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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month

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Prison-tech company bribed jails to ban in-person visits

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Beware of geeks bearing gifts. When prison-tech companies started offering "free" tablets to America's vast army of prisoners, it set off alarm-bells for prison reform advocates – but not for the law-enforcement agencies that manage the great American carceral enterprise.

The pitch from these prison-tech companies was that they could cut the costs of locking people up while making jails and prisons safer. Hell, they'd even make life better for prisoners. And they'd do it for free!

These prison tablets would give every prisoner their own phone and their own video-conferencing terminal. They'd supply email, of course, and all the world's books, music, movies and games. Prisoners could maintain connections with the outside world, from family to continuing education. Sounds too good to be true, huh?

Here's the catch: all of these services are blisteringly expensive. Prisoners are accustomed to being gouged on phone calls – for years, prisons have done deals with private telcos that charge a fortune for prisoners' calls and split the take with prison administrators – but even by those standards, the calls you make on a tablet are still a ripoff.

Sure, there are some prisoners for whom money is no object – wealthy people who screwed up so bad they can't get bail and are stewing in a county lockup, along with the odd rich murderer or scammer serving a long bid. But most prisoners are poor. They start poor – the cops are more likely to arrest poor people than rich people, even for the same crime, and the poorer you are, the more likely you are to get convicted or be suckered into a plea bargain with a long sentence. State legislatures are easy to whip up into a froth about minimum sentences for shoplifters who steal $7 deodorant sticks, but they are wildly indifferent to the store owner's rampant wage-theft. Wage theft is by far the most costly form of property crime in America and it is almost entirely ignored:

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/jun/15/wage-theft-us-workers-employees

So America's prisons are heaving with its poorest citizens, and they're certainly not getting any richer while they're inside. While many prisoners hold jobs – prisoners produce $2b/year in goods and $9b/year in services – the average prison wage is $0.52/hour:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

(In six states, prisoners get nothing; North Carolina law bans paying prisoners more than $1/day, the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution explicitly permits slavery – forced labor without pay – for prisoners.)

Likewise, prisoners' families are poor. They start poor – being poor is a strong correlate of being an American prisoner – and then one of their breadwinners is put behind bars, taking their income with them. The family savings go to paying a lawyer.

Prison-tech is a bet that these poor people, locked up and paid $1/day or less; or their families, deprived of an earner and in debt to a lawyer; will somehow come up with cash to pay $13 for a 20-minute phone call, $3 for an MP3, or double the Kindle price for an ebook.

How do you convince a prisoner earning $0.52/hour to spend $13 on a phone-call?

Well, for Securus and Viapath (AKA Global Tellink) – a pair of private equity backed prison monopolists who have swallowed nearly all their competitors – the answer was simple: they bribed prison officials to get rid of the prison phones.

Not just the phones, either: a pair of Michigan suits brought by the Civil Rights Corps accuse sheriffs and the state Department of Corrections of ending in-person visits in exchange for kickbacks from the money that prisoners' families would pay once the only way to reach their loved ones was over the "free" tablets:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/03/jails-banned-family-visits-to-make-more-money-on-video-calls-lawsuits-claim/

These two cases are just the tip of the iceberg; Civil Rights Corps says there are hundreds of jails and prisons where Securus and Viapath have struck similar corrupt bargains:

https://civilrightscorps.org/case/port-huron-michigan-right2hug/

And it's not just visits and calls. Prison-tech companies have convinced jails and prisons to eliminate mail and parcels. Letters to prisoners are scanned and delivered their tablets, at a price. Prisoners – and their loved ones – have to buy virtual "postage stamps" and pay one stamp per "page" of email. Scanned letters (say, hand-drawn birthday cards from your kids) cost several stamps:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Prisons and jails have also been convinced to eliminate their libraries and continuing education programs, and to get rid of TVs and recreational equipment. That way, prisoners will pay vastly inflated prices for streaming videos and DRM-locked music.

The icing on the cake? If the prison changes providers, all that data is wiped out – a prisoner serving decades of time will lose their music library, their kids' letters, the books they love. They can get some of that back – by working for $1/day – but the personal stuff? It's just gone.

Readers of my novels know all this. A prison-tech scam just like the one described in the Civil Rights Corps suits is at the center of my latest novel The Bezzle:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Prison-tech has haunted me for years. At first, it was just the normal horror anyone with a shred of empathy would feel for prisoners and their families, captive customers for sadistic "businesses" that have figured out how to get the poorest, most desperate people in the country to make them billions. In the novel, I call prison-tech "a machine":

a million-armed robot whose every limb was tipped with a needle that sank itself into a different place on prisoners and their families and drew out a few more cc’s of blood.

But over time, that furious empathy gave way to dread. Prisoners are at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve. They endure the technological torments that haven't yet been sanded down on their bodies, normalized enough to impose them on people with a little more privilege and agency. I'm a long way up the curve from prisoners, but while the shitty technology curve may grind slow, it grinds fine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

The future isn't here, it's just not evenly distributed. Prisoners are the ultimate early adopters of the technology that the richest, most powerful, most sadistic people in the country's corporate board-rooms would like to force us all to use.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

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#pluralistic #prison #prison-tech #marty hench #the bezzle #securus #captive audiences #St Clair County #human rights #prisoners rights #viapath #gtl #global tellink #Genesee County #michigan #guillotine watch #carceral state #corruption

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navybrat817 · 4 months

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Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 8 months

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DPXDC prompt ~Dead on main~Someone is walking over my grave

Jason sits on his tombstone and thinks about..something.

He lazily washes off the dirt that has been stuck on his army boots after the rain. It covers the year of his death perfectly. Grinning, he puts out a cigarette by using the mentioned stone. The cigarette butt throws between ugly funeral wreaths.

Danny: Hey, asshole, stop it!

Jason turns around. A very angry twink is rushing at him. The notorious crime lord does not have time to react when a fist hits him. Red Hood falls into a puddle. Shit! His favorite leather jacket!

