do not mock me,” you hissed, getting up and sitting over by the bars. “Do not even speak to me.”
He was relentless, coming to sit beside you with his head on your shoulder; that warm and sweet gaze on you as he smiled and tapped your hand so softly, taking it into his own and allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours.
“You’re right about one thing - Tauriel is a fine Elf… but she isn’t for me. I’m just trying to make an alliance, that’s all.”
“Since when were you so diplomatic?” You grumbled, refusing to look at him.
Kili gently squeezed your hand, letting his voice drop so that he was almost whispering under his breath. “Since there was someone who mattered more than a good scrap… I never meant to make you jealous, and I never meant to make you doubt how I feel for you - and only you, mind - either… I’m sorry… please stop sulking, I don’t like it when you sulk…”
You didn’t want to forgive him so easily, you really didn’t, but you knew that he was more than sincere about his words, and you knew that he meant every single one and would stand by them until the end of time; so you sighed, and gave his hand a little squeeze to let him know that you weren’t so angry about it that you would always give him the cold shoulder.
“Am I forgiven?” He asked softly, quietly.
You hummed, daring to smile a little, which only made him laugh and grin as he knew that he was off of the hook. “I s’pose. I can’t stay angry with you forever, now, can I?”
“Not until we’re married,” he pointed out. “Then you can stay angry with me all you like.”
You couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking your head fondly; you did notice that he never did that with anyone else - he never purposefully tried to make them laugh the way he did with you, he never tried to make a fool of himself or to tell jokes just to see them smile. You scoffed a little.
“I will hold you to that, you know,” you told him with a grin.
“I hope you do.”
#mlem writes#kili x reader#kili x you#kili imagine#kili fanfic#kili durin#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit kili#the hobbit fic#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit movies#the hobbit trilogy#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit x you#the hobbit x y/n#the hobbit#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings x you#lord of the rings x y/n#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings#lotr x reader#lotr x you#lotr x y/n#lotr imagine#lotr fanfiction#lotr fanfic
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Fandom Creator's Self-Rec Game!
Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.
Tagged by @the-pen-pot and actually I think @anonymintea also tagged me a while back? I vaguely remember seeing that in my activity and kind of recoiling at the idea of trying to rec my own stuff. lmfao But I have time to sit down and do it now and I am being so brave. I am just going to rec Merlin fics for this post, since that's what I've been working on and thinking about for the last four years or so, and those fics are the ones that are fresh in my mind. (Honourable mention goes to my Originals series, though, because I spent so much time on that sumabitch.)
All right, five favourites...know that this is excruciating for me and feels very cringe, because I am not normal. lmao
And Down the River's Dim Expanse (Merthur, 13k)
In which Arthur is a water spirit who tries to drown Merlin. Merlin is not impressed.
(This one feels like it kind of just disappeared into the morass of words I've vomited up on the topic of BBC Merlin. I don't think it's got nearly as much attention as any of my other fics, but I'm fond of it because I love fairytales and folklore and specifically anything to do with any kind of creature that lives in the water and especially if said creature tries to drown people. I'd love to do something like this again and have several ideas for fairytales to adopt (i.e. twist completely out of shape).
The Book of Merthur (Merthur, 600k+)
'It was awkward business to ignore a man sitting the length of one knee from you, especially when he had such voluminous ears, and though Arthur made a valiant attempt at it, he had soon to abandon this in favour of grousing at Merlin for a myriad of grievous transgressions, the most pressing of which was his manner of sitting far too close, as if they were mates. This shortcoming was to become a theme when they laid down after passing round a hard cheese and some bread, Merlin in Arthur’s cloak, and Arthur in nothing at all, because his was the greater constitution; and whilst Arthur was working himself into the choicest bit of ground, with the least stones, Merlin suddenly rolled over, mummified within the cloak Arthur’s thoughtfulness had provided, and put his nose into Arthur’s neck.'
The 'yes homo' we all deserved, righting the heterosexual wrongs of canon.
(My thus far 646,363-word essay on the issues I have with canon. I'm eight chapters from the end and already feeling that post-huge-project depression even though I have several ideas for what I want to do next. I really love writing historical fiction and have incorporated that into fics before, but this fic has shown me that I really really love writing fantasy heavily inspired by history: it's the same amount of research, with the added bonus that I can do whatever the hell I want. Also, as mentioned in my first rec, I really love fairytales and folklore, and this gives me the chance to incorporate them in a way that straight up historical fiction doesn't allow. Basically, this fic has allowed me to shove my boner for Arthurian legend and medieval history down people's throats at the same time. Ain't free gay fanfiction where I can do what I like great?)
Fools by Heavenly Compulsion (Merthur, ?k)
In which Arthur is gay and besotted, Merlin is bisexual and oblivious, and they have to get their shit together through WhatsApp.
(I have no idea how many words this technically is, because it's comprised entirely of screenshots of fake social media posts. I've read a few social media fics and enjoyed them and got a whole bug up my ass wanting to try it. I thought it would be an interesting challenge because it would take away so many things that a writer can usually rely on to tell a story, and for me specifically it would completely cut me off from any kind of descriptive writing. So basically I cut off all my limbs except like one arm and decided to see how I got on with that. And it HAS been really interesting to try and shape a narrative through texts and Instagram and twitter posts and still try and convey emotions and distinct personalities with such limitations on what I can actually show. It's also a lot of fun putting the posts together, although you can definitely fall down a deep rabbit hole of trying to pick just the right photo.)
Whereat the Two Sword on the Field of Death a Deathless Love (Merthur, 131k)
In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. But not quite in the way you think. 'The Once and Future King'/Merlin mashup; now with 50% more gay.
(This was the first Merlin fic I ever wrote, and an homage to one of my favourite books. It was also me trying to get the show rewrite monkey off my back and distinctly failing at that, since I went on to write one that is over 600,000 words and still not complete. It's also proof that I am 100% capable of rewriting the show in under 150k, I just chose to inflict over 600,000 words on anyone insane enough to sit down and read a 600k gay porn version of BBC Merlin.)
And Time and the World Are Ever in Flight (Merthur, 39k)
In which Arthur returns to the 21st century, learns about Google, and finally realises his dream of running away to a farm with Merlin.
(Listen, the finale damaged me, I'm still damaged, and I tried to undo it with nearly 40k of tea and baby sheep. A.K.A. the one where Arthur returns and they run a sheep farm in Ireland together and finally figure out they're gay for each other and neither of them is alone ever again.)
Tagging @aemelia (you will have to rec all of yours lmao) @kirythestitchwitch @thetourguidebarbie and anyone else who wants to do this and has multiple fics.
