#really i've put off my responsibilities long enough
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equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)
a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!
if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!
anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE
“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”
“That’s the problem!”
He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.
“You don’t understand me anymore!”
“Understand you?”
Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.
“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”
Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.
“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”
There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.
“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”
Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.
“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”
You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.
You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.
Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.
You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.
“Commando’s. How can I help you?”
The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.
“Hello?”
It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.
“Bucky?”
“Peanut?”
“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."
"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"
You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.
"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"
Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.
"I'm okay?"
Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"
You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.
On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.
On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.
“Peanut? Come on back to me."
“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.
“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”
“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”
No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.
“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”
You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.
“There she is.”
The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.
“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”
"Don't diners always serve coffee?"
"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."
"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.
Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.
And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.
You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.
"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"
An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.
"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.
A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.
He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.
Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.
"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"
A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.
"Yeah, thought as much."
"It's just all becoming too much, I think."
An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.
“Who's your friend, Jamie?"
Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.
"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."
Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.
"She's also my mother."
“Oh!"
He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.
“Your mother?”
Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.
“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”
There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.
"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.
"Sorry, just took me by surprise."
"Clearly."
Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.
"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"
Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.
"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"
You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.
"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."
Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.
"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."
You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.
"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"
"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"
"I want you to be you."
"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."
"I can't do that."
Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.
"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"
"No."
"Why?"
"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."
"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"
"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."
Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.
To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.
"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."
A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.
Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.
However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.
"I just want you to be happy."
"Do you think you could make me happy?"
"Absolutely."
You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.
"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."
"Will you be home for family dinner?"
"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"
Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.
"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"
"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."
"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"
You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.
"You just gestured to all of me."
You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.
"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"
Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.
"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."
"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."
Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"
He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.
"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"
You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.
"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."
You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.
You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.
"You ready?"
This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.
"Hold on tight, spider monkey."
You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.
City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.
His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.
Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.
"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.
The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere fun!"
He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.
Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.
He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.
"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."
You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.
"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."
He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.
As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."
You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.
You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.
On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.
"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.
Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.
A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.
"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"
"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.
"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."
You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.
"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.
As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.
You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.
His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.
It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.
"Why bartending?"
The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.
"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.
You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.
"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.
Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.
"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"
It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.
"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.
Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.
“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.
“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”
You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.
“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”
Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.
Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.
You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.
“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”
The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.
“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”
“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.
“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.
A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”
Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.
“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”
Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.
“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”
Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.
“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“
Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.
“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”
It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.
“And who the fuck is this?”
“I’m the guy.”
He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.
“What guy?”
“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”
The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.
“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”
He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.
“Apologize, Johnny boy.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.
“Thank you.”
Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.
“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”
He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.
“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”
“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.
“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”
You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.
“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”
You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.
If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.
The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.
“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”
He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.
“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”
You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.
“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”
He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.
You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.
“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.
Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?
“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”
His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.
“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”
A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.
You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.
Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.
Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.
You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.
You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?
You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.
It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.
With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.
#bartender!bucky x reader#bucky x reader#sebastian stan#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bartender!bucky x peanut!reader#bucky x peanut#consequences#ray's writing#bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes au#bartender!bucky#bartender!bucky barnes x you#bartender!bucky barnes x y/n#bartender!bucky x you
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Watcher Update Debrief
I am several days late on posting my full thoughts on Watcher's update regarding their streamer, because each day when I come home from work I feel too tired to do so (and I can't post while I'm at work because my work computer prohibits access to tumblr due to it being a "video streaming website" -- yes, you may laugh). Truth be told, I'm still too tired to do so, but each day that goes by this gets less and less relevant, and after posting so much about the situation over the weekend I don't want to just not post anything about the update video, because I feel I have to give some closure on this. So without further ado, here is that closure. This is going to be pretty long as well (hence not wanting to post it on my cell phone at work), so once again I'm going to put this under a cut to spare everyone's dashboards.
First, I want to address the actions they've announced they're taking regarding the backlash they've received in regards to the streamer, setting aside the actual content of the video itself. (Because there is a lot to dissect in the video itself, both in what they say and how they present what they say, and I want to give full attention to that.)
When Watcher announced the streamer last Friday, they said that they would be virtually quitting YouTube altogether. All they would post on YouTube in the future would be the premiers of each new show, while the seasons themselves would only be released on the streamer, which would require a subscription for the annual price of $60, or the monthly price of $6 (which would total $72 for the year). This of course was only factoring rates for United States residents; the prices would be higher for those internationally. It's also not getting into how the original plan was also to pull all older seasons off YouTube, as evidenced by what the company told Variety, before Ryan backtracked it in response to the initial backlash.
However, in the update, the Watcher team reveals that they are backtracking as much as they can with regards to the streamer. While they are still going to have the streamer for the prices listed, they are going to still upload new seasons of their shows to YouTube, albeit one month later than the shows premier on the streamer. For people who have already subscribed who wouldn't have had they known this was going to happen, they can ask for a refund and they will receive it. Additionally, patrons of the Watcher Patreon will now receive access to the streamer for free, and can also reach out to Watcher for a refund if they've already subscribed to the streamer.
In my opinion, this is the best case scenario. I know there are some people out there who are upset that they haven't canceled the streamer entirely, but for reasons I've spoken about in other posts / comments, I really don't think it's possible. When I wrote my initial debrief post, I thought that they had built their streamer from the ground up, because that was how they made it sound in their initial announcement video. It has since come to light that they're using Vimeo's OTT service. But here is the thing about Vimeo's OTT service: it is not free. And while there is a standard plan that allows a customer to pay $1 per subscriber, the much more likely plan that a company like Watcher is going to use is the Enterprise plan, which would require a contract.
Here are the details of the Enterprise plan:
The expanded bandwidth, upload hours, and 1080p HD streaming are reason enough for Watcher to go with the Enterprise plan over the Standard plan, but any company with half a brain cell would want a dedicated support team in case something happens to go wrong with the streamer at any point. The Standard plan is for individuals who want to get into hosting streaming websites for the first time; the Enterprise plan (as the name suggests) is for companies who want to do so, and Watcher is company.
You'll notice, though, that the Enterprise plan works by a monthly or yearly subscription, and that there is no flat rate available. This means that Watcher would have already negotiated a price, and likely has already paid at least some, if not all money up front (assuming they went yearly instead of monthly, and as Watcher's own plan shows, you normally get discounts for annual plans over monthly ones). What this means is that Watcher has absolutely already put money into the streamer, and that they are in a contract they likely cannot break without incurring more fees / losing money they have spent. So at least for the time being, the streamer has to exist. They can't simply walk away from it completely like some people still want them to.
So with that in mind, deciding to release the new seasons for free a month later on YouTube is the best possible outcome. They're still keeping the streamer for those who have and want to be subscribed to it. Releasing content early on a paid platform (such as, and I am just spitballing wildly here, Patreon) is a practice that many YouTubers have engaged in for a long while now. And I would guess the month delay is because they still really, really want to lure people to the streamer. Depending on how much money they put into that Vimeo OTT contract (and I really have no way of knowing how much money that was), I can understand why. Even so, it is a surprise to me that they are willing to compromise with the fans at all. I really was not expecting them to walk back any part of the decision. So this really is the best possible outcome any of us could have hoped for, in regards to specific actions regarding the decision they made before. The future of Watcher doesn't look as bleak now as it did on Friday.
With that said, let's address the content of the video itself.
Setting aside the "three ex-Buzzfeed employees on a couch" meme quality of the video (especially since the Try Guys on the couch hadn't done anything wrong themselves, whereas the Watcher guys did), here are the specific things I want to address:
1.) They centered Shane in the update video. I believe this was deliberate.