Jason: What the hell are you doing?

Danny: No. What the hell are you doing?! Just because a man is dead doesn’t mean you must not respect him. You’re in a cemetery. Behave yourself, shithead. Or I’ll teach you manners.

Jason: You’re not from around here. Right?

Danny: So what? I doubt it’s normal to wipe your feet using a tombstone. Even in Gotham.

A malicious gremlin folds his arms on a chest.

Jason sits in a puddle more comfortably and pulls another cigarette out of his pocket. Damn, it’s wet.

Jason: If you were gothamite, I wouldn’t have to explain. It’s my grave, idiot. I do what I want with it.

Jason throws useless source of nicotine at his photo with black ribbon. The person who convicted him takes a couple of seconds to compare the vandal to the buried one.

Danny: Aw, shit, man. My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt your break.

Jason’s eyebrow rises in surprise. From the outsider he expected more screaming and running. Not…apologies.

Jason: Yeah? Tell that to my favorite leather jacket. Now you can bury it next to me.

Bad Jason, bad. That’s not how normal people talk.

Danny: I’ll make amends. Tomorrow, okay? It’s my first working day. I’ve decided not to take my wallet. Need to find a safe route.

Jason: First day?

Danny: Yes, new cemetery guard here in the flesh. But I have not had time to meet all of inhabitants. Mistook you for a bad boy in a story. Well, it is your fault too! I understand you’re upset about death or maybe about the color of wreaths but please just put all the shit in the trash. I’m Danny, by the way.

Jason: Ha, I was wondering why there was no regular dude at work. Probably my neighbors drove him to a breakdown. He was an asshole, so no regrets.

Danny: Do you think so? Mrs Dent didn’t seem restless to me, she was quite nice.

The guy didn’t seem to catch the joke. Or was crazy. Why are all the hot people in Gotham are? Doesn’t matter. Why not try, right?

Jason: Don’t worry about the money. You can repay me with something else.

Danny: So you regenerates the suit? Cool. What do you want?

Jason: Um, I don’t get it, but… as compensation, I’m wanna have your number and one date.

Danny: Sure, why not.

Danny looks at the headstone.

Danny:Can you go outside the cemetery...Jason? The place is romantic, I agree, but where I grew up, it’s not customary to bring a mate at the place of rest until you meet parents.

Jason: Seriously? Cheesy horror movies didn’t teach you not to mess with zombies?

Danny: Well, I’ve never had a partner who was attracted to my brilliant brain. It must be pretty nice. And I don’t mind a couple of love bites, zombie boy.

Danny’s playfully batting his eyelashes. Jason can’t help laughing.

Danny: The less fair opinion among my friends is that I’m just brain-dead idiot. But I think they just don’t understand the benefits of adrenaline addiction, miserable humans. *pretends to wipe off a tear*

Jason *pretends to sniff*: Aw, hell, you really are a brainless doll, aren’t you?

Danny: Even so, it just means I’m perfectly safe.

Jason: Don’t think so. I want a piece of you.

Danny: Then don’t be afraid that the feeling is mutual. My teeth are also quite sharp. And when I’m haunting, it’s not easy to get rid of me.

The cheeky smile has given way to a serious look.

Danny: If we don’t get along, tell me right away, I’m not good at reading other people’s emotions.

~~~~~

Red Hood may be the son of the greatest detective but blinded by love Jason realizes that his boyfriend is quite dead only after a couple of months. He used to think Danny was a little…weird. Well, who in Gotham isn’t? It wasn't a problem. But during a funny fight about ignoring Danny in favor of a conversation with Tim , Fenton goes through him to grab his phone and then shouts that 'ghosting him is racist'.

Jason was delighted that he was able to hide his surprise. His boyfriend was too sweet, but sometimes insecure. Jay didn’t want Danny to start being cautious. Evidently, Honey thought from the first day that Jason knows. Let him keep it that way. Nothing has changed.

But now Danny’s promises to haunt Joker for the rest of his life if Jason wants it stopped being just super-hot flirt. So Jason need to make sure he doesn’t sic his darling poltergeist or whoever Danny is on someone. Even if it sounds good.

~~~~~Family dinner~~~~~

Dick: How did you two meet?

Jason: That’s a great story. My brave man beat the vandal who was messing with my grave.

Bruce: What? Who dared?

Danny: Jason, stop. It’s embarrassing.

Jason: No~ My family needs to know that chivalry is dead. My hero. Jason can’t resist a kiss on the cheek.

Danny: Taking this opportunity, I want to thank you all. It means a lot that you accepted Jason even not fully alive.

Alfred: Nonsense. Of course we..He’s family, no matter what.

Danny: Until the death separates us. Even at a wedding, love is promised only for a while. In parenthood, they do not take any oath about it. You’d be surprised how little past relationships can mean to people and how easy it is to hate what we are.

Danny: Damn, I ruined the mood, didn’t I? Sorry.

~~~~~

Jason: B, with all due respect, back off. You should ask Constantine how to help Danny if his family becomes a problem. Don’t mark my babe as a problem.

Bruce: I asked. And he laughed at me and said that you are the one who need protection. not him. Your Fenton is dangerous. Ghosts of such power only emerge in cataclysms after a large burst of energy or reach this level after centuries of battles or cannibalism and battles.

Jason: Seriously, old man? My boyfriend’s not gonna eat me. I’m not Red riding hood and he’s clearly not pretending to be my grandmother.

~~~~~~

Danny: Hi, honey. what’s new?

Jason noted with satisfaction that Danny had eaten all the supplies he had prepared for him.

Jason: Nothing, but now I have an idea for great Halloween costumes for us. They are gonna drive the old man crazy.

Danny: Did you fight again? What is it this time?

Jason: Guess what, now B’s worried you want to bite off my dick or something.

Danny: First, eew, disgusting. Don’t talk about our intimate life with fucking Batman. Why would he think that? I like you whole.