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Militsioner Hc post bc I am cringe but I am free:
Heads up, I haven’t gotten my grubby little hands on the demo quite yet, so don’t expect perfection here!!
-So, Slavic language branch, right? I feel like our mili would at least understand some other Slavic languages, maybe even speak a little. For self-indulgent reasons, I’d like to think he has a pretty ok grasp on polish, particularly. Can’t write in any other language to save his life, though.
-In the same vein, this man has barely illegible handwriting. I know he writes poetry, but I’m starting to think maybe there’s a reason HE has to read it to the player.
-I hc his height being around 1,500 feet maybe?? Not much to compare him to, so this is really just eyeballing.
-It’s given that he’s actually pretty sensitive! His emotions are also very prone to sudden changes from what I’ve seen, and he clearly isn’t very happy overall. Until directly exposed to stimuli, though, he’s very monotone. I kind of interpret this as some kind of masking or emotional suppression.
-Ofc the moment thunderstorms come around that all goes away (canon, for whoever didn’t know). This man has very real panic attacks and will shut down. The worst part about all that, though, is that he physically can’t move anywhere or even shake too much. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HIM. He would kill people, and he knows it so well. Mili can’t even let himself scream because that’d probably blow people’s eardrums out. He just has to hunker down, internalize absolutely everything and sob as quietly as he can, though of course, that’d be heard too.
-I’m linking that back to him hiding emotions most of the time, that behavior is so intense during his panic episodes that I feel like it’d carry over into day to day life. That’s why he’s so receptive to basic kindness. It’s literally the only comfort he has, and the only time he can break from masking everything ever, and he’s still subtle then.
-Something something anxiety disorder perchance..
-Also someone on here talked about the militsioner being autistic and let’s just say I’m pretty happy abt that one :)))
-Mili gets so attached to anyone who even cares to be nice to him. If they betrayed him and left on the train, he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself. He’d just be fully bewildered and inconsolable.
-If he were normally sized and whatnot, he’d be terrified of horses. No explanation or anything. They’d just freak him out.
-I feel like he’d enjoy classical music, specifically Tchaikovsky and Chopin. Very melody-rich and sophisticated. He’d wag his finger and pretend to be conducting very badly. My little (humongous) king of cring..
-Mili likes being read to! He loves listening to people talk to him. He’s a wonderful listener and just quietly melts away at that kind of affection.
-In the rare occasion of which someone falls asleep on him, he just totally freezes. Mili gets so awkward with it bc he’s terrified of screwing it all up. No doubt he’d be staring at them the entire time, though. Just.. totally mesmerized.
-I think someone else said this before, but if he were a bird, I think Mili would be a shoebill.
That’s about it now BYE don’t look at me
#militsioner#niche interests#tall boys#headcanon#writing#it’s over#pee pee poo poo#I POST CRINGE#point and laugh#everyone point and stare#kind of g/t
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~ Rebekah Jordan's Commission Info for 2024 ~
Have you ever had a dream that you wish you could save and relive over and over again? A story idea that you simply cannot flesh out or find anything that comes close to your idea already written? Have you always wanted to see Yourself Actually in a story? Have you searched and searched for a good story focused around your out-of-the-way kink and it just does not exist? - I can help.
Come chat with me and I will help your fictional dream come true! Or, at the very least, committed to paper in an amazingly written story that you will adore.
Read on for more info, and please reblog to spread the word :)
How does it work?
You send me a message and we discuss what type of story you’d like. If I think I can do it properly for you- it’s a go!
You provide details about the character (you, someone else, multiples). Stories can be OFC, Actual People, or Reader Insert.
You leave me alone for a little while and when I return, you’ll get a PDF file of your fic (usually including custom art) emailed right to you!
What fandoms are you writing for lately?
Any fandom can be negotiated provided I am familiar with it and feel like I would do the details justice. Ex: I’ve watched football, but I’m not going write a great football story because I just don’t get it. ;)
Fandoms I have written for and am comfy with:
Supernatural, Supernatural RPF (Mostly all ships and characters/actors)
The Boys, The Boys RPF
The Walking Dead, TWD RPF (Rick, Negan, Daryl)
Marvel (Cap, Bucky, Sam Wilson), Marvel RPF (Evans & Stan)
Criminal Minds
The Hunger Games
The Magicians (All Characters and Ships)
The Winchesters, The Winchesters RPF
Daisy Jones & The Six (Billy Dunne)
Random RPF Actors/Singers
What Kind of Story Can You Do?
Anything. No, wait. I’m afraid you don’t believe me. I mean… ANY T H I N G. You want hardcore smut that boarders on problematic? I’m in. You want the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed and would make Hallmark movies cringe? I got you. Angst? Dark stuff? General? Literally Anything you want. I only have one or two things I’m not comfortable with but that can all be discussed in private, and honestly, after 8 years doing this, no one’s ever come close to asking for them so you’re 1000% good to ask for whatever.
What’s the bottom line here?
Well, your story, which will be anywhere from 1,000 - 10,000 words depending on how wordy I get, will be a flat rate of $25. This includes my full attention to your story from start to finish, accompanying art, specific detail inclusion, and an emailed PDF file that you can print out or delete, or whatever you want. It’s yours.
I do not write for word counts, only for the story. If your complete story can be told in 1k words, that’s great. If it takes another 40,000 and we end up with a novel, we can discuss a little extra depending on how far we go! If you'd like a series... let's start at $30 and see what happens! I’m more worried about giving you the best story I can than worrying about word counts.
Commissions are not limited to type or fandom. It costs nothing to ask, and the worst I can say is "sorry, I can't write that".
If you'd like to discuss an idea that is NOT specifically fandom related, I'm open to that as well!
If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’m not scary.
You can also check out my Tumblr Masterlist for examples of my work incase you’re unsure. And… just a reminder, Patrons get a discount!
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~Lost and Found~ (Larissa Weems x Student!reader)
The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.
...
Please don't murder me for this being so late!!! I wasn't doing great mentally after mocks so took a break from writing so this was written in small chunks over the course of nearly two weeks so I'm very sorry if it's super disjointed!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (1.7k words)
There isn't a lot of larissa in this chapter because I wanted to focus on some world building and finally properly introduce you guys to the readers friends/my OCs.
Thank you as always to @thefangedman for editing this and with such a quick turn around so you guys didn't have to wait any longer for an update!
The room was large but not overwhelming. It had an almost comfortable aura despite this being my first time inside, as well as despite my reason for being trapped inside.
I slowly made my way to my feet, drifting throughout the room; searching. For what? I don't know. It is drawing me closer. An overwhelming feeling hits me in progressively stronger waves as I make my way towards what I can only assume is the en suite. I slowly push the door open, uneasiness slipping into the atmosphere.