Over the weekend, huge swaths of the fandom blamed Ryan and especially Steven while exonerating Shane. At best, they just ignored Shane. At worst, they insisted that he was secretly against the idea all along and that the other two (especially Steven) had forced him into it / outvoted him. Setting aside the implicit racism in all of this (because although the fandom has had a very hard time admitting it, you don't find the men of color inherently untrustworthy / unlikable / unrelatable and the white man inherently relatable / trustworthy / likable without implicit biases, you just don't), it's unreasonable to think they didn't notice with the flood of hateful comments flooding Steven's and Ryan's socials while Shane got less heat. Not no heat, mind, but considerably less when compared with the other two.
So upon noticing that, they centered Shane -- who was still the most liked by the fandom, the one still seen as a "comrade" by a huge number of the fandom -- in the middle of the couch, to draw the eye, to play to the audience subconscious. The sight of Steven (and to a lesser extent Ryan) makes you angry? Put them to the side, put Shane in the middle. Let his white face calm you down. It absolutely sucks ass that this was needed, but again, there were both explicit racist comments and implicit racism at play all over the place this past weekend. It was disgusting, I'm sure they noticed, and they staged themselves on that couch accordingly.
(And it was staged, as well, because on the podcast they've talked about how Ryan often likes sitting in the center and Shane (and Steven) prefer sitting off to the sides. And in the first video we see this; Ryan is in the middle, with Steven and Shane are on either side of him. But in this one, it's switched. Wonder why? This is why.)
2.) They acknowledge that they messed up, and they apologize.
Now, their bad business decision is their bad business decision. If they wanted to tank their company by moving completely to a paywalled streamer that doesn't have nearly enough content to appease less than the most diehard of fans, much less appeal to potential new customers, that's on them. But in their announcement video, they were obtuse about the financial situations of many of their fans; they were patronizing, they were arrogant . . . they messed up. They messed up, and they say it plainly, and they apologize.
This is the most basic, the lowest of bars to clear. But many YouTubers fail to clear it. It's refreshing to see that they haven't. Personally, I have respect for people who can own their mistakes, apologize, and then resolve to do better in the future. We are all human; we are all going to fuck up at some time or another. The important thing is to acknowledge when we do, apologize for it, and then try not to do it again in the future. The fact that these three acknowledged that they fucked up, apologized for it, and then outlined the actions they're taking to fix the wrong actions they took above are all good things in my eyes.
(On that note, I also appreciate that they specifically address what hurtful things they said, and explain why those things are hurtful. They acknowledge that they blew off all the fans that couldn't afford the streamer, as well as the fans who have supported them via merch sales, Patreon subscriptions, live shows, et cetera for all these years. They acknowledge the comment about "a price anyone and everyone can afford" was insensitive and wrong. Anyone can say "I'm sorry" and have it be meaningless if they don't know why they should be sorry. The Watcher team clearly did listen to the feedback and understands what they did wrong. I appreciate that.)
3.) The one thing in the video I did not appreciate and that I think was a misstep was the part where Ryan tried to once again explain why they thought the streamer was a good idea.
We heard them explain in the announcement video that they need money from the streamer, and that they have a hard time reconciling their content with ads. The problem they face is this: if the audience didn't buy that then, they are not going to buy that now when they've had an entire weekend to be upset. And not only have they had an entire weekend to be upset, but we've also had at least one YouTuber who owns a company that connects YouTubers to advertisers lay out exactly how much money Watcher should be making from their channel and how friendly their channel is to advertisers, so the claims make even less sense now than they did before. Attempting to insist that, "we really do need the streamer money though" is doing little to convince those of us who didn't already believe that. You can say, "we would lose the company if we didn't do it" until you're blue in the face, but you really are wasting that breath.
More importantly, though . . . an apology is not the time for justifications. This video was meant to apologize for your wrongs to your community and announce the actions you are taking moving forward to right those wrongs. Which, to be fair, is what Watcher did. What the video was not for was to say, "But we were right to introduce the streamer because . . ." No one in your audience wants to hear that. Even if it made financial sense (which it did not), this is not the time or place for that, especially when what you are saying now is what you already said in the announcement video. It feels defensive at best. It's simply not the best move. It's not the time or place.
Which is not to say that nothing else should have been addressed here beyond an apology. Had they read a chunk of the fandom the riot act for the racism and other out of pocket comments (e.g. apparently people were posting on Ryan's wedding photos on IG that Mari would leave him when she realized how selfish and greedy he was), I would have supported them in that. Alas, twas not to be.
All in all, my final judgment on the whole situation is this: the response video is the best possible outcome any fans could have hoped for. I will remain subscribed to their YouTube channel, because I am an adult with a full time job and a life and so I don't mind watching the videos a month later if it means watching them for free. I accept the apology that the Watcher team has given, and I appreciate the fact that they got someone with actual public relations experience to assist them in writing and presentation (because they very clearly have a PR person assisting them now -- that was not a Watcher original production).
But just because I accept the apology doesn't mean that I have forgotten, or will forget, what has transpired. I have known for awhile now that Watcher Entertainment is not the tiny underdog they pretend to be. After all, they got DISNEY to sponsor them for an episode of Ghost Files. (The Haunted Mansion episode, to be specific.) When you have Mickelous Fucking Mouse himself opening his checkbook to cut you some cheddar for advertising, you have hit the big time. You can no longer claim to be a small, pitiable underdog at that point. Previously, I was happy for them that they were hitting the big time. I remember messaging a good friend of mine so excited that they were getting paid by The Mouse. After this debacle, though? Seeing them pretend to be starving to death while still getting cut checks by huge corporations for ad revenue? That sweet taste has turned rather bitter, especially when their merch -- multiple items of which I have purchased -- is so overpriced as well. (I paid over $80 for that Mystery Files jacket. It's just a regular denim jacket with the logos stenciled on . . . I was glad to support them and to have a jacket featured on the show, but now . . . smh.)
All of this is to say: I will still watch their shows for free on YouTube. I'll listen to their podcast when I need background noise. But I'll never again buy a piece of merch. And I'll regard them as I do the owners of any other company: businessmen who are, at the end of the day, there to make money. They are company owners, they are actors, and they are nothing more than that. And that's fine. They don't have to be.
That's where I stand, anyway. Everyone else is free to reach their own conclusions on the matter.
#don't bother trying to argue that ''people weren't racist''#or ''it was ok to be vile to Steven bc [reasons ppl dug up to justify their racism]'' or i'll just block you tho#watcher#watcher entertainment#shane madej#steven lim#ryan bergara
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finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using
#feels so selfish like. all this skin what am i saving it for?#open to design suggestions! (please make me regret this offer)#maybe some deep sea horrors. a pretty watercolor of a gulper eel#once saw a person on the subway with various Skeleton Tattoos on all their limbs#i respected their commitment to the theme#but more than that i respected how all the skeletons were engaged in Activities#dancing in a ballgown. juggling its own (and two other???) skulls. swordfighting. being a mermaid skeleton#ANYWAY. the only reason i haven't already gotten tattoos is i just couldn't be bothered#i'm old enough to know i don't have any strong-but-potentially-temporary feelings driving me towards it#aesthetically i prefer decorated to non-decorated surfaces. but i'm not artistic or thrilled with commitment#honestly it feels like sheer laziness. indecisiveness--nay. immaturity!--that i HAVEN'T gotten a tattoo yet#letting all this blank canvas go to waste. tut tut i need to grow up and be an adult and get a tattoo sleeve already.#really i've put off my responsibilities long enough#(in fairness i DID at one time have 18 different piercings)#(but i took most of them out bc they interfere with wearing headphones and/or shoving my face in my pillow during Sleep Time)#(i only kept the nape piercing bc oddly enough it ended up being the most convenient. and the least painful to get now i think about it.)#(neck piercing? no problem. normal pair of earrings? Tribulations And Suffering. i don't make the rules i just poke them with a stick.)
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Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.
Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen
A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death
#hellsing#alucard#kouta hirano#translation was found in a comment by u/lazyfoxheart on r/Kurrent#fun fact this is the highest quality version of this image that exists online#i know because i've been looking forever for a version that's clear enough to actually read what hirano wrote under '1443'#but there weren't any so i had to take matters into my own hands#the real image on the back of the guidebook is only 2 inches tall so i had to take this with my smartphone and will my hands not to shake#anyway i'm pretty sure it's supposed to say Eğrigöz (the location vlad was imprisoned) so yeah. thank you hirano very cool#if i might rant for a sec it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out because i didn't have the guidebook at first#and in the images i could find online that part was just a blur that looked suspiciously like a person's signature and i was like. who tf#i was thinking matthias corvinus since he issued some political propaganda against vlad iirc but it didn't match his signature on wikipedia#then i thought it might be vlad II dracul's since he probably had to sign an agreement to send his sons over as hostages at some point#but that didnt seem right either so i kept skimming vlad's wiki page#and then i was like goddammit...hirano.....you just misspelled Eğrigöz didn't you.. ....#i maybe should've made a separate post dedicated to this instead of writing a novel in the tags but eh#the hellsing brainrot runs deep#also- i put it in the source link at the bottom of the post but the german inscription is copied off a real woodcut of vlad from 1491#except instead of depicting him as an adult hirano drew him as a child which gives the inscription a very different feel imo#the one final thing that interests me about this is the fact that hirano published this calendar in 2002#which is REALLY early in the series. like this was before volume 5 came out??#i have no idea why he decided to do a massive spoiler drop in a random piece of japan-only merch#sandwiched between a drawing of alucard as john travolta from saturday night fever and integra as a fish no less#it makes me really curious to know what the fan response to this was back then. like did people even know who this was#maybe im just an idiot and everyone back then was like 'ah yes its alucard as a 12 year old. how very informative'
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2024 year of charlie gets a fucking break (hopefully. maybe. tbd.)
#ctxt#i'm on medication that's reduced my post-hysterectomy pain by about 70%#i have an intake appointment with a physical therapist in march & a referral to start trigger point injections#to hopefully finally recover as completely as possible from the nightmarish neuropathy that's plagued me since uuuhhhh#going on 2 years ago. holy shit. genuinely can't believe i've been surviving & functioning as well as i have for this long#while suffering a disabling & extremely painful surgical complication. fuck my original surgeon for brushing me off during that time#but the new provider i'm working with is so responsive & thorough in her approach & seems genuinely committed#to helping me finally get relief after all this time. she listens to my feedback & is flexible in her approach#and her assistant is a great communicator who's been handling most of the logistics of care coordination for me#and what a huge fucking relief that is. to not have to drag my doctors kicking & screaming towards maybe treating me eventually#i wanna cry. i finally feel like i'm being taken seriously and cared for. and i'm not BETTER yet (might never be the same as i was pre-op)#but i actually feel optimistic for the first time in over a year that i won't just have to deal with this agonizing pain on my own forever#i might actually see enough improvement that i can start to get back to living my life instead of just surviving it#money is tighter than it's been since i got laid off during early pandemic and that's stressing me out#but i promised myself that i would put my health first in 2024 and that means only working the bare minimum needed to pay my bills for now#genuinely i so fucking needed a break. i felt like i was trying to swim through a meat grinder last year#and it wasn't until i ended up in the ER about it that i finally was able to take my own pain seriously enough#to put my foot down & make some necessary changes that are now letting me focus on Getting Well With Myself at last#in hindsight it's like. really freaking me out how thoroughly i was able to compartmentalize & dissociate from how miserable i was#bc nobody who had the ability to help me would take me seriously & my shitty boss was like. extremely textbook emotionally abusive#and on one hand that was a survival mechanism that kept me on my feet during one of the worst times of my life. so props to myself there#but it was also very maladaptive how long & unnecessarily it went on before i snapped out of it & escalated things for my own safety#it was the same helpless frustration i often felt as a kid of like 'well nobody is on my side but me so i gotta suck it up & help myself'#and i think the family trauma shit that was going on last year definitely contributed to that. idk sense of doubling across time?#and things had to get Extremely Bad before they were bad enough for me to realize that although i felt like it#i am no longer an isolated & parentified island of a child who is beholden to the whims of ignorant & indifferent adults#i actually can and should take action to advocate for myself bc i am an adult and i CAN now change my circumstances as needed#instead of just enduring them as if i'm stuck there with no agency or chance to change things#and i have a really solid support system who helped me feel like it was possible to stand up for myself to get the help i desperately need#chronic blogging
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I'm talking way past way too much these past 24 hours. Am I starved for social interaction? Probably
#the why behind it is a lot to get into#already have 1 and 1/2 times today#idk#sometimes i wanna talk to my friends and tell them all the stuff i like about them and make jokes#but when i keep things short and sweet i still haven't had my fill#and when i talk as long as i like (and that's if they'll even give me the chance to talk that much) it feels like I should've just left-#well enough alone and I'll misspeak and now I've upset someone i care about#and then they'll likely want to talk to me less and less#and they'll want to talk to me less if I'm short and withhold my full thoughts#people find that cold and off-putting#i don't really know what the fuck to do#if i don't over explain stuff then I'm misread#either that or they just won't care anymore and just want me to shut up#if i talk too much i freak people out and they run away#or get freaked out that i have so many feelings or thoughts about them so early in the relationship#it would help if anyone i ever have had a friendship with would reach out to talk to me consistently/ at all#or do i seek people out who lean towards disinterest when it comes to me as some kind of trauma response#and if so#does that make this my issue to fix?#am i doing something wrong? is that why people don't want to talk to me?#i try to hard to be pleasant and warm but it never seems to come across that way or be appreciated or acknowledged#so*#am i trying too hard? is that even a thing? society tells you that if you want something you don't have#you have to put forth the effort to obtain it#so what's wrong with putting in the effort with friends?#what's the fucking issue with me?#i always seem to end up getting on everyone's nerves and i always get fussed at even I'm trying my absolute hardest to be friendly and kind#now I'm actually crying#i so often feel like I'm some kind of freak or alien entity placed in human society as some kind of experiment#i so often feel that i don't belong here
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#tag talk#making progress in therapy because I finally got annoyed enough to go on a twenty minute monologuing about how#I'm tired of getting projected onto and put in these cute little “here's how to manage your anxiety” boxes#yeah body scanning is cool I learned that seven years ago when I was having panic attacks and now I don't have them anymore#actually when I'm anxious focusing on all my five senses makes me even more overstimulated so I close my eyes and don't focus on what I hear#yes I already know how anxiety works and at this point I'm past the emotional fear response and it's now just an overloaded cpu problem#hey hey hey fucking listen to me yeah the circle of control is cute but when people are stupid enough I actually Can control them#I tried to tell her politely that I've already graduated from psych 101 basic bitch mental illness school for freaks.#but she didn't really get it so I stewed for half an hour while she talked about bullshit and then I kinda went off about it#like. hey I'm not incapable of holding relationships long term because I'm afraid of them it's because I'm a freak who doesn't belong.#I'm not afraid of other people. if anything people are afraid of Me. and yes that does make me afraid of social rejection as a whole#but can we please move past kindergarten levels of self understanding and move on to something useful?#yeah yeah yeah you all keep on being like “hmm let's address your depression” I'm so fucking tired of getting told coping methods#how many more snide comments about suicide hotlines do I need to make before you get the hint that I don't just need a hug.#anyway I'm gonna make a list of things I want to talk about and problems I want to address and email it to her and hopefully that helps
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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED
Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.
It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:
As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.
If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.
No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).
Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.
There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.
For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.
The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.
Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.
If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.
Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.
Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.
People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.
Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.
Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.
It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.
The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.
I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.
I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.
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Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.
Thanks!
It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!
I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)
Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.)
You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.
Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.
Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.
I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.
Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.
Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)
I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.
For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!
Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.
I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.
I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.
I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread.
I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)
Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.
Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.
The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.
You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.
Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)
Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.
For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.
And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.
Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.
Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.
To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.
In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.
Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!
If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.
(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)
Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.
Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!
Edit: Video finished!
youtube
And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.
#ask#buttonholes#sewing#hand sewing#sewing tutorial#I've been procrastinating on the video this week#I want it done! I don't want to work on it I want new projects! I want to cut out more gloves!#currently forcing myself to do the last few buttonholes on these pants and then maybe I can cut out new gloves? as a treat?#but I hope I get some filming done tomorrow too
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Untitled #9
Wordcount — 1,618 words
Includes — Fem!reader, mentions of contraceptives, unprotected vaginal sex. Dubcon elements (but it is all explained in detail), mentions/fantasies of creampies, use of petnames (baby).
Author's note — Just a little something! I've had this thought for a while now, and I wanted to put it out there. Despite the dubcon elements of it, I really picture both parties being super into it with full consent —for this, the male character just puts up a fight because he considers things risky, but deep down he wants it just as bad. With that in mind, read this if you have no problem whatsoever with some dubcon. If it's not your cup of tea, just scroll!
Just thinking about a forced creampie with Chan.
He had been pretty vocal about how badly he wants to fuck you raw and come inside you, but the overly-reasonable, almost persecutory part of him doesn't let him get loose. Whenever he thinks about coming inside of you, he can't help but also overthink everything that could go wrong.
“Maybe I just need a little push, you know?” He told you right after you asked him what was stopping him from fulfilling his fantasies. “I tend to get too into my head, maybe I should just- I don't know, go for it in the heat of the moment”.
But even in the heat of the moment, Chan holds back. The amount of self-control he has is crazy, so as much as he wishes to get loose, he never manages to do so on his own.
You come up with a plan, but you first make sure that he is on the same page as you —that he wants this just as much as you. So you ask him just that, and the response you get is enough for you to proceed.
“I think about it at least twice a day,” Chan confessed. “I mean, not a day goes by without me thinking about how pretty your pussy would look leaking with my cum”.
So you start off slow —first, you convince him to fuck you without a condom, fully raw. He pulls out every fucking time, much against his lust's will, but you don't mind. At least not when you can now feel every inch of him, every thickness of his veins and the warmth of his bulge. And now, he gets to feel you too —like fully feel you. From your soft walls squeezing his dick, to the sticky arousal that drips out of you.
It doesn't take long for him to get addicted to that feeling, though —despite him “wanting to take things slow”, he soon becomes obsessed and the idea of using a condom ever again is discarded by Chan himself.
So it all starts off with fucking you raw, and it eventually ends up one night with you offering that much needed push to finally allow himself go.
You're on top of him, straddling his lap while his cock reaches the deepest spots inside your pussy. You can feel him twitching inside of you, and if that isn't enough confirmation that he is seconds away from coming, the grimaces of pain and pleasure along with the veins popping on his temple and neck definitely are.
His hands are bruising your hips pretty bad while he guides your movements on top of him —roughly grinding yourself against him, squeezing your walls to provide him with the stimulation he needs to come.
“Just like that,” he groans biting down his lower lip with furrowed eyebrows and eyes closed shut, “come on, fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Make me come”.
Coincidentally, you're trying to do just that. So when he bents his legs against the mattress, and his hands try to push your body away from his, you don't stop.
“Baby,” he groans out your name, whincing in pain the longer he tries to hold his orgasm back, “'m gonna- fuck, I'm close”.
You lean down over his body, placing chaste kisses along his jaw and neck, “give it to me, Chan”.
He squeezes his eyes shut, just as his body stiffens underneath yours, “move, baby”.
“Inside,” you whimper, shaking your head into the crook of his neck. “Come inside”.
Chan's back arches a little, just as he struggles to maneuver your body, but it's all useless —he doesn't have the strength to push you away, and he doesn't want to.
“No, baby,” Chan hisses, gripping your hips as rough as he can. “I can't- please, let me pull out”.
“Come on, Chan,” you plead into his ear, biting his earlobe while your walls clench around his girth, “I know you want to”.
He lets out a painful, exasperated groan in an attempt to hold back the pent up tension between his legs —you can see he is really trying his best not to come.
“Please,” you leave one last wet kiss on his neck before straightening up your body, going from grinding against his cock to fully bouncing on it, “please, come inside me. I need it”.
Chan swears he is going to lose his mind. Between the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the sight of your pretty body bouncing on top of his, and the lewd words and moans that are leaving your lips, Chan is sure he isn't going to last any longer.
“Let me pull out,” he tells you once again, with no intention of ever wanting you to stop. At this point, Chan still puts up a fight because he doesn't want to give in too easily. But honestly, he is not interested in winning that fight whatsoever, “'m gonna come, baby”.
You press your hands against his chest and increase the pace of your movements, forcing his body underneath yours while caging it with your legs on each side of his body.
His face is flushed, and the painful grimaces and groans he lets out can only warn you that he might not resist any longer.
“Come for me,” you insist, digging your nails on the flesh of his chest, “please, fill me up”.
At one point, he just gives in to his dirtiest fantasies and carnal pleasures. Who is he to deny himself? You're begging for something that only he can give you, and he fucking will.
So the painful moans turn into primal ones, instictual and animalistic. He opens his eyes and stare at you, his hands going from your hips to your neck, choking you ever so slightly as you ride him to his high.
Not only that, but his hips start fucking into yours from underneath —if he is going to come inside you, he is going to have it his way. Meaning he is going to be the one in control, not you.
Your whole body trembles at the unexpected thrusts, and it doesn't take you long to feel a warm, almost hot sensation filling you up.
“You wanted me to come inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth, snapping his hips against yours while your whole body goes limp. Chan hugs you tightly in place, preventing his dick from sliding out of you, “you better not fucking waste it, then”.
He milks himself inside you with each thrust, letting out deep grunts of pleasure in between.
“Chan,” you gasp when you feel his cum oozing out of your pussy and around his cock, all while he is inside you, “fuck”.
Even after a few seconds, he feels he isn't done yet —he is still throbbing and pulsating inside your walls, and he just can't stop shooting his cum into you. This is the first time he comes like this, and it is as painful as it is pleasurable.
“It's dripping out of me,” you murmur when he finally slows down, looking down to where your bodies connect —it's messy, but neither of you can begin to care. At least not when it feels this good to be filled.
Chan lets out a deep exhale, his chest moving frantically as he tries to catch his breath. He feels defeated, and weak, but at the same time he can't wrap his head about how good it fucking felt to finally let go, to be able to fuck you full of his cum until it dripped out of your tight hole.
So much so, that the idea of pulling out and coming anywhere else it's just not an option any more.
And just like he got addicted to fucking you raw, he might be addicted to stuff you full of his cum now too.
He just needed a little push.
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I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!
You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.
"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."
"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."
"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."
You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.
"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"
"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."
You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.
"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"
"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"
"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.
She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.
"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"
"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."
Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.
You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"
"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."
Your stomach drops.
"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"
"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"
"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.
"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"
"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"
"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.
"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."
"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.
"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"
"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."
"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"
"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.
"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"
"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."
He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."
"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"
"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'
"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"
"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"
She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.
"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."
#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman fanfiction#hangman imagine#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin imagine#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x y/n#top gun x reader#top gun maverick x reader
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Best (Girl)Friends - Wanda Maximoff x Rogers!Reader
Summary: Wanda sympathizes with your willpower. 70 years on ice is a long time to wait for an intimate touch. And being the good friend that she is, Wanda offers you some help.
Warnings: (+18), some vague plot, smut with virginity loss, Rogers!Reader following all Wanda’s wishes, power bottom!Wanda, kissing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, explicit consent but Wanda being a tease and a bit possessive. | Words: 4.893k
A/-N-> I’m pretty sure this was a request, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |
-&-
Shield acted as if they won the lottery.
In a way, it felt like that. Two Rogers siblings found on the same day would probably yield some promotions within the teams responsible, and a nice image bonus with the US government.