Jason: Whore?

Danny: Idiot.They don’t even sound alike.

Jason: Just admit that I am an eye candy and kiss me already. I need a break from the madness of my family.

~~~~~

Later Danny blackmails Constantine for information about the interrogation from Batman.

Then he sends a short message to the group chat : Tell the future father-in-law that while Jason can cook, he is safe from me.

The chat explodes from questions of Batclan to Bruce. Jay has great brothers and sisters. Danny knew their chaotic energy could be relied upon.

~~~~~

In the morning Jason yells at Tim. Why the hell did Replacement put "Friends For Dinner" from The Land Before Time as his alarm melody?

~~~~~

Bruce *is suspicious of the ghosts at the wedding*.

GhostWriter: Do not think that we like it. The boy is involved in his own version of Twilight. Oh Ancients, I hope the Ancients don't know about it.

Clockwork aka one of Ancients: Come on, that’s sweet. And story will have a happy ending. I guarantee.

~~~~~

Jason's in a date simulator with no chance of losing when everyone thinks he’s in a horror game. Is Danny dangerous? Yeah. Did he hunt when they first met? Who knows. The main thing in the middle of the conversation Danny realised he found a creature with a similar sense of humor. So that made Jason 10 out of 10 aka soulmate and he would kill for him.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #ghost hunger au #dead on main #danny phantom x jason todd #danny fenton x jason todd #dirty talk #??? idk

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hotchfiles · 5 days

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↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

“Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth.

The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

“Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

“My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod.

“Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated.

“And you? Catholic?”

“Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood.

Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place.

He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before.

“She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting.

He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date.

“I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment.

Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?”

The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you.

“So you believe it’s a man?”

“Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited.

It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time.

“Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open.

“If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty.

“To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself.

“A very shameful execution.”

You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

“Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

“Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then.

Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

“Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.”

Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

“Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

“They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

“Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction.

“Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation.

Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

“Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

“Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #flari: in nomine patris #lari writes sometimes

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wynnyfryd · 2 months

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Trailer park Steve AU pt. 55 (12.2)

part 1 | part 54 | ao3

A cop picks him up just outside Dinwiddie, two and a half miles from where he left his car on the side of the road. She’s plump and squat, with red hair and a midwestern accent, like Mrs. Henderson if she grew up in Minnesota.

“Wisconsin,” she corrects. “Hop in, I’ll take you to Lorraine’s.”

“Thanks, Officer…?”

“Greene.”

Steve accepts the offer because his fingertips are so cold they’re starting to burn through his leather gloves, and as she drives them to the diner in town he explains the flat tire — debris flying off an eighteen wheeler, a crazy loud clang followed by a flapping thud-thud-thud, the smell of burnt rubber as he eased onto the shoulder only to remember that he never replaced his busted tire jack.

“Coulda been worse,” Officer Greene shrugs, looking at him with a small grin and tapping a gloved finger against her temple. “Coulda hit ya in the noggin.”

“True," Steve chuckles, "could’ve gone four for four on the concussions.” He has to cover his laugh with a fake cough because he gets a flash of concerned crazy eyes in response, which is pretty fair, actually. Sometimes he forgets the details of his life all sound insane. “Uh. Sports," he amends. "I play— yeah.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Steve watches the woods, the shadows reaching like blunt fingers over the hills, and the snow turns to freezing rain and pools in all the potholes as they splash down the sad main street, past a junkyard and an old schoolhouse, past boarded-up windows and short, stubby buildings full of failing small businesses. Lorraine’s is a hole in the wall at the end of a neglected strip, half the bulbs on the sign blown out so it just reads Rain’s in flickering yellow light, and Steve thinks that's fitting because this place is shit. This place is shit, and he feels like shit, and he’s going to have to drive home to his shitty trailer and see Eddie’s van parked across the street or maybe it still won't be there at all and he— he fucking—

"Easy," Officer Greene says. "You'll chew a hole through your lip doin' that." She parks the car and turns to him, squinting. "You okay?"

Steve pinches the end of his nose.

In the diner, she slides into the booth opposite him and insists on buying him coffee and a short stack, because, "Well, no offense, young man, but you seem like you may be goin' through it a bit."

Steve winces over his coffee, cradling the warm cup with both hands. “Yeah, well,” he sniffs, “my, uh…" Your what, exactly? "I got dumped.”

He doesn’t know why he gives her the details — the empty bed, the sticky note. Sorry. Something in her eyes makes him feel like he can trust her, and when they finish their meal she reaches over and lays a hand over his. Tells him it sounds like he’s got a lot of other people who love him; tells him he should think about giving one of them a call.

With a lump in his throat and fresh tears in his lashes, he fishes quarters from his pocket and trudges over to the phone. Dials one of the few numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello,” Claudia greets, “Henderson residence.”

A truly ugly noise escapes him, wet and thick with phlegm.

“Hello?” she tries again. "Dusty, is that you? Are you okay?"

Steve’s not about to cry where all the waitresses can see. “Hey, Ma,” he croaks when he feels like he can breathe. “It's Steve. Can I... do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

—

part 56

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #trailer park steve au #my writing #my fic

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marvelstoriesepic · 3 months

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Paranoia

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, fluff

author‘s note: Y‘all this is my first fic. So excited to get this all started!!

Masterlist

It had long gone dark as Bucky made his way home to you. A mission in Vienna occupied him for the last couple of days and he couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms again, breathe you in, and smoother you with kisses. Communication outside of the headquarters was denied much to Bucky’s dismay so instead of your melancholy voice he only got to hear annoying and unhelpful remarks from Sam through his com, who was tasked to watch his six.

He weaved his bike through the mostly empty streets, definitely faster than he was supposed to but eager to see you.

Walking up the steps to your shared apartment he couldn’t resist the giddy feeling welling up inside his chest, warmth spreading throughout his body. You and Bucky moved in together one year and three months into your relationship. Although it was his place too - you reminded him several times - he let you decorate it the way you wanted it, only throwing in a remark here and there.