Something isn't right.
I can't tell what is wrong. My eyes quickly dart to all corners of the room, seeing nothing out of place. That's when I see it. A small cigarette case, tucked beside the rather nice clawed bathtub. So that's where the funding goes, Weems is living in luxury while I can barely get a hot shower most days, for fuck’s sake. I'll be bringing this up with her later.
I approach slowly, bending down to collect the case and look inside, to figure out what the source of this strange aura is. I turn as I hear sharp knocking, followed by a very angry - yet almost concerned voice?
"Y/N M/N L/N! Come out right this instance! I will break this door down if I have to, don't snoop through my drawers. I know you've been thinking about it. I just wanted to talk."
I turn back around, moving towards the sink to lift a metal nail file, before making my way to the window, attempting to unlock it. I try to as quickly as possible make my way through it. Weems’ bangs get louder, until I hear one exceptionally loud one and the clicking of heels.
I am just about free when my sleeve snags on a rogue nail, pinning me like a frog in a biology lesson, ready for my dissection at the hands of Weems. As I am struggling with my sleeve she bursts into the bathroom.
I manage to get free just before she can snatch me, darting away; lungs burning as I do more exercise than I've done all week.
I look around: I was at the back of the school in a place I’d never been before, however, my worry of being followed meant that I didn't want to stop and get my bearing - at least until I wasn't so out in the open.
Eventually, after much running and much pain, I find my way into - an abandoned section of the school? I've never seen this place before, which is strange, considering I've searched high and low for the best hide outs on campus to go while... not fully present, let's put it like that.
The corridor I have taken refuge in is dilapidated, walls crumblings with a thick layer of dust clinging to everything. I wonder what happened that they left this place in such disrepair, especially since Weems is always complaining how we don't have enough space, and the board wants to let in more students so they can make more money.
Fine, sometimes I do eavesdrop on Weems... I get bored sitting in her office most days, and she doesn't let me read or draw because it's a punishment so I'm apparently "not meant to be enjoying it".
I crouch down in an alcove close by, reaching into my jacket pocket. Silently I curse myself, realising I've left my book in Weems’ office. Knowing I'll have to go and ask for it back if I ever want to finish it makes me cringe. I can already hear the lecture I'll get from Weems.
Eh, it'll be fine, I'll just sneak in after curfew so I can avoid seeing her again. Resting my head against the wall behind me, I take out my box of cigarettes and my lighter. Weems thankfully didn't find it in my pockets and take it for the 10th time this week. I'm old enough to smoke, I don't get why she's so annoying about it.
It's not even like I'm smoking anything serious in front of her - it's just nicotine, so I don't get what the issue is, especially since I've seen the ash tray hidden the the bottom drawer of her desk. She's definitely a stress smoker.
I shake off the thoughts of her, quickly lighting my cigarette and taking a drag, wondering why I still feel so on edge even though I have reached safety away from her gaze. As I take another drag, I remember the cigarette case. No wonder I'm so on edge, that thing has some of the worst energy I've felt in weeks.
I take it out, slowly examining the gold casing. It wasn't fancy but it was well made and loved. The roses engraved on the front and a small inscription on the back were worn down and the casing itself had seen better days, small scratches and dents littering it. I did my best to make out what the message said.
"My dear___ ______a, I will never forget the ____ we shared together. I will re____ to you soo_, _ith love M_______."
It was pretty easy to fill in the gaps, but the names left me at a loss. I careful open the case and inside there is a single half smoked cigarette with a distinctive dark berry lipstick stain. I pick it up and my veins go black, the loss flooding my body as a specture of the past appears before me.
They are clearly crying, sitting on a set of steps holding the cigarette between their fingers, rain beating down from the sky soaking them - but they don't seem to care. It takes me a few minutes before I recognise the person as my very own principal, but before I can question her I am dragged back to the land of the living. My own cigarette is long abandoned on the floor as my hands shake, my body trembling at the sudden rush of emotions.
Once I return to normal - veins blue and not black - I take a deep breath and return the cigarette to its case, pocketing as I get to my feet. I slowly make my way back to the in-use section of the school building.
I make it back to my dorm, Wilde Hall, without any staff spotting me. Thankfully, they don't typically patrol the older students' dorms, as they are more concerned with the younger students drinking underage and such. Also, unless repeating, we attend by choice, so typically the students behave better than the younger ones, who's parents force them to be here.
I push the door open, only to be met with my two best friends destroying my room.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" They both turn to me with guilty smiles. Noah is the first to speak.
"Hey N/N, we didn't think you'd be back so soon... we were just... um, looking for that book you borrowed from me?"
I roll my eyes at his ill attempt at lying. "The book that is clearly sitting on my desk, and for no reason would be in my wardrobe?" I stand with my arms folded glaring at them both, waiting for one of them to reveal the truth behind their chaos.
Kat is the first to break. "Noah was looking for your leather jacket because he wants Ajax to think he's cool so that he'll ask him on a date!"
They are so fucking annoying I swear, but deep down I love them for it. "You could have just asked, you know I would have lent it to you, so I don't get why you needed to destroy my room looking for it. Also, you should ask him out yourself, instead of waiting for him to make the first move - I've been telling you for months he's into you."
Noah rolled his eyes before arguing back, "Firstly, you nearly murdered me when I took your tweed trousers, and secondly, you say that about everyone! You think that everyone is into everyone, just cause you can't keep in your pants."
Kat chimed in, doubling down on the attack. "You're a total slut! I swear you've been with half the school at this point!"
I grab Noah's book from my desk and fling it at them, causing the pair to throw curses at me. "Both of you are just jealous because I can actually pull unlike you both. Plus I only got mad because I had planned the outfit I was wearing that night around those tweed trousers - I had to completely redo the outfit at the last minute, you're lucky I had a back up outfit!"
Before they can reply, the door swings open and a disheveled Miss Thornhill enters. She is out of breath and has bags under her eyes, likely researching new plants late again, remembering that time I found her passed out in the greenhouse at 4 in the morning, her coffee and notes both left half finished.
"Y/N... I hear you've been getting on Principal Weems’ bad side again. Can you not even go one week without annoying her? She's already stressed as it is with the new student who is due to arrive today, which is likely why she's requested you to be assisting her the rest of the week instead of attending your regular classes. She would like you to start immediately after the disappearing act you pulled this morning."
I groan audibly, before trying to bargain with Miss Thornhill.
"Please, Miss, can I not work in the greenhouse with you, I'm so much better with plants than paperwork."
She gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Y/N, I tried to get you out of it, but you've really managed to annoy her this time. What did you even say to her? You know what. I don't think I even want to know.”
She turns her eyes away from me, addressing Kat and Noah. “And as for my two favourite students, class starts in 5 minutes - hurry up and grab your books or I'll feed you to my carnivorous plants!"
A mock offended expression makes its way onto my features as I dramatically slam my hand over my heart. "Am I no longer your number one student? After all I've done for those plants, I'm now I'm being replaced? I see how it is, Thornhill. You're no longer my favourite teacher anymore - and to think I didn't skip a single botany class because of how much I cared for you!"
She shakes her head at me, exasperated by my antics, and I slowly trudge my way down to Weems' office, dreading the coming week. I knock on the large wooden door to her office, a chill running down my spin as I hear her almost cruel tone.
"Enter!"
-Tag list-
@the-bagel24 @suckerforcate @zerolovestpn513 @multifandomlesbianic @littledollll @freshmoneyalmondathlete @jinxscatbomb @khajiit-trading-caravan
#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems#marilyn thornhill#oc x character#student x professor#morticia x gomez#wenclair#ocs#ajax petropolus#t4t mlm#wednesday#enid sinclair#wednesday addams#mortica addams#gomez addams
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I am sooo glad you take requests! Feel free to decline this if you dont like the idea but can you write a fic with either James or Sirius (your choice :)) in which the reader fears intimacy and like has a hard time trusting people, which makes them not believe James/Sirius’ love so they think the flirting is just a friendship thing. And they cant understand why reader keeps running away but when they find out the reason James/Sirius tries to convince the reader to give their relationship a chance? I hope you like the idea, thank you so much in advance!!
thank you for the request anon!! sorry for taking too long with this, exams got in the way so my motivation for anything was pretty much below zero :") but i loooove this idea, so here you go! i hope you like it! <333
daylight.
masterlist
pairing - sirius black x reader
trope/tags - friends to lovers, fluff
word count - 3.6k
warnings - language
sirius black was what one may call a heartthrob. winning everybody over with the snap of a finger, being the main topic on everyone's diary pages, having people fall to their knees with a simple glance sent in their direction. some wanted to be him, some wanted him. he loved the attention, of course, the thrill of having so many people fall for you was rather addicting thing for a teenager, but he wanted someone else, and that someone just happened to be you. and it wasn't just a simple type of want, the "let's snog in the broomstick closet a couple of times till i get bored of you and find another", no. he wanted all of you. sirius black was in love, but it was really not going his way this time.
"i don't know why i keep getting rejected." sirius whined hopelessly, tossing his tie somewhere on the floor in frustration and slumping down onto his bed. the mattress squeaked from the impact, making remus look up from his open book.
"you've been on nine dates." james pointed out, trying to calm the other down. nine didn't seem like a big number to him (as he had gone on at least 30 with lily before she agreed to become his girlfriend), so the poor bloke got ignored. sirius kept on rambling thoughtlessly.
"that's the bloody problem, nine dates, prongs, nine! and you know what? they weren't even proper dates. not even proper dates! do you hear that? like are you getting that? not. even. proper. dates. fuck!" sirius grunted, falling back into his pillows with a rather distressed sounding sigh. remus rolled his eyes.
"they weren't?" peter chimed in. he wasn't usually the one who showed much interest in his friends' love lives, but he sure found whatever the hell sirius had going on with you rather intriguing.
"'it was lovely hanging out with you sirius, you're a wonderful friend.' after each and every single one so, no, don't think they were." peter felt guilty for cringing, and he could only look towards sirius with a sympathetic glance.
remus, on the other hand, was finding the situation a bit ridiculous. he simply couldn't suppress a snort, and sirius did not fail to catch it, "what are you laughing at?"
"you." he threw a pillow in remus' face.
"give it more time, mate, i'm sure it'll work out eventually." james was really trying his best to reassure his best friend, but it was never easy with sirius. especially not now that you were in question.
"don't you think i'm trying? i'm– fuck. fucking fuck." he put his face into his hands, groaning loudly in distress."i think i'm gonna go mental." he said dramatically.
"seems like you're very serious about this, sirius." remus said nonchalantly, drawing laughs from both james and peter. sirius inhaled sharply. he was, indeed, very serious about you. it wasn't everyday that he actually felt like he was falling somebody, and it certainly wasn't everyday that he, sirius black, one of the most confident blokes in the whole bloody school, was turning red trying to talk to a person. and you just kept rejecting him, subtly that is. friend this, friend that. friend, friend, friend. he loathed the word. he wanted you, and not in the platonic sense.
"you lot are shit mates, you know that?" sirius huffed angrily, crossing his arms and sulking like a frustrated toddler.
"we love you too, padfoot." james blew a kiss his way, jumping up onto his feet when sirius began chasing after him with a wand in hand. they sped down the stairs from the dormitories and into the common room - sirius was yelling and james was laughing hysterically. the pair ran past the sofa where you and lily were sitting. you were pretty sure they fell over somewhere outside the portrait hole and were probably wrestling judging by the sounds they were making.
"that's the man you fancy, huh?" marlene scoffed from the corner of the room, giving you a judgemental stare. you shrugged, scratching the back of your neck in thought. yes, that was the man you fancied indeed. sometimes you wondered why, but then he'd lock his eyes with yours and every sense of doubt and uncertainty would wipe itself away. it wasn't all that easy, though.
"and lily's gonna marry his other half," mary put a hand over her heart, "how romantic." she wiped away a fake tear.
"romantic?" marlene said in disgust.
"oh sod off, you two." lily rolled her eyes. "sirius isn't half-bad." her way of speaking was so honest, it was suspicious. you squinted your eyes at her skeptically.
"what? can't really chat shit when my boyfriend is basically the same, minus the lack of critical thinking and self-awareness." lily winked at you. you put your face into your hands, screaming into them. you heard mary snicker.
"are we talking about the same james?" marlene teased, raising an eyebrow. you suppressed a laugh.
"we get it, you hate men." remus rolled his eyes as he appeared in the common room, and let himself fall onto the couch right next to you. he stared at you in amusement when he noticed your regretful expression.
"something on your mind?" he questioned.
"sirius," mary coughed, "sirius." she coughed again.
"oh." remus laughed to himself, and then went quiet. you thought, hoped, that the conversation would come to an end there, but remus had different intentions.
"do i create drama or not?" he said in thought, trailing his eyes over you and your friends. you pursed your lips in thought.
"oh, please do, the last interesting thing that happened was when marlene and dorcas were found snogging in the forbidden forest after attempting to use the imperius curse on one another." mary said desperately.
"and that was two months ago." lily added.