But while Captain America was found in a negative temperature on the other side of the planet, his sister destroyed an entire building with her sudden appearance inside a blue explosion a few hours later.
In your defense, you had no idea what was about to happen.
One minute, you were inside a Howard Stark-designed marine suit at the bottom of the ocean. But in Shield's defense, you were disobeying the orders of your director, that is, Margaret Carter on the phone, who five minutes earlier insisted that she would not risk losing another Rogers and that reaching the cube was not worth the risk to your safety, but you still put on the prototype underwater suit and dived in search of the item, which, to you, was the key to finding your brother.
You were right, in a way. Touching the cube with the determined idea that you would like to see Steve again really worked. The problem was how it happened.
The explosion was all around you, and you saw nothing but the beam of blue light that forced you to close your eyes. One moment you were deep in the sea, and the next you were in the middle of one of the Shield Secret Bases, a thousand of bricks flying around with the force of the explosion.
Your presence in the secret room of Project PEGASUS caused Shield to be on high alert, and a dozen rifles to be pointed in your face.
But it was all cleared up in no time and ended with your figure handcuffed on the seat of a government Jet on its way to New York.
Unlike Steve, you were awake. And not the least bit in the mood to follow Nick Fury's theatrical demands.
"That's to avoid shock, Miss Rogers-"
"Absolutely not, Nicholas." You cut him off impatiently, your hands-free since Shield had clarified exactly who you were. "The first thing I'm saying to my brother won't be a lie."
Nick sighed. "I understand it's a delicate situation, Miss, but Captain Rogers has been frozen for too long. An innocent fantasy is meant to lessen the shock of the truth."
You skirted Nick without caring about the speech. "There's no way to lighten news like this one. We're both in the future, for Chris’s sake! That it's absurd enough. No more lies, and let me see my brother for once. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."
Fury didn't have the heart to insist, not only because he had another supersoldier getting him out of the way, but because of the emotion in your voice. He waved in dismissal to any soldier more curious about your determined walk, and no one interfered as you made your way to the room where they placed your brother.
Shield had begun to create a scenario around him that made you chuckle in irony. You dismissed the agent posing as a nurse with a look, and Nick allowed you to be alone in the room, and without wasting any time, you made your way to the bed.
Steve looked the same as he did the day he disappeared, and you felt a sob break in your throat. Maybe the sound woke him up.
He opened confused eyes at you, and unlike him, you had aged a lot since the last time he had seen you when you were still a child.
"Hey, Stevie." Your greeting came hoarsely, laden with emotion. Steve took a moment to recognize you.
"Y/N?" He asked, tense and startled. You could almost see the gears of his brain working, the way he tried to recognize his surroundings as well. "God, how long have I...?"
"Longer than you can imagine, big brother. Much longer." You replied before hugging him tightly.
This must have been the last entirely friendly interaction you had with your brother, a reunion bittersweet for its peculiarities that was unable to conciliate years of differences between the two of you. Nor did the ice erase your hurt over Steve sending you away from the war when your parents passed away, or make you forget the years of training and working for Shield in search of him once you were back in Brooklyn. Nor did it change Steve's view of how he wanted to protect and keep out of trouble - which included superhero work - his younger sister who he had vowed to take care of.
But it was indeed an undeniable amusement to the rest of the team that the personalities of the Rogers siblings were so blatantly different, and it caused some apprehension every time Steve had to witness you leaving the tower in some sports car borrowed from Tony Stark while dressed in leather jackets borrowed from Natasha Romanoff.
The apex that you were entirely corrupted for all that he expected from a proper 1950s girl came in the addition of a certain angry witch to the team a while later.
Of course, the close age - if one ignores the years between the time jump and your arrival - you and Wanda had made your friendship an inevitability. But this doesn't mean that witnessing your clear crush on the new Avenger wasn't giving your older brother a headache.
Natasha thinks he deserved some credit. Considering he was a white man from the 1950s who was frozen before appearing in a new century, Steve was pretty open-minded. She was pretty sure this was due to the closet years of keeping a secret crush on his best friend, but she wouldn't be mean enough to torment Steve with that.
And besides this, you were also getting used to the new century. And with the possibility of being able to have feelings for Wanda in an open and free way, so different from the world you lived in before.
The witch, on the other hand, had the greatest of fun tormenting you as much as she could while she waited for you to be ready.
And these teases came at every opportunity Wanda could take, from summer days at the tower pool where she had an excuse to wear bikinis around you and make a complete mess of you with the "friendly cuddling" which is how she came to justify the fact that your room was hers now and that there was nothing more platonical than sleeping cuddled up to your best friend.
With each passing moment, you grew comfortable and certain in your own feelings, parallel to which you became more confident in your powers and Wanda began to feel that the tables were turning on her every time a tickle war ended with you using your super-strength to pin her to the bed or you could effortlessly carry her away from a training session or conflict.
It didn't take long for the situation to become unbearable - Wanda was sure she would combust in the next cuddling session if she felt your body against hers again without that leading to what she really wanted, so now she had to take drastic action.
Communication was always the key to everything.
"Have you ever had sex?"
Your cell phone fell hard on your face. Wanda giggled at the mirror reflection: she was on her back brushing her hair and stealing glances at your figure lying on the bed, still learning to use the current technology but definitely loving the whole thing.
Snorting in embarrassment, you pushed the electronic device down onto the mattress and massaged your sore face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy seeing me like this."
"What do you mean?" She asks innocently, turning her attention to the ring drawer.
"Disconcerted."
Wanda chuckles mischievously, running her fingers through the options and trying to decide between the items as you stare at the ceiling. "I know you're like 100 years old, but won’t you tell me that it never happened? Not even when you became a hottie super soldier?"
You grunted in shame, covering your face with your arm. Wanda giggled again, this time putting on one of the silver rings. You were too far away to notice how her fingers were slightly trembling, giving away how she was equally affected by the conversation. But unlike you, Wanda knew how to keep it cool very well.
"Wandaaa." You grumbled, and she almost dropped the subject when you added. "No."
"No, what?"
With a sigh, you removed your arm from in front of your face but didn't risk looking at her. "Back then...I just, I didn't have the courage I guess. You know, girls were supposed to be virgins to marry, in theory. And well, I wasn't going to marry anyone because I was too busy working. And when I got into the army, the vast majority of the guys I knew started looking at me with contempt and indignation, and then came the serum I just...didn't know how to handle the attention."
Wanda spun the stool she was sitting on toward you, listening closely to your words.
You sighed shyly. "I mean I had opportunities, but I just didn't feel comfortable following them. I wanted... to be with someone who liked me. Not the super serum, you know? Most people were only talking to me because of it. They hoped to gain some kind of benefit from meeting the American Soldier. I don't know, maybe it's just me trying not to sound so... cowardly."
Wanda stood up with a sigh, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the ceiling until her face appear in your field of vision.
"Detka, you are literally the bravest person I know." Reminded the witch, bringing a small smile to you. "And there's nothing wrong with not being ready, or waiting for the right person. Sex is intimate, it makes sense that you want it to happen with someone you like and who likes you back."
"Thank you for being understanding." You muttered, swallowing dryly when instead of returning to her previous activities, Wanda sat down on the bed next to you. With a sigh and shifting your gaze to the ceiling again, you ventured, "Have you?"
Wanda's teasing giggle brought a deep color to your face. "Have I what?"
Snorting, you retorted, "Come on, you're the one who brought this up."
Wanda pinched you gently on the belly, smiling at your complaint. “A few times, actually.'"
It made no sense at all to feel jealous of a time you didn't even know her, and that you were somehow in the past, but still, a bitter burn filled your stomach. Wanda, the telepath that she was, seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, and without caring whether it would make your heart stop or not, approached you to use your torso as her personal pillow. With two legs on which side of your hips, she stared down at you.