He just loved the feeling of being surrounded by you - by the things you chose to include in the life you had with him. The couch, where you would cuddle up together, bundled in a blanket, limbs interlinked, watching a show together. The curtains, you would drag across the window to shield Bucky and you from the world outside. The flower pots littering your small balcony where you showed him how to take care of the plants after he drowned the azaleas last spring. Even the shoe rack where your sandals and sneakers were lined up right next to his boots reminding him of the life you shared. That this was real. That he had you and you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

That giddy feeling though left his body in an instant, with no resemblance of it ever being there. His heart sank to his shoes, even further but his brain couldn’t follow. He was feeling hot all of a sudden but nothing like the warmth that took hold of his heart just moments earlier. His mind was going haywire, wild eyes staring at his hand, which unbeknownst to him started shaking already. His key was still in his hand, ready to turn in the deadbolt of the lock, but all it took was a small push to open the door.

He didn’t realize he may be overreacting. Didn’t consider you could have just forgotten to lock the door. No. Unwillingly, his thoughts were clouded with the worst his mind could conjure up. This was New York after all. And he was the goddamn Winter Soldier for crying out loud. He did his best to make amends, trying to demonstrate that he isn’t the person people know him as but there will always be a few seeing him as the man Hydra trained him to be. He still got funny looks while walking the street, someone crossing the street when he approached and he noticed the sympathetic smiles people throw your way because they couldn’t seem to wrap their mind around how someone as sweet, compassionate, and gleeful can be with someone as him. He had trouble understanding that too.

So while it could have been a small mistake on your part Bucky was reeling at the easy access to your apartment. He shouldered his way into your home scanning the room and calling your name, a waver in his voice.

Nothing looked out of place, no evidence of a break-in. The fluffy white blanket was folded over the armrest of the couch. Piles of books were neatly placed in the bookshelf you built up together. Well, Bucky did, while you read chapter after chapter of the current book you were reading aloud. It took him two hours to build that shelf but not because he had difficulties. He just was afraid you‘d stop reading to him when he finished. Everything looked as it was supposed to but the nagging feeling didn’t let up and he chased down the corridor.

“Doll? Come on baby, where are you?”

He stalked into your bedroom, hoping to see you wrapped up in a warm blanket and reading a book or taking a nap waiting for him but he was met with the empty sheets arranged neatly. Through his panicked thoughts, he couldn’t make out the quiet creak of the door to your laundry room further down the hall and rushed footsteps coming his way.

“Y/n!”

He was shouting at this point, sheer panic lacing his voice and turning on his heels to check the other rooms.

“Buck-”

Bodys colliding, a yelp, Buckys arms shot out to steady you. You found your balance again shooting a concerned albeit bewildered look up at him.

“Buck, what’s going on?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out while enclosing his arms around you, tugging you against him. Relief flooded his body and he swayed you both a little still feeling wobbly on his legs and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while taking a big breath, filled with your scents. His hands roamed your body searching for anything that could indicate discomfort or pain.

You let him hold you for a few moments, feeling his chest heave with deep breaths, and only lightened your hold on him when his heartbeat evened out again. Without letting go completely you lifted your head and tilted backwards to study him better.

“What happened Buck?”

Your whispered concern got Bucky out of his mind and he opened his eyes to look down at you, the hold on you never faltering. He looked a little sheepish now, shaking his head in a small movement, and took a shuddering breath.

“The door wasn’t locked,” it came out with a rasp and he cleared his throat, eyes shifting a little before they met yours.

You furrowed your brows and turned your head in the direction of the door. A couple of seconds later it hit you. You got some groceries earlier today and got distracted by the beeping of the washing machine when entering the apartment. You just shut the door, put the groceries down, and moved Bucky's clothes to the dryer. You wanted them to be clean and dry for when he came back. Walking back you went straight for the groceries to store them away without sparing another glance at the door.

“Shit Buck, I forgot,” It was your turn to look sheepish. You grimaced, moving to meet his eyes again.

“Figures,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on your forehead, lingering there longer than needed, and caught your eyes again, sporting a serious expression this time.

“I’m not scolding you for forgetting baby, it happens, but I need you to lock that door,” he voiced in a whisper, blue orbs intently focused on you.

You sigh, breaking his eye contact, and nod heavily.

“I know Buck, I’m sorry,”

He shook his head, his flesh hand reaching up to caress your cheek and tilting your head to meet his eyes again. His lips met your nose, then your forehead, lingering there again, before holding your gaze and speaking softly.

“Don’t apologize doll, I just…,” He closed his eyes, hanging his head, trying to compose himself so as not to fall back into franticness.

“Hey,” Your soft voice and touch calmed him in an instant. Glossed-over blues met yours again and you brushed your lips over his in a sweet kiss. “I get it. I’m sorry I got you worried baby, won’t happen again. I promise!”

He leaned in to kiss you again angling your head to deepen it. It was slow and soft and you rested your forehead against his after pulling away.

“I missed you!”

He pulled you closer even though it was impossible, nuzzling his head against yours. His lips spread into a smile.

“I missed you too baby! So much.”

Your smile matched his. “You kill Sam yet?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, his body relaxing against yours, the tension in his shoulders leaving completely. He knew you tried to distract him and it worked. It’ll always work because you’re the only one able to ease his mind when his paranoia gets the better of him.

#bucky barnes x reader fluff #soft!bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes

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redheadspark · 3 months

Note

Hiiii can I request an az x reader or cassian whichever u want, they have a baby like 5 months old baby and they live in a cabin in the mountains by the lake and one day as yn and the bby are outside in nature a threat appears and there is a bit angst but ends up happy??? Thank u so much❤️

A/N - I LOVE this for my Alec series! Sorry, it took some time to write, but I hope you like it :D. This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Split

Summary - Cassian stops a potential threat against Alec.