"i hate all of you." marlene made a face, and stuck a hand down her pocket to pull out a cigarette.
"alright then," remus smirked, throwing an arm around you, "sirius threw a tantrum about five minutes ago because you keep rejecting him." your eyes widened. you stopped breathing for a moment. what the hell?
lily's jaw dropped in amusement, marlene burst out laughing, and mary appeared to be coming up with plans on how to organise your wedding ceremony. for real this time.
"i'm sorry, what? he what– he did– remus–" you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to form them. sirius fancies you. you flung yourself backwards into the couch, your face was painted with worry. sirius black threw a tantrum because you rejected him. sirius fucking black threw a tantrum because you rejected him. "merlin's bloody beard, what the hell?" you ran your hands through your hair, exhaling exhaustedly.
luckily, none of your friends were that oblivious, and they quickly noticed that you weren't taking piss acting like nothing of this sort had ever actually been brought to your attention.
"hey, why the face? that's good news!"
"am i experiencing the consequences of miscommunication again?"
"i thought you fancied him!"
"are you okay?"
questions, so many questions and shocked and confused faces left and right. as much as you hated to admit it, you did owe them an explanation. this wasn't the only occasion on which people tried to tell you sirius was into you, but it was different this time because it was coming from remus. sirius was into you. he was into you. he was fucking into you. he wasn't just playing around like he does with others.
"i know, mary. and no, remus. and yes, i do, marlene. and honestly, lily, i don't know." you said it all in one breath, tiredly sighing. you'd been head over heels for the man for years, yet it always felt off. no one knew why though, you never brought it up. your friends knew you fancied him, but you never dared to tell them why you were pushing him away whenever he tried to initiate something. in truth, you were afraid of relationships and you feared intimacy. it wasn't something you could just overcome overnight. you had a difficult time trusting others and you were always vary of who you shared your secrets with and who you would open up to, anyway. so the thing was, it only became worse when it actually came to dating and falling in love.
to top it all off, sirius was naturally flirty, so you too, naturally, brushed it off and chalked it up to his normal, daily behaviour. you'd seen him jokingly flirt and kiss james, and mary, and marlene, and even remus who slapped him for it once, so you simply couldn't envision sirius returning the feelings when he was acting like every single one of his friends was also his significant other. all of that put together felt like an absolute train wreck and you didn't know what to do about it.
both lily and remus soon had their arms around you, and were looking at each other as if they were trying to find a way to telecommunicate and figure out what was wrong. marlene and mary moved over from the corner they were sitting in to the floor, and they were in front of you, with worried and comforting eyes.
"you can say what's wrong, y/n, it's alright." mary said, squeezing your knee reassuringly.
"we won't tell a soul." marlene added with a smile.
"it's just that– i'm– fuck," you started, not knowing if you should talk. you met lily's troubled expression and swallowed the lump on your throat,"i'm so horrified of relationships and sirius is– he doesn't– i thought he was just fucking around and i don't even know if i can trust him to not break my heart and i just– he's the same with everyone, you know, flirting and and all that and i don't want to be hurt and it feels like shit. actual, fucking shit. and intimacy– merlin, don't even get me started– it's scaring me, all of it. and then in the end– i just start feeling like i won't ever be loved, like truly loved, you know?"
"y/n–"
"don't 'y/n' me and try to say you understand." you snapped, "do you know what it feels like? looking at everyone around you all cuddly and giggly with their boyfriends and girlfriends and then feeling like you're going bloody mental because you want it too but you're fucking terrified of it all and then you can't tell if the guy you're into likes you back or not because he flirts with anything that fucking moves and breathes? no, you don't." you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, and then tried to wiggle out of lily and remus' grasp, but they held you back.
"listen, to me, y/n. it's okay, alright? you're not going mental, or insane or anything like that. and i can assure you're not the only one who's felt like that before." remus said the words a bit unsurely, but not untruthfully. you leaned your head onto lily's shoulder.
"but, what can i do about it? i can't just ignore it all and hope it goes away." you said honestly. you had no idea what to do, and you were afraid that you had no other option but the one you wanted to avoid most.
"well, talking to sirius would be a good start." mary suggested. the other three nodded along.
"and then what?"
"then, assuming that he'll understand what you're saying, you'll feel better and maybe even get a boyfriend who will accept your fears won't force you to do things you don't want to do." lily finished, smiling affirmatively.
"but what if it doesn't work?"
"fuck him." marlene said without thinking, "no really, fuck him. you deserve someone way better, not some slimy prat who can't even respect the person he bloody fancies."
"fuck who and when and where?" sirius entered the common room, appearing rather dishevelled.
"speak of the devil." remus spoke under his breath.
"definitely not you, black." marlene stood up from the floor, returning to her spot in the corner and picking up her cigarette which was sitting in a make-shift ashtray. he flipped her off, and then ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitories.
the following week, something shifted. it's not like you and sirius drifted apart, you didn't, but he stopped being... him? no more hand touching, no more kisses on the cheek. but there were more questions, more asking of what you're comfortable with rather than just doing it immediately. and that's when you began suspecting he overheard your conversation with remus and the girls as you had sort of forgotten him and james were just outside the portrait hole.
in reality, that wasn't really the case. sirius just became kind of, well, depressed. after his little outburst in the dormitories, he lost all of that little hope he had for starting a relationship with you. he didn't know what he was doing wrong, and why you kept putting him in the friendzone when his friends had been telling him that you were clearly into him. was it you? was it him? was it neither of those things?
he became cautious. didn't want to touch you anymore, scared thinking that it upset you. didn't want to flirt with you either, terrified that it made you feel uneasy. his melancholy over it all began projecting onto everybody else around him.
james gave up on attempting to comfort him because he himself was too exhausted by sirius' constant state of dread. peter stayed out of it. and remus, well, remus was fed up with him and would have probably murdered him on a couple of occasions if james wasn't there to jump in and snatch his wand away.
"i still don't know what i did wrong. can someone tell me what i did wrong? 'cause i don't know what i did wrong!" sirius buried his face into his pillow, screaming into it. same thing, over and over, every day, every night.
james and peter glanced at each other, no words exchanged, and they both pretended to be occupied with something else. remus tried his best to ignore him, and continued writing the essay he was working on.
"is there something wrong with me? like geniuenly is there? am i fucked up? oh no, i might be fucked up, what if i really am?" remus' quill snapped. james let out a huff of frustration. peter hid in the bathroom. and sirius kept talking.