"But it was nothing outstanding." She began, using her fingertips to wander all the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders through your pajamas and having the best time in the world in watching every single hair of you shiver. "I kept making the same mistake in settling down for mediocre sex. No real feelings, no passion, much less love. Always end up frustrated and having to finish the job alone."
You frowned in confusion. "Alone...?" But it only took one look from Wanda for you to understand what she meant and choke, your face pink again. The younger girl giggled, leaning her elbow on you to rest her chin on her own hand and take a closer look.
"Eyes on me, baby." She asked, hoping you would overcome your own shyness to do so. When you follow her request, Wanda was ready to risk everything. "You know I love you, don't you?"
You sighed, nodding. "I love you too, Wanda." Your confession was huskier than hers, and she had to ignore the sincerity of what that really meant in order to stay focused on that afternoon's goal. "Kind of the essential thing on the best friend package, isn't it?"
Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes.
Of course, you would make a joke to lessen the intensity of the moment, if she was nervous in all her confident glory, she could have sympathy for you, who was literally having to deal with your long-time crush practicing lying over you.
"Friends help each other, don't they? Especially best friends." She retorted, and you frowned in confusion.
"Yeah, I guess… why, did something happen?" Before your confusion could turn to worry entirely and you could finish the movement of getting up, Wanda pressed her hands on your shoulders and pushed you back on the mattress. "Hey." You chuckled puzzledly, but the laughter died into an affected sigh when Wanda simply shifted in your lap completely, in a very non-platonic way. "Right, whatever makes you comfortable." You mutter, very aware of the heat radiating from the girl's body on top of you, who just chuckled mischievously at your shyness.
"Relax, dorogoya." Wanda reasserted in a low, dangerously seductive voice. Her hands were on your shoulders still, rubbing your loose pajamas and somehow pushing them down to the limits, exposing as much skin as Wanda could manage. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to...but I also need you to tell me exactly what you wanna do and how ready for me you are."
Your throat went dry, and Wanda's dilated pupils were not helping the words to form. She bit her lip, seeming to have the best time with your clumsiness.
"I-I... god, Wanda..." You gasped and she leaned in completely until her breath was hitting your cheek.
"How about a kiss? Don't tell me you never got one?" She mocked and you had to chuckle dryly.
"You can be quite an ass, Maximoff." You murmured with your eyes closed, risking moving your hands to her thighs around your hips, the action making you both hold your breaths for a second. "I've kissed before."
"Hmm, I see." She hits back, deviating from the original path and letting her mouth tease your jaw, feeling your hands squeeze her thighs gently with every kiss across your skin. What Wanda wouldn't do to see you lose control...
"I like kissing." You confess hoarsely, mostly because she’s making you so nervous that the words are simply spilling. You kept your eyes closed and your neck stretched to give her more room to don’t stop. Aware of your words, Wanda hums again as she keeps depositing chaste kisses on your collarbone. "I like...kissing girls."
It should be a heartfelt confession, one that Wanda theoretically knew about but that you've never put into words before. But suddenly, Wanda bit down on you, hard enough for you to grunt in pain, opening your eyes. She grabs your cheeks with one hand, a hot fury in her eyes that makes you shudder.
"Rule number one, don't talk about other girls when you have one on top of you."
You open your mouth like a fish, babbling nonsense for enough time for Wanda to make a motion of leaving. But that makes you react. "I didn't mean to upset you!" You try quickly, hands moving on an instinct to hold her by the waist on top of you. Wanda has to bite her lips hard to keep from letting out a much more submissive sound than she would like when you just squeeze her firmly to keep her there. "Wanda, please forgive me! I-you caught me off guard, alright? I’m nervous… We’re friends and suddenly… you’re so close and I’m talking nonsense! Please, just… tell me what you want to hear.”
She huffs impatiently, crossing her arms and turning her face away as you sigh in defeat. Wanda wants to be annoyed, but you're so lovely when you lean your face into her, trying to ease her anger with chaste kisses on her cheeks and neck until you manage to get from her a stubborn smile. She has no choice but to uncross her arms to slide her hands up your shoulders, wrapping herself around your body again.
She feels you smile and relax completely, the kisses getting firmer on her neck until they tickle and elicit a husky giggle from her. Still, Wanda settles a hand in your hair, and the slight tug to bring your faces close together again draws a deep sigh from you.
"I don't want to hear about other girls, detka. This is your last warning." She says seriously with eyes glowing red for a moment. Wanda had hoped to have a direct effect, but to her surprise, a teasing smirk began to form on your lips.
"Wow, you're totally jealous." You accused and she grimaced, trying to pull away once more. But that only made you burst out into a teasing giggle, while your strong arms wrapped around her torso, bringing her back to you effortlessly while keeping her locked into you. Wanda was clearly aware of how shaky her legs were with the motion, and trying to walk away again would only result in her falling to the ground. "Wanda, darling, the girls I kissed must be a hundred years old by now."
Reluctantly and with a rosy tinge in her cheeks, she mutters, "Honestly, I was hoping to be your first." Her confession makes you rise your eyebrows in surprise, only to smile fondly next. Your hands moved again, caressing her back in an attempt to relax her as well.
"Hey, look at me." You call out gently, waiting for the girl's stubbornness to subside with the help of your caresses. Wanda has a stronger color on her face when she finally raises her eyes to you again. "I didn't imagine this was anything of relevance to you. But I haven't lied before, I've never been with someone intimately. If you still want to, you can be my first... everything else."
She twitches her nose softly. "You’re making it sound like it’s a favor for me. I only want to... if you do too." She retorts with a certain determination in her gaze, and though you feel your cheeks burn with the ultimatum, you nod foolishly before breaking the distance.
It catches Wanda by surprise, the sudden kiss, and you're despairing when she doesn't respond immediately, pulling away at the same speed you approached. "Sorry." You say mortified and breathless, your lips tingling. "I like you, Wan. I really do. I just thought you should know before..."
She places a finger over yours, shushing your nervous anticipation. Her free hand goes to your cheek and Wanda pulls you close again, her eyes darkening in a way that makes you shiver entirely.
"Like I said before, just relax, baby. Stop overthinking." She whispers before she firms her mouth over yours. It's a sensual, intense kiss unlike any you've ever received. Wanda seems determined to drive you to complete insanity. She kisses you unhurried, waiting for permission to slide her tongue into yours, and giving you no room to breathe properly, head spinning with those new yet so familiar needy feelings. She kisses and kisses you until you're restless beneath her, your body burning and your hands curious testing limits that she doesn’t impose, only encourages you to break. Her taste and smell intoxicate your every sense, the feel of her body molded to yours, teasing your reactions and almost making you lose control of your strength. The tight squeeze you give her when she sucks your tongue earns a whimper from her that sticks and echoes in your mind, making you dizzy with lust. When she finally breaks the kiss to breathe, her lips are swollen like yours, and her pupils are so dilated that there is no green left in them. Your face burns for the matching fire you find in her gaze.
You are unable to find any words to describe this moment, so you only stare at her, blushing over the smirk that starts to form on her lips once she catches the adoring look you’re giving her.
Licking your lips to try to gain some focus, you dare to ask: “Was it…good?” You would have added “Did you like” or “Was I enough” if Wanda didn't break into a giggle that shut you entirely, your cheeks burning. Before the shame could surface, she grabbed your cheeks again.
“You’re too cute, darling.” She says, kissing you again more quickly than before. Her hands move to yours then, intertwining your fingers together to drag them on her thighs, down, and then back up, this time under her skirt. Your heart stopped, and Wanda turned her dark eyes back to yours, her voice so low you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close. “Don’t be shy, see for yourself how much I like kissing you.” She whispers darkly.
When she kisses you again, her hands guide you under her skirt until you're in her front. The mere contact of your fingers with the wet spot on her panties makes you groan and break the kiss, needing a moment to just take a breath and calm your nerves. Wanda doesn't wait long, releasing your hands to move hers to your shoulders, needing firm support now that you're so close to where she needs it so badly. She gasps in surprise when your hand gives a quick tug that rips her panties off at once, a wave of new wetness running down her thighs in the same second.