Warnings - Angst with a slight mixture of fluff

"I'll be right inside if something happens or if he needs anything or wants—"

"You go, babe. Alec and I are fine. Right, kid?"

Alec giggled as Cassian tickled his side, Nesta saw how comfortable Cassian was with Alec as they were perched on a large blanket right next to the lake. With a kiss on Alec's head and a light kiss on her mate's lips, Nesta walked back to the cabin to get to work, leaving Cassian and Alec out by the lake to enjoy the sunshine.

Although you were more than capable of having your son with you, you know Cassian wanted to give you and Azriel some time alone and a mini break. Not that Alec was a time-consuming toddler, he was rather easy. Rhysand has even joked with you and Azriel that Alec was easier to handle than Nyx was as a toddler, but he meant well.

It was a warm day, quite warmer than usual in Velaris since the warm winds were now in Night Court. Tension between Night and Autumn Court was only a pinch better. Ever since Elaine and Lucien got married in a beautiful wedding in Night Court and held its reception in Autumn Court, both Rhysand and Beron were trying to make amends and head in the right direction. However, the main snag in that relationship was Eris, still in hot water since the comment about Azriel and his family. His duties with his father and as the Prince of Autumn Court diminished as punishment, commanded to be in stone silence during Elaine and Lucien's Mating Ceremony reception.

You and Alec stayed in Night Court during the reception that was in Autumn Court, a compromise you and Azriel made together since Elaine and Lucien wished for your family to be at the Mating Ceremony. Tension was still high for the Spymaster, and his son would not be caught in the crossfire when it came to Eris and his threats. It was a good enough plan, both yourself and Azriel didn't wish to make waves or cause chaos showing up in another Court with Alec exposed to others. When Azriel showed up to the Reception with Cassian and Nesta, Eris seemed rather peeved at the absence of yourself and your son.

Much to his dismay, but much to the amusement and satisfaction of Azriel.

Since then, you and Azriel made your lives normal for Alec. He was talking wildly now, though it was a few words here and there but willing to learn more. Cassian has offered to babysit him more and more since there was less of a need for him at the Illyrian camps. His soldiers were getting along quite well and thriving without him, his captains were exceptional leaders and the arguments were now at a minimum. It left Cassian to have more time with his family, particularly with his nephews Nyx and Alec. Both boys loved and adored being with their Uncle Cassian, the fun and lively Uncle who would play with them for hours on end and never get tired. It paired well with Aunt Nesta, who would read them bedtime stories and give them lots of snuggles when they were sad.

Today was Cassian and Nesta's day to watch Alec. Rhysand working at the River House with Azriel on spy information he received from Spring Court. Feyre, with Nyx in tow, asked for your assistance at the Community Center back in Velaris since you loved working alongside the locals and the needy. With Elaine and Lucien enjoying their newlywed life in their little cottage along the Night Court countryside, Cassian and Nesta were on babysitting duty.

Neither Nesta nor Cassian said anything, but they looked forward to watching Alec, as they did with Nyx. To them, it was almost a practice for them when they wished to expand their family. Nesta was not ready for a babe just yet, but she told Cassian she was open to the possibility of the future, which made Cassian's heart soar. He would wait years, long years, however long it took for her to be ready for motherhood. Even if maybe down the road she didn't want that life anymore, Cassian didn't mind at all. Her happiness, for all she endured, was his priority now.

"Alright, you wanna watch your uncle organize his blades?" Cassian asked playfully, Alec grasping the stuffed owl that his Aunt Nesta gave him and watching Cassian with wide eyes while Cassian rolled out his blades carefully on the blanket, "Don't worry, kid. You'll hold one of these in no time, but maybe not for a hundred years or two if I know your dad,"

"Dada!" Alec shrieked at the mention of his father, and Cassian laughed.

"Never thought I would live to see the day that the Shadowsinger fathered a child…no offense," He said to Alec, who was snuggling with his owl and watching a bumble bee hover by on a massive flower, "You know I love your dad like a brother…well, he is my brother. But he's still a mystery, even to your Uncle Cassian,"

He went to work on his blade, getting out each one to inspect them and see which one needed maintenance, He could hear Netsa working inside the Cabin, looking over some ancient books that Rhysand gave her to other information to use for their security in Night Court. Nesta and Rhysand's relationship was better than ever, both having respect for one another and love for one another as in-laws. Rhysand enlists Nesta to help in research since she traded most of her powers to the Cauldron to save Feyre and Nyx from death. Nesta admired Rhysand for being a great mate and father, no longer having that grudge or chip on her shoulder.

Cassian could see and feel high hopes for his mate.

Minutes went by as Cassian was going over every weapon, seeing his nephew out of the corner of his eyes walking around on his wobbly legs and exploring the shore of the lake. His wings were growing inch by inch, still against his backside while his raven black hair was a bit longer with thick waves and half in his face to cover his bright blue eyes. Things felt calm in the area, almost a bit too calm. Although there was magic instilled around the cabin and the area, Cassian knew better than to not have his guard up. No matter if there hasn't been a breach of security or a threat against Night Court, there could still be a looming threat that can start small and then explode.

He heard Alec walking along the grass, pausing in his weaponry inspection to watch his young nephew tread his way over to the end of the grass that led to the tall trees and the dense forest behind them. Cassian never once had to fear or worry over a certain area in Night Court, not even close to the Mountains and near the Illyrian Camp.

But something crawled under his skin, almost licking at his spine and sending almost a warning signal to him

He paused, placing his daggers on the quilt again as his eyes moved to Alec. His nephew was babbling to himself, reaching out to grab tuffs of grass in his fingers as the wind was picking up. He could pick up a few familiar scents: the crisp pines from the forest, the sweet grass, Alec's scent on the lotion Nesta put on his skin, and even Nesta's scent that was laced in pomegranate.

But there was something else…something bitter and crisp.