"y/n hates me, i just know it. it's 'cause i'm fucked up, that's what i get for–"
"merlin's beard, will you shut up?" remus finally snapped. sirius pouted, looking up at the ceiling with glossy eyes. the other boy sighed, standing up from his own bed and walking over to sirius'. he wasn't planning on ratting you out, you were supposed to talk to sirius and tell him everything yourself, but remus was tired. tired of looking at his friend go through a major case of self-destruction, and tired of having to endure it all. so remus talked, maybe when he shouldn't have, but he did not regret one bit of it.
***
"are you free right now by any chance?" sirius burst into your room a week later, uninvited and without making any previous announcements.
"uh–" you dropped your notebook and quill, awkwardly tossing them to the side, "yeah, definitely. "
"fantastic, let's go." he grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets and trotting out of the room. you stood up from your bed and quickly put on some shoes, following after him. you happened to pass by james who gave you a pat on the shoulder. one more reason to think him and sirius know. great. fantastic. amazing. the lake was looking rather attractive today.
"where are we going?" you asked once you were by sirius' side.
"was thinking about a walk, nothing too crazy."
"oh, yeah, that sounds nice."
that's what you did. walked and talked around hogwarts, and in the end found yourselves sitting at the said lake despite the clouds which started covering the sky. sirius never brought up what happened the week before, but you weren't sure if you could stay quiet any longer. it stressed you out more than all of your stupid exams combined, and really, he was going to find out one way or another.
"are you alright?" you asked. not a bad start, you told yourself.
"mhm, why wouldn't i be?" he responded, falling backwards into the grass in sighing in content. you followed his movements, lying flat onto your back.
"i don't know, you're too... alert. acting like i'd break if you touch me or something." you said, fumbling with your hands.
"what?" he turned his head to the side to look at you.
"you heard what i said that night on saturday, after we got back from hogsmeade, didn't you?" you were looking at him too.
"what are you on about–"
"how i said i fancy you but i'm scared of dating you because i'm horrified of getting intimate and i don't know if i can trust you not to hurt me?" you explained, thinking that it would help him remember. or stop playing around with you. he was quiet. you regretted speaking, and were ready walk off, and probably would have if he hadn't grabbed you by the hand when you tried to.
"no, wait! just wait, please." he choked out. and so you did.
"i stopped it all because i thought you didn't feel that way about me," he began, you listened attentively, "everyone told me that you did, and that it would work out and stuff, but i don't know, you always made sure i knew i was your friend, so i figured i should stop pestering you and just settle for that instead." he finished with a shrug.
"oh, no, sirius." you groaned, hugging your knees to your chest and burying your face into them. "and then, uhm," sirius licked his lips, as if he was trying to find the right way to form whatever he was going to say, "remus told me, uh, the same thing you just did." you looked up and at him, scanning his face for any sign of judgement and disappointment, but there was none of it.
"i was convinced he was taking the piss at first or trying to set me up for embarrassment or something 'cause i was getting on his nerves, don't even know what was going through my head," he laughed at himself, "but then i thought about what he said, and i was trying to find a way to talk to you and uhm..." he scratched the back of his head. "turns out i'm not that cool. every time i told myself i'll try, i felt like running off somewhere and hiding 'cause i was horrified you'd reject me. still am, honestly but that doesn't matter 'cause i still– i still wanna be with you, y/n."
you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. sirius black left you speechless once again. he wanted to be with you, even after knowing that what he might get won't be like all of those others relationships he's had before.
"look, i really like you, and i don't think i've ever felt that way about anyone. i know that it doesn't sound convincing coming from me, but it's true. i wanna be with you, like i really, really do because i love you and i–" he cursed silently. a smile began forming on your face, and he wasn't even done yet. "can you give us a chance, please? i'll talk to you, you'll talk to me, we'll communicate everything, if i'm doing anything that's bothering you i'll stop, i'll ask questions, i'll try my best to make it feel right for you, i'll fullfill any wish you have–"
"sirius."
"and if you still don't feel ready or if you're still having doubts, it's okay. i'm not gonna force you to date me, we can be just friends, or break up and still be friends, or break up and never–"
"sirius!"
"what?"
"stop talking."
"okay."
"we can date."
"what?"
"i'll give you a chance."
"oh." he stared out at the lake in shock, his mouth hanging open slightly. "oh!" he turned to look at you, and the smile that stood on his face was brighter than any star in the sky. he pressed his own hands against his cheeks, touching the as if he was trying to check if they were warm or not.
"am i turning red?"
"a little bit." you snickered, your eyes never leaving him. the relief you felt was indescribable. you'd gone out with him today, terrified of what might happen, thinking that you'll lose him forever. and then there you were, with sirius black blushing right in front of you because he was madly in love with you.
"can i uhm–" he cleared his throat, shaking his head for a moment in attempt to get out of the haze that he was stuck in, "kiss... you...?"
"yeah." you said the words in a small voice. the panic on sirius' face was pretty noticeable, and you would have probably laughed in his face to cope with awkwardness you were feeling yourself if he hadn't kissed you before you could. he hesitantly cupped your cheek with his hand, but when you let yourself relax into his touch, he was calmer too.
you pulled away from each other after a few seconds, and you could see that sirius was having hard time holding back a grin. this time you laughed in his face, he laughed at you for laughing at him, and the cycle only continued.
#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius black one shot#sirius black headcanon#sirius black imagine#sirius black drabble#sirius black smut#sirius black fluff#sirius black fanfiction#james potter#remus lupin#lily evans#mary macdonald#marlene mckinnon#peter pettigrew#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#marauders era#the marauders#requests 💜#anon asks 💗
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With You I Am Home.
AN: I took inspo from a post, but I can't find it. This is my first post. Be nice. I beg you!!!! (Sorry for any grammar mistakes. I'm in a trance)
Fluff if you Squint Crack???? DAZAI X READER Umm, I think GN reader?