You don't say anything about it, just turns your face to kiss her again, the same way she did before, and somehow even dirtier and more sexual, drawing gasps with every flick of your tongue against hers.
Because Wanda's your best friend, she wants to taunt you - tease you about being better at this than you let on, but all the words fall away at once when your fingers fill her in one go. All Wanda can do is moan, choking on the kiss as she feels you slide into her with such ease.
"Fuck, detka." She moans with her eyes tightly closed, just as she pulls away to breathe. Your response is to just continue your movements, in and out of her without haste, feeling every mention of her warm walls squeezing your fingers. Wanda is burning on top of you and the sound of her drenched pleasure echoes low. You hum contentedly, nipping at her neck as she can no longer match the kiss, so close to her own climax. Your hand adjusts, increasing its reach, and when your thumb gives her clit the attention it needs, Wanda lets out an affected squeal. "W-wanna cum, baby. Please!"
You bite back a smile, surprised and impressed by the question hidden in the statement. You adjust to face her and wait for Wanda to feel the change to look at you too. The dark, lust-filled pupils leave you breathless.
"You can cum, sweetheart, you don't even have to ask." You assure her softly, never stopping your movements inside her. "I'm here to please you." You whisper, and it's enough for Wanda to break into an affected moan, hips thrusting helplessly against your hand until she arches her back and lets out the longest, dirtiest moan you've ever heard.
Her eyes flutter shut as she rides her high on your soaked hand, until she finally opens scarlet pupils for you, a long groan leaving her lips as the last sensations of the best orgasm she ever had fade away.
Wanda turns her full attention to you in the next second, stealing quick but intense kisses until a husky giggle leaves her lips and tickles yours.
"You're too good at this for your own good." She prompts, and the compliment takes a heartfelt giggle from you. You try to relax under her gaze but Wanda's dilated eyes have a different twinkle as she holds your cheeks more firmly. "I think I want to keep you all to myself. Without sharing with anybody else. What do you say, baby?"
You swallow dry, suddenly quite vulnerable "H-hm, like... dating?" You retort in a weak tone of voice because you need to confirm and well the idea that someone as unbelievably awesome as Wanda Maximoff is actually asking for exclusivity with you seems too freaking surreal not to confirm. As many times as necessary.
Wanda giggles mischievously, settling herself on top of your fingers that never left her and sighing as she feels you even deeper than before. "Yeah, just like that." She moans, and you're not sure if she's answering your question or guiding you through the motions, but you get the impression that the answer goes both ways.
It's not like you will contradict your new girlfriend any further.
Before Wanda could indulge in the sensation again, however, she stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist. Raising curious eyes to the breathless flushed girl on top of you, your first reaction was to check if you had done something wrong, and by god, hurt her. But Wanda bit back a smile, her other hand going down to your belt.
"We're overdressed, honey." She whispered against your lips, red sparkles playing with the edge of your shirts, teasing them upward. " Strip."
Moaning low against her mouth, Wanda almost didn't let you pull away. In record time, your clothes were off and so were hers, between stolen panting kisses you fell to the mattress again, curious hands urging together.
Wanda pinned you beneath her with no effort despite your super strength, and feeling her naked against your skin drove you to the brink of insanity. She swallowed each moan with her mouth, appreciating the increasingly needy sounds as she fit against your hips, and began to move hers.
Soon, the friction became unbearably arousing and you had to clutch at the sheet, and the headboard. A hot, tight knot at the tip of your stomach left you breathless, every movement of Wanda's hips into yours, the perfect fit between your cunts was enough to make you choke.
You practically meowed when she got the rhythm right. "O-oh god Wanda! T-there's something... fuck, I can't-"
"I know baby, just let go for me." She panted, her hands clenching the sheet on either side of your head, her hips frantic against yours. "Fuck, you feel amazing" She moans a confession, smiling satisfied at your expression of pure bliss beneath her.
Suddenly the knot bursts, and you're blinded by the pleasure of your first orgasm for a full moment. The headboard snaps in your left hand and Wanda cums in a loud, animalistic moan, spilling herself down on you before collapsing heavily onto your torso, your panting breaths mingling like your juices.
You try to recover together from the intensity of the climax, your hand finding her back on instinct to stroke her as Wanda nestles closer against you, an exhausted, satisfied smile on her lips.
She barely had a chance to lift her face to kiss you when the bedroom door suddenly opened.
"Kid, is everything all right in here I heard something breaking-'"
You nearly knocked Wanda off the bed in an attempt to cover the two of you with the comforter - and the mattress lost a few springs in the process.
The two Avengers who'd entered the room covered their faces with their hands, but unlike your brother, Natasha was holding back her laughter.
"I'm sorry. We... I... you-"
"Come on Captain, we're leaving." Natasha cut Steve off with a pat on the shoulder, leading the way backward. "Sorry girls, lock the door next time. And well, use protection!" She burst out laughing, ignoring the embarrassed grumbles from you and Wanda, and closing the door.
With the safety of a locked door, you hid your face in your pillow.
"Great, the best day of my life might be ruined because my brother is going to have a stroke." You grumbled, getting a hearty laugh from the other.
Wanda adjusted herself, stroking your hair until you looked at her again. "Best day of your life, huh? I'm flattered." She teases, smiling at the red that appears on your cheeks.
"As if you weren't cocky enough." You retort in the same tone, adjusting to hold her by the waist and pull her to you, getting on top now. Wanda sighs softly, even warmer with the addition of the blanket now, she finds it kind of hard to concentrate, much more talk. "Thank you, Wands."
Your line surprises her. "For what?"
"For being my first time." You clarify with a shrug, though your gaze was intense. "I've always wanted it to be with someone special, someone I like and trust. And there's no one I love more than you."
Wanda kisses you because she doesn't want to be the type to cry during sex, and she's pretty sure she would. You don't mind, she transmits the feeling through action and well, there are other things you're dying to do other than talk.
There will be time for confessions later.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff oneshots#marvel oneshots#elizabeth olsen x reader
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Incel scara x reader x scummy scara 👀👀
Cuz like, one wants you on your knees for him and the other is already on his knees for you
Just a drabble and also to differentiate between the two, incel scara will be referred to as Kunikuzushi while scummy scara is just Scara.
Moans spilled from your mouth as Scaramouche's tongue desperately lapped at your left nipple like his life depended on it. His hand was on your right breast, squeezing and fondling the mound like dough while the other was wrapped around your waist tightly.
Kunikuzushi's teeth sank into your neck, sharp canines hooking into the skin as he sucked the skin mercilessly, leaving hickeys all over. His hands gripped your hips so hard it hurt as he rutted his cock against your ass, feeling the slick coating your pussu drip down your thighs. When he decided that he had marked you enough, his mouth finally left your neck to come up to whisper in your ear,"Is the slut enjoying herself? I always knew you were nothing but a useless whore who's greedy for cock," His left hand came down to give your clit a sharp pinch and he grinned sinisterly as he felt you jolt and whine,"Look at you, moaning like a bitch in heat as we tease you. Bet you've cummed already just from having two men play with you like this. It's all women want nowadays; a man to use her holes."
Scaramouche groaned as he felt your nails digging into his back. He really hoped it would leave long lasting marks that he could admire later. His lips finally detached from your chest, a thing string of saliva connecting his mouth to it. His was flushed as he panted like he just ran a marathon, "Haah~...you taste so heavenly. Like a goddess sent from above..you are a goddess. I want more. I need more of you..." Before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily as his hands came up to hold the sides of your face. His hips were flush against yours, allowing you to feel his erection nudging your clit, making you squirm as they sandwiched you between them.