A flicker of movement in front of Alec, almost too quick amongst the dark trees that were swaying in the wind. Cassian's eyes saw it though, a snap of a twig and another flicker that was over to the left. It was no animal, not even deer were that fast or slick. Cassian's intuition and his Commander side were activated now as he was still watching his nephew look at the grass between his finger and attempt to nibble at it. But then the soft sound of something brushing a tree alerted Alec, making him stand up straight and look in that direction. Cassian saw how alert he was, even as a babe he stood still like a grown Illyrian.

His wings, though tucked in tight, showed some flickerings of…..shadows. Cassian then knew that Alec's own shadows he got from his father were alerting him.

Something's wrong

"Cass? Babe, how's going out there?" Nesta asked as she was coming out from the cabin with a washcloth between her fingers. But she saw her mate crouched down a bit, reaching for one of his daggers, and his eyes trained on the forest in front of Alec, who was whimpering a bit from his mini set of shadows that were now along his backside. Her eyes were on alert now, staring still in worry as Cassian gripped a dagger tightly in his hold.

Don't move. Cassian said in the bond to Nesta, sensing her fear and concern as his eyes were on the forest again. He was looking for the slightest movement amongst the dark branches and trees, knowing fully well that someone or something was there and so close to Alec, let alone the three of them in a secluded cabin.

When I tell you to, get Alec and get inside. Lock the door and do not open it unless it's me. Cassian commanded Nesta in his mind as his dagger was gripped hard in his grip. He was still searching, looking through every leaf and pine needle for a sign that his instincts were not wrong, that he was in fear of something that was indeed there and in front of his nephew in plain sight.

He then heard it, a low growl of sorts that seemed animalistic. Cassian threw the dagger instantly. The dagger flew past Alec's head, not close to hitting him but enough to leave him shaken as it launched into the pit of the forest. Cassian heard a yelp and a thud. He hit the target.

"NOW!" He yelled, grabbed another dagger, and started running towards the threat. He ran past Alec, who was whimpering in fear as Cassian knew Nesta was bolting towards Alec and scooping him up in her arms. Cassian didn't even have to look to know that Nesta was sprinting to the cabin with her nephew tight against her chest and locking the door behind her as he made it into the forest.

He could smell the blood as soon as he went past the first line of trees, and then he saw a body hunched over in the dirt and gasping for air as the dagger he had thrown seconds beforehand was sticking out of his chest. Cassian felt anger boil in him as he saw that this was no Night Court citizen, nor was it an Illryian Solider. He could see light hair, dark clothing the fae was wearing, even the weaponry strapped to his hip as Cassian grabbed the back of his head. He yanked his head back, eyes going wide in anger and rage seeing the auburn hair and the bright eyes.

Autumn Court.

"Where is he?"

"The master bedroom,"

Rhysand and Azriel entered the cabin in haste, Azriel leading the way as he was looking for his son with worry his shadows flicking in anger and Rhysand looking over at Cassian. Cassian was remaining calm, sitting at the dining room table with his hands laced together and brows knitted together. Nesta had Alec in the master bedroom, calming down with ease for the past few minutes while Cassian got in contact with Rhysand and Azriel about the close attack. He knew Azriel was not going to be calm when it came to his child, let alone Rhysand. Even Cassian was trying to calm himself down from going out to the fae who almost killed Alec and strangled him to death.

Instead, he tied him to a tree out near the lake, keeping the dagger in his chest for him to bleed out slowly.

A bundle was wrapped and in front of Cassian, his eyes drilled on the bundle while Rhysand walked over to him with his wing ready on high alert. Cassian could hear Azriel cooing and calming his son down, he knew Azriel was going to think twice about doing something to the fae with Alec in his arms. It was a safer bet for Azriel to hold his baby than to go out and kill the fae slowly and with pain.

"Rhys," Cassian said in a warning, Rhysand walking over to him and standing next to him in front of the table as Nesta walked out of the bedroom now, looking more somber and a bit relaxed now that her nephew had her father, "He had this,"

He gestured to the bundle, both Nesta and Rhysand looked in confusion as Cassian then reached for the top of the bundle to remove the fabric. Once he did, Rhysand's eyes went wide, and almost looked disgusted as the sight of a dagger was seen. Laced in orange and red gems along the hilt and handle, the steel did look rather too pristine and delicate. Cassian's eyes looked over at his High Lord, his face filled with anger and rage as he spoke.

"An Autumn Court Blade," Rhysand grimaced.

"You smell it too don't you?" Cassian asked in a low tone, Rhysand bitterly nodding his head as Nesta looked at her mate in confusion.

"Smell what?" She asked, her voice low and almost quivering. Rhysand and Cassian locked eyes, both of them remaining far too calm for the situation but they too were beyond angry.

"It's poisoned," Rhysand hummed, Nesta gasping and covering her mouth in shock. Cassian was shaking his head slowly, closing his eyes, and feeling bitterness deep inside of him that was also laced with guilt.

"I didn't know he was there, I didn't realize…" Cassian was muttering feeling like he was spiraling downwards since he was only thinking of how close Alec was to being hurt, let alone killed. If he was a second late, or a pinch too slow…

"You saved your nephew," Rhysand said to him immediately, placing his hand on Cassian's shoulder as he gave him a hard look, "You saved his life and you went with your gut. Alec is safe, you three are safe, and that's because of you, Cassian. Don't you fucking dare think less than that, understand?"

Cassian looked up at Rhysand, knowing that he was telling him the truth. Cassian always hated putting himself down and thinking he should have done better, he's done it in the past so many times. He would hide it with his jokes and banter, but he wanted to be perfect at times and prove himself. To hear from Rhysand that he succeeded, to know that he saved the life of his brother's son, was worthwhile.

"What about his mother and Feyre?" Nesta asked the pair of them, to which the front door opened again. You came running through, eyes wide and frantic as Feyre was right on your heels. You slid to a halt, seeing the scene in front of you: Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta sporting looks that were mixed in shock and anger, a dagger sitting on top of a bundle of rags. Your heart was beating rapidly and your mind was spinning over time.