You and Dazai dated for three years before breaking it off. It wasn't that you didn't love him anymore. You were fed up with his shenanigans
His constant suicidal jokes (you didn't find funny at all) and coming home reeking alcohol. You had sympathy for him. He was going threw his shit, and so were you. It's been two weeks since you broke up constant texts from Dazai 'just checking up
on you.' You weren't going to block him. He never actually did anything wrong, so it felt cold to delete his contact. You were sleeping or trying to when your phone went off. You wanted to ignore it, but it kept chiming in frustration. You got up Dazai: hey, I'm
outside. "what the fuck" you whisper to yourself. Hurrying to the door in a frenzy, you open it and are greeted by a tipsy Samu."God, you reek..." "Hmm," he mumbled some incoherent words, then threw his arm around your shoulder, trying to keep himself up straight. "Home..*hic* let me come back," Dazai muttered, not daring to look you in the eye " Samu, I- ok, just for tonight, you can have the couch..." you escorted him to the
couch, laying him down then getting up to leave he grabs your wrist and whispers."Y/n, I- don't go...stay here" you glare down at him you just wanted to pounce on him and tell him you're sorry. You love him, but your stubbornness wouldn't let you vocalize. "I-" but before you could start, he was pulling you on top of him." hey, this is- no, we aren't like this!" you tried to refute, pushing on His chest, trying to free yourself from his
Embrace. Still, he wouldn't budge. "I love you, Bella," he whispers as if you wouldn't hear. Still, subconsciously you relax into his touch and begin to sob."Samu, I'm sorry if I-" he shushes you, rubbing your back as you continue to cry 'I need you.' you whisper into his chest. "I miss this. I missed us" He doesn't reply; instead, he chuckles, "Good, 'cause I already packed my suitcase." you go silent, thinking over his weird words. You sit up straight
And look down at what was before, dazed and now alert; you furrowed your brows, analyzing him...he wasn't drunk at all; in fact, he was completely intact. "Samu, you're not drunk at all *scoff* were you pretending so I would let you in?" He avoids your eyes and pretends he's asleep " your something else..." Hmm, he chimes, "Does it really matter how I got in? At least we are together now, all
Thanks to me." you cringe at his words, rolling your eyes, walking away. "You coming?" you pause, waiting for him to follow behind, and when he does, he clings to your waist, head on your shoulder. "You knew this was gonna happen, huh ❔" you could feel him smile against your shoulder " I'm tired. Let's hurry to bed. I will admit I missed my cuddle bug." you groan at his cheesy words but can't help but smile. You missed this. You missed him. "Cause With You I'm Home"
An: God, this is so cheesy and rushed. It's only noon, and my eyes hurt, but cut me some slack. It's my first time I hope you like it reblogs are appreciated.
#dazai osamu x reader#blessings#dazai x reader#dazai x you#bsd fanfic#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x y/n
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If you are trans, how do you have an alter that isn't? (I'm asking out of ignorance and genuine curiosity, not malice. I know you haven't had the best anons lately)
Thank you for the parenthetical on that one. I didn't read it that way at all, but I appreciate someone going out of their way to specify that it's just curiosity and not someone sealioning. I also just love parentheticals in general. Feel free to ask more, or DM me! I'm happy to go into more depth.
The answer is quite simple: I'm just gonna force femme him, duh. (Okay, no, not really)
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A warning upfront: This post is likely going to be written by multiple alters. Expect sudden shifts in tone, as well as shifts between first - and third-person perspectives. It's also gonna be a lot of rambling. I'm going to fucking hate it tbh. But I'm also more than happy to elaborate on specifics. The joys of having conflicting opinions on a single topic.
For context, this ask is in reply to this previous post I made about DID, how I feel names relate to it, and how i feel my experience differs from other peoples. In it, I mention that not all of my alters are trans.
It just feels... cringe. Like, I know that is probably certainly internalized ablism. But any time I discuss my own internal thought processes and the fact that there are just straight up other versions of me in there, I can't help but think I feel like one of those really awkwardly written teenagers in media who like... pretend to be possessed by demons and stuff. Part of it is also a little bit of fear.
That was... a bit of an oversimplification. It is rather difficult to go into detail, especially when the alter in question is the one who least likes talking about the experience of being plural.
While I don't talk about it with others, and will absolutely interrupt any attempts to map it out, I AM at least somewhat aware of how my system is shaped and who is in it. And that not everyone who used to be in it is still in there. There are versions of myself that are just... gone. And I know one of the things that results in that is too much internal reflection. So I just... don't.
Am I trans? I mean, Ceetee is, and I'm Ceetee, so probably. But I'm also the one who doesn't have that luxury. I'm the one who has to go to work. I'm the one who has to go by He/Him pronouns. I'm the one who answers when someone calls our deadname. And that is too important a part to risk losing to introspection, and the effect that has on us.
We are on HRT, the body we are in is going to change. We are looking forward to potentially going under the knife in the future. Lipofilly, vaginoplasty, etc. That's going to complicated things. I genuinely don't even know if I will still exist after that. I have plans on how to handle our social transition, that might make it smoother, but... again, I don't have the privilege of thinking on it too much.
Its... really difficult to write this out honestly. All of our discussion happens internally, thanks to us losing our amnesiac barrier a few years ago (thank God for that. Huge increase to our quality of life.) We would probably benefit from just making a discord server for just us, and using pluralkit or the like to talk with each other. But the idea of differentiating each other externally is HORRIFYING.
So instead, I'm the one handling our HRT. I have to, because he isn't willing to for the reasons mentioned above. And I can't even really discuss it well because he gets in the way a lot. Which I don't fault him for, it's his job, it's literally why he exists, and the several years I went with him not being involved socially were... extremely rough. I genuinely feel privileged to have him taking the brunt of all that for me. The nice thing about DID is it's actually a GREAT way to delegate tasks. If he represents the parts of us that don't have the privilege of changing, I can represent the parts of us that can.
But the truth is, all of us in here are undergoing an HRT we don't actually WANT. It gets us closer to a more comfortable body to live in, but it will never be possible to achieve a body ALL of us are happy with. We all have different gender goals, and as long as we are all stuck in the same body, there is no such thing as 'Gender affirmation'. That's why I use the label Aegogender. Looking it up, there is... not a lot of description of it. But for me, it has a very clear interaction with dissociative disorders.
I'm not genderless. Every single one of us in here has a gender. And they are not all the same. Which means our system cannot have a single gender. ANY transition will, by definition, go against the goals of others in the system. There is no way for all of us to be happy in this body, as long as we all have to share a single body. My "true" ideal body, would be an incorporeal hivemind piloting 3 or 4 bodies. Leaving us all connected to each other, but with our own individuality.
This is, obviously, NOT POSSIBLE. So HRT is the compromise.
Every single one of us is trans, even the one still going by He/Him and using our deadname. And so, just becoming something DIFFERENT is good enough for now. No solution has to be perfect forever. If we need to do something different in the future, we can just do something different in the future! We don't NEED to figure all of this out now.
I mentioned in the tags of my detransition post that I have a lot more complicated feelings about detransition. This is why. I fundamentally identify more with the concept of being a creature capable of change, than I do with any single gender.
Which means... once I transition, I'll almost certainly end up transitioning again. From what to what? I have NO IDEA. Will I end up detransitioning? Maybe. Will I end up pursuing some completely different presentation? Maybe. I dont know. I'm not that person yet.
I'm just gonna have to wait and see who manages to last that long, and what is best for all of us.