Suddenly, you felt a sharp yank to your hair causing your head to be pulled back and thus breaking the kiss, making Scaramouche groan in disappointment. Though he was quick to occupy his mouth with your now exposed neck which had purple-red bruises all over it. Kunikuzushi hissed, his raspy voice going straight to your brain (and pussy),"So pathetic. The idiot can't get enough of you, I'm sure you're getting off to it. Now kiss me." He demanded, not giving you a chance to answer as he plants his lips on yours, melding them together as he dominates your wet cavern with his tongue.
Your pleas and moans were muffled, but they could vaguely make out the words 'put it in..'. It made the two men smile, and it was almost comical how their grins contrasted each other. Kunikuzushi cooed mockingly,"Aww is my slut getting needy? Want my cock in you so bad, hm?" His condescension was balanced out by Scaramouche's eager response,"You really want us to fuck you? I can't wait to feel your tight pussy squeezing my cock, I've been fantasizing about it for months.."
You can feel them positioning themselves at your hole and your legs quiver in anticipation, your walls clenching around nothing. Your breath hitches as you feel them push in...
#genshin smut#smut#x reader smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader smut#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x reader smut#scaramouche x reader#scara smut
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Can you do one where Adam sees you as a place holder for his wives and doesn’t respect you ever but when you want to leave him he realizes just how much he truly cares about you and then like over course of a period of time (your choice) we forgive him :)
Thank you for listening ❤️
This was a fun one! I love a bit of angst. Can't get enough of the stuff!!
💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖
Reader POV because I got a similar ask which I'll write as Adams POV
Used
It's all I ever asked for. To be respected. To be loved. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to be alone and wait for him while he was out galavanting around the heavens! How was it fair? He'd only ever sees me for sex. He wouldn't reply to my texts but god fucking forbid I miss one of his texts.
Or in this case ignore. I've had enough. I'm not being second choice anymore! So I texted him "we're done." I know it's cowardly to "break up" via text but it's not even like we were dating! I placed my phone down on my side table. I should of put it on silent. Why didn't I put it on silent.
Curling up on my bed, tears flowing from my eyes as I hear the vibration on my phone. He's either calling or text bombing me. I pick up my phone to see several missed called and about 20 texts already.
You think you're better than me?!
You're nothing!
I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT
YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!
I sob.
I must of fallen asleep during my crying of self pity. I stretch out my arms as I sit up only to see Adam at the doorway. I scream in surprise, falling off my bed hitting my phone off the nightstand in the process. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I yell at him.
He stands there, looming over me. "You want to leave me?" He asked, never had I heard him so emotionless. I tut as I stand up. "You say that like you cared." I retort, picking my phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards me, reaching out but I pulled away. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."
I can't help but sigh, collapsing on my bed, hair covering my face. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." I can hear Adam moving closer, his wings dragging across the floor. "What are you talking about?" One of his hands land on mine. "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with mine as his other hand brushes my hair from my face revealing my teary eyes. "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."
His hand cups my face and I just can't help but melt into his touch. "Be mine?" I shrug in response. Clearing his throat he clarifies, "no, I'm asking. Be mine." I can't help but look at him like an idiot, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"
"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He stares at me with a blank expression. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in what I can only assume is annoyance. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." Never have I seen him look so weak. So... Small? "I'll have to think about it." I can't tell if he feels relieved or worried. Maybe both. "H-how long will that take?" He asked with a hint of desperation.
"I don't know, Adam." I shrug. My words hung in the air. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kissed my hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." I watch as he leaves my apartment. No through the door of course, no, he always had to leave from the balcony. I usually watch as he flies away. But not this time..
It's been about a month since I last spoke to Adam. I've seen him about. Doing his thing. It makes me laugh. When ever he notices me he freezes up. Just last week he was talking to Sera and as soon as he noticed me walk past he just stared. I swear I heard Sera say "earth to Adam."
Today I decided. I head towards his office, walking past several anxious angles. I heard yelling come from inside his office and then something smash. Before I could knock the door swung open and standing before me was a very frustrated Adam. His feathers were literally ruffled. "Y/n?" He was surprised to see me but his expression changed quickly as he remembered in was in the presence of his underlings. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. It was mess. I mean, I've seen it messy before but this was a whole new level. Documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. "Bad day?" I commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven."
He slumps down on his chair, watching me as I walk over to his office window, opening it to get some of that heavenly fresh air in. "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight. "And?"
"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." I don't even get a chance to turn and face him before he's already darted from his chair wrapping me in his arms. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His wings surrounded us. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."
～♡✧｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧♡～
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel smut#adam x reader#hazbin hotel adam smut
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᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2
preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...
ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader
wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵💫🥴🤡
W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹
an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33
tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33
“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?”
There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary.
“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.”
“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call.
“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s.
“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple.
If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him.
But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth.
“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life.
“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes.
“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!”
“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock.
“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”
“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock.
And he loved every second of it.
“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit.
“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix.
Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly.
“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard.
He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips.
You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily.
“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom.
“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base.
Man knew he was in heaven.
When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye.
“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that.
His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title?
“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”
One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”
“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist.
“Well, yea–”
“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin.
“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”
And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place.
You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–
Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got.
“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets.
“You don’t have to be so mean–”
“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–”
When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white.
“Hey–”
“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders.
“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–”
“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground.
“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw–
“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face.
“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him.
Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him?
Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head.
Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal?
He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles.
“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you.
He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag.
“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest.
Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what?
You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong?
Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go?
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening.
It had been a week.
One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time.
“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.”
Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last.
“Don’t shut me out like this.”
And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest.
You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now?
Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend.
All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy.
He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow.
That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter.
Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him.
“Hey–”
“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”
“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”
“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.
His sweet little crybaby.
“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…”
“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.”
He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you.
“I know, I know little love and–”
“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you–”
“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that.
“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because–
“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away.
“Well to start, there’s your brother–”
“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–”
“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words.
“What are you so afraid of?”
That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question.
Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer.
“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.”
There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips.
He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you.
“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.”
Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself.
So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.
You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back.
What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.
“Ya know m’working–”
“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?”
“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of–
“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.”
“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya.
“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”
“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.
“Bet you haven’t even showered.”
“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?”
“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.”
Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s.
But not without a shower first.
Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face.
“Would you look at that, he showered.”
Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up.
“So, what's got you fucked up?”
“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen.
“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–”
“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.”
“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”
Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up.
“What about her?”
“You were seeing her–”
“I was not.”
Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head.
“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.”
“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself.
“So, did you two break up?”
“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter.
“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.”
“Watch your mouth man–”
“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.”
Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.”
Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave–
“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?”
“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms.
“So, let yourself be happy, dude.”
“But she’s another little sister–”
“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.”
Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down.
“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s.
“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.”
Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.”
“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.”
Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right.
I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left.
Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did.
“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again.
He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto–
You.
You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact.
He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside.
“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault–
“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.
That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual.
After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy.
It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees.
He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch.
He wanted you to be that comfortable again.
“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–”
There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”
He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–”
“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–”
That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them.
“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…”
This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks.
Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound.
Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head.
“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.
Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again–
His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips.
“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him.
You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip.
“Oh fuck—“
Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever.
You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip.
“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag–
He’d save it for another time.
“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up.
“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded.
“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.”
From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit.
“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion.
“K-Ken–”
“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.”
You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”
You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest.
“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face.
“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?”
You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together.
“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–”
And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage.
“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–”
His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.”
He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you.
“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…”
Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with.
Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride.
“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans.
“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones.
Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…
He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake.
“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.”
When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.”
“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before.
“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips.
“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at.
And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone.
“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–”
“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.”
“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.”
“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer.
And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier.
“Well, what the fuck is this–”
“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch.
“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”
“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.”
There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath.
“Classic sister fucker–”
“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.”
“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again.
“Now why would you say that you ass–”
“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis.
“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder.
And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence.
“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”
“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled.
“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”
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*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.
First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.
TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.
I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.
I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)
I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.
I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.
I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.
(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)
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