"Where?!" You asked in a breath, Nesta knowing full well you were talking about Alec. She took your hand and led you to the bedroom, Feyre gliding over to her mate and Cassian as Rhysand took in a long breath to mostly control his own emotions.

"High Lord Beron needs to know this," Rhysand said aloud in the room, though Cassian shot him a look, "Those daggers belong to his high fae security and high ranking personal. It's not an Illyrian blade, and if he did this...."

"You think it was him…or a certain Prince with a Vendetta?" Cassian asked in a lower tone, Rhysand's let eyes darted to him immediately as Feryre looked worried.

"Eris wouldn't! To kill a child, a baby?! That's a death sentence, going against his father and this Court! He would be a fool to be behind it—" Feyre started to explain as Cassian gently interrupted her.

"Respectfully, Feyre, he's always been a fool. And if it's him behind this after all…nothing is going to hold back Azriel from tearing him limb to limb, or his mother. I won't hold either of them back, nor will your mate," Feyre's eyes shot to Rhysand, who was looking at the dagger again with a new heat of anger and rage in his eyes. Rhysand knew Cassian was right in that statement. If Eris was behind this attempt to harm or kill Alec, there was no force in Night Court, or beyond that, that would stop Azriel from killing Eris immediately.

"There's something else too, with Alec," Cassian explained, gaining the attention of the High Lord and Lady, "I saw shadows on Alec, along his wings just like Azriel. Small, but they were there. He's a Shadowsinger, like his father,"

"That makes him a bigger target now," Rhysand said in a tremor, the mood once again looking and feeling a bit grim with this new information. Azriel was the only Shadowwinger known, no other Court had one or knew of one except for him. He was coveted by other Courts and their High Lords for centuries to work for them, yet he remained with Night Court and his family. But now to know his son had his gift, it made his safety far more imperative.

Once word got out, the Courts will come for him.

Azriel came out of the bedroom, Cassian shooting up from his spot in the dining room and looking rather concerned at Azriel as he was approached by the Spymaster. Was Azriel going to hate him for almost having Alec in danger? Would he be angry at Cassian for the close call? How was he going to react as he stood in front of Cassian with a stone face? Cassian was about to say something to him, almost trying to explain it himself what happened.

But Azriel hugged him tightly, fiercely, as a brother would for another brother.

Cassian was in shock, but he hugged him back as Azriel was clinging to him and not letting him go for a long moment. Azriel was never one to be a hugger unless he was deeply and intensely moved by something. Cassian felt almost like collapsing, feeling that hug to his core as Azriel pulled away and stared at him with his hazel eyes.

Cassian knew that look on him since he had seen it. He saw it the first time they met as children and he took Azriel to meet Rhysand, he saw it when he taught Azriel how to fly to get strength in his wings.

A look of gratefulness and love.

"You saved my son," Azriel said calmly, though there were tears in his eyes as he stared into Cassian's soul, "Cass…I can't thank you enough for saving my boy. My world—"

"Hey, It's okay," Cassian urged him as he clasped Azriel on the back of his neck, feeling Azriel trembling as he gave him a nervous smile, "Az, I would do anything for him, for any of us. You guys are my family, okay?"

Azriel nodded, and although he seemed calm in front of Cassian, he knew the wheels turning in Azriel's mind. He remained calm in the moment, but deep down he was in a rage. The kind of anger that seeps in the pours and is almost like a poison to snuff out. Alec's life was almost taken in a split second, and there was no way and no force that was going to stop Azriel, or his mother for that matter, from inflicting harm on those who tried to take their son.

Azriel moved away from Cassian, walking back to the master bedroom with Rhysand and Freyre in tow. Cassie stayed behind, grasping the back of the chair and letting out a massive sigh of relief as Nesta left the room. Cassian could hear the group chatting together about what happened as she closed the door and walked to Cassian with worry in her eyes at her mate and his condition. Cassian's shoulders felt heavy and his mind felt like it was in a fog, all that adrenaline was gone and he could collapse at any moment.

So Nesta hugged her mate tightly, Cassian digging his face in her hair to inhale her scent and be centered again. There was peace again, his heart slowed down and his mind was back to being at ease with the calm words from Azriel and his mate holding him close. In his mind, he was thinking of what he did wrong and how he should have stopped the threat sooner. But to the others, he saved a little boy's life.

His eyes looked back to the dagger that was still on the table, and he felt his heart falling to his stomach at the sight.

It was a sign of conflict that had just begun.

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

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somekindofpoet · 9 months

Text

Oh!Dealer Pt III

Summary: Drug Dealer! R and Vada make amends.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Language, drug use

A/N: Crush lives!! This story is one of my favorites and of course, it's going to be the one to bring me back to writing again. This fic was strongly inspired by Euphoria and I was heartbroken to hear about Angus, so this one goes out to you Fezco

Part I Part II

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You spend restless nights staring at the duffel bag of drugs, watching it twist and morph into a fanged monster in the shadows. When you close your eyes, the guilt clenches around your stomach, viselike and unrelenting. Vada’s downturned mouth and secretly hopeful brows swim into view, never giving you a moment to just breathe.

You huff and rub your eyes. You’re exhausted, but you know you won’t be able to sleep. You pick up your phone, open it to the chat with Vada. Bite your lip as you think. You shake your leg and tap your finger against the side of your phone.

Truth is, you have no fucking clue how to make amends. You were being a real asshole the last time you saw her, and she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. You lock the phone and drop it on your stomach with a sigh. The duffel looms ominously in the corner and the clock in your head ticks away, precious seconds slipping by as you fail to even try to sell the contents.

You grit your teeth and resolve to deal with it tomorrow. No more hiding. Whisper and Noodle won’t be merciful if you fail to get their money to them on time. You’ll have to deal with the Vada situation eventually, but first, sell the damn drugs.