#this got EXTREMELY personal and intimate#which isnt to say dont read it#im happy to be an open book#this shit is COMPLICATED and even a single person seeing themselves in this and feeling seen makes it worth the effort to write#so... thank you for the chance to talk about this anon#i kinda thought i would keep it bottled up for a lot longer#and tbh i am still keeping some of the detrans gender feels bottled#but... ah well. what can ya do?#text essay#gender#plurality#detransition
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Alright I'm posting my writing. It is cringe, but it is my cringe. You have been warned.
Drip the InkWraith had been flying for ages it seems. Every bone in his body was just trying to move as fast as possible, with little thought other than that he had to escape. Drip didn’t need to look back to see what was happening. Everything was still engraved in his mind. He could still hear the screams, still see the Skels, killing what was left of his species, despite how far away he’s already flown away from his home…. Or what used to be.. He was the only one to escape.
Drip didn’t have time to process everything now, as it was getting dark and he knew he had to at least find somewhere to hide. His bright, paint-covered wings would be sure to draw unwanted attention. He decided to land in a forest, not ideal, but it was dark, so he could hide, and every fiber in him was exhausted. Drip sat down, leaning against a tree, His wings and ears drooping from exhaustion.
Drip laid against the tree, about to close his eyes when suddenly he heard a crack. Despite being tired and in pain, he jumped to his feet in a panic. He slowly turned toward where the sound came from, trying not to make too much noise. The paint on his wings started changing to the color of his surroundings, a defense mechanism InkWraiths had when threatened. Drip slowly looked up to see a pair of deep green eyes that looked exactly like his, staring right at him.
The shadowy, cloaked figure stared at Drip, not moving in the slightest. Drip blinked and suddenly, the figure was gone. Confused, he looks around, the shadow figure nowhere to be found. Drip lets out a sigh of exhaustion. Was that even real, Drip thought to himself, or am I just that tired? Maybe it was just a hallucination. Drip leans back onto the tree, still standing, just to be safe.
After a few minutes, Drip started to slowly slide back down the tree, when suddenly he got knocked forward and thrown onto the ground. He quickly rolled onto his back to face what hit him and suddenly the shadow figure was looking down at him, this time growling aggressively. At that moment Drip could tell what the shadow was. She was a Skel, a female, as he could tell by the thin tail. She also didn't seem to have wings, like most Skels do.
Drip’s eyes went wide with terror as he looked up at the Skel. He tried to sit back up, but the Skel pinned him to the ground with her foot right on his chest. He started to flap his wings, trying to break free. This didn't do much, as he was already weak and exhausted. The Skel growled in annoyance and pressed her foot harder into Drip's chest, making it harder for him to breathe. Drip could feel himself losing strength as she did this. Desperate to escape, he tries to kick the Skel off of him. The Skel still held Drip firmly to the ground, adding more pressure onto him, making it painful and nearly impossible to breathe. I'm going to die here, Drip thought in terror, as black dots started to fill his vision. The last thing he saw was The Skel pulling out a stinger from her tail and getting ready to stab him, before everything slowly went black.
BlackIce the Skel had just gotten out of reach of the other Skels, who tried to execute her for her refusal to kill the InkWraiths. She could still remember being pinned down by their leader and having her wings chopped off. She could still feel pain and tingling where there were wings, at times, as if they were still there. She shivered at the very thought of that memory. The only thing on BlackIce’s mind now was to hide and hope nobody would find her.
BlackIce found a dark forest, perfect for hiding in. With her black cloak and the shadows from the trees, she was sure to be invisible. BlackIce ran quietly into the woods with her hood up to remain unseen. When she ran deep enough into the woods, she started to walk around, looking for a place to rest. After a few minutes of walking around, BlackIce found a sturdy tree that she could climb in and hide. She climbed onto a branch and leaned up against the trunk, her tail wrapped around the branch.
Closing her eyes, BlackIce was ready to fall asleep when suddenly she heard something crash nearby. Jolting back awake and quickly turned to see what happened. BlackIce looked down below her to see an InkWraith, seemingly exhausted and shaken, resting against a tree. She quietly observed the InkWraith, watching him slowly start to close his eyes. I thought the Skels killed all of these guys, BlackIce thought, as she watched the InkWraith fall asleep.
After a few minutes watching the InkWraith fall asleep, BlackIce decided to slowly climb down from the tree to investigate. She slowly approached the InkWraith, trying to remain as quiet as possible. As she slowly walked towards him, she stepped on a branch. The InkWraith immediately jumped to his feet and turned towards BlackIce. BlackIce remained as still as possible, hoping the InkWraith wouldn't try to attack her. Instead, he just stared at her for a minute before she decided to run away, remaining unseen. BlackIce snuck back behind him and got an idea. An awful idea.
I could kill him pretty easily, BlackIce thought quietly. Maybe the other Skels will accept me back if I do. He’s only an inch or two taller than me and already weak. BlackIce watched the InkWraith lean back up against the tree he was resting on. This is probably the only chance I'll get before he flies away. BlackIce prepares herself.
Before the InkWraith could sit back down, BlackIce launched herself at him, knocking him forward. Before he could get up, BlackIce pinned him to the ground with her foot, right on the weak point on his chest, if she remembers her training correctly. The InkWraith flapped his wings wildly, trying to escape, but all that did was annoy BlackIce. Baring her teeth at him and growling, she pressed her foot harder into his chest. She could feel him getting weaker and struggling less when she did this. I'mThe InkWraith tried to kick her off of him, but he was getting weaker with each passing second. BlackIce looked deeply into his frightened eyes as she pressed into his chest more. “Please….let…go…” The InkWraith whimpered, in both pain and fear. BlackIce could see tears forming in his eyes as they started to close. She pulled out her tail stinger. This will end it quickly, she thought as she was ready to stab him.
BlackIce looked down at the now unconscious InkWraith as she was about to stab him. She noticed how sad he looked, even unconscious. Did she really want this? We're the other Skels really going to accept her back after this? What if they didn't, and she just ended this InkWraith’s life for nothing? BlackIce sighed and lifted her foot off of him. Poor guy, she thought as she looked down at his body.
Curious, BlackIce observed the InkWraith as he lay there even if he's dead. She had never been this close to one before. She looked at the paint-like substance that covered his wings. The paint was gray at this point. Is this the color they turn when they die? BlackIce wonders. She then approached his head. She reached and touched one of his ears, which were surprisingly squishy. BlackIce held the squishy ear and suddenly, it twitched. BlackIce jumped back in surprise. The InkWraith's wings also changed to the color of the forest again, deep greens and browns. He suddenly gasped for air and his eyes shot open. He wasn't dead, and there was nowhere for BlackIce to hide now.
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