You’re finally, mercifully drifting off to sleep when a quiet clinking catches your attention. You grumble and roll over, pulling the comforter to your chin, unwilling to deal with whatever is making the sound. A few seconds pass and it’s there again. A clink against your window. Another second, another clink.

You crack your eyes open, brows furrowed and nostrils flared. Your eyes slip shut again, only to be wrenched open at a thump against the glass. Growling, you throw your blankets back and sit up, swinging your feet to the floor. With bleary eyes, you catch the source of the noise.

A pebble smacks into your window, making you jump back in surprise.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, your exhausted mind unable to piece together what’s happening.

You lean your head down, inspecting the glass when another pebble hits it. You grit your teeth, irritated now that you’ve realized what’s happening.

You rip the window open, and a tiny pebble hits you right between the eyes. Before you can even bark a curse out, you hear a gasp and a muffled giggle.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” A high-pitched half whisper cuts through the night.

You rub your forehead, squinting into the dark, “Vada?”

She materializes from the shadows, stepping forward into the planter outside your window, a sheepish grin on her face. Her arm awkwardly rises in a half-wave.

“I didn’t know you were gonna open it, sorry. Guess my aim is better than I thought.”

You cock your head to the side, unable to understand why she was now standing in your grandmother's poppies, “You know you could have just knocked on the window. It’s not like I have a second floor. Or texted me,” you add as an afterthought.

She shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

Under normal circumstances, now was when you’d close your window and wordlessly tell her to get out of your hair. But things are different now. A wave of relief and peace crashes over you just from seeing her in your front yard.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” You ask her, your voice still hushed.

She frowns and bites the inside of her cheek, “I thought you were mad at me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “No I just…” you sigh, looking up and down the street, “do you want to come in?”

She nods excitedly, hurrying over to your window, and starts to climb inside, pushing past you.

You shake your head, “I meant the front door, but sure, take the path of least resistance.”

You slide the window shut and turn to find Vada hovering awkwardly at the foot of your bed. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at her (you’re the one who should be feeling anxious) you gesture toward the bed granting her permission to sit. She kicks off her shoes and crawls into the bed like it’s her own, curling under the comforter and making herself comfortable with one of the pillows.

You smile softly to yourself and climb in next to her, grateful for once at her antics. She slides her hand over, her fingertips brushing the bare skin of your arm. Her eyes are wide, searching when you turn to look at her.

“Do you want to talk about your birthday?” She whispers, a strand of hair falling across her face.

You scrunch your face in apprehension, “Not really, but I guess you deserve an explanation.”

She shrugs a shoulder, her fingers slowly tracing a line of goosebumps on your arm, “You don’t have to. I overstepped by just showing up, I know you like your boundaries but I was just so excited-“

“No,” you say, turning to sit up on your elbow and look down at her.

Her face contorts from remorse into confusion, so you continue, “No I wasn’t upset about that. You just caught me on a really, really bad day V.”

“How bad?”

“Apocalyptic bad.”

She stays quiet, waiting for you to elaborate. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

“I…” you sigh, “I don’t want you to know how bad it is. It could put you in danger.”

Vada perks up, “I laugh in the face of danger!”

You roll your eyes, “Okay Simba. This is serious shit I’m in.”

“Drug stuff?”

You nod once, “Drug stuff.”

She’s quiet, her eyes searching your face as if she can find the answers to her questions there. A small frown plays on her brows, her hand fully reaching out to yours now. She looks down at her fingers intertwining with yours, then back at you.

“Tell me. I want to help you.”

Your face softens, “You can’t V. You shouldn’t even be here right now,” Vada opens her mouth to protest but you raise a finger, “But I am happy you’re here. I’m sorry. For the other day. You didn’t deserve that.”

She nods, “Forgiven.” She looks like she wants to press you further, but relents. “Can I stay the night?”

You should say no. You should throw her out your back door and tell her to run. Maybe pull a White Fang and throw a rock in her general direction. But you don’t. Instead, you nod, wrap your arms around her waist and quickly fall asleep breathing in the smell of her coconut shampoo.

——

Vada is gone when you wake up. You would wonder if her being there was a dream if it weren’t for the note resting on the pillow next to you. Her blocky handwriting is scrawled across the page, and you find yourself admiring how terrible the penmanship is before you actually read it.

“Had to get home before my parents woke up. See you at the party tonight? P.S. You snored like a caveman all night, hope you slept good! - V”

You read the note twice, hoping the snoring bit was a joke. If it wasn’t, you were going to choose to completely ignore it like it never happened. Knowing Vada, she’d happily remind you at the party.

Your eyes widen. The party. There was going to be an absolute rager at a frat house near the college a town over. Your eyes flit to the duffel bag, and you know exactly what you’re going to do.

——

Walking up to a mini mansion carrying several thousand dollars worth of drugs was not on your bingo card for this year. Usually, you kept things low key, a burner phone text and a handoff, simple. Easy. Not today.

The streetlights are just beginning to flicker on, but the youth of the night didn’t seem to hinder the chaos that was already in full swing as you walked up the block. Music thumped out of the open windows, laughter and screams mixing in with it. A handful of people hung around on the front porch, smoking cigarettes and stumbling around the front yard.

A few people recognize you and call out, promising to find you soon with pockets full of cash. You grin and nod at them, at ease with the fact that you were going to accomplish the impossible. No way you were leaving that house with a single elicit baggy in your possession.

You push through the front door and are immediately met with what can only be described as a barely contained riot. People are dancing in every empty space, a group is chanting around a beer pong table, and a keg sits in a chair in the living room like the guest of honor.

You scan the faces, looking for Vada. Pushing through the crowd of bodies, you continue your search but are forced to give up halfway to the kitchen. People are shoving money in your face, eyeing the bag on your shoulder. You shrug, figuring it can’t be too early to get started.

By the time you reach the kitchen, you have a significant wad of cash in your pocket and a hefty dent in your supply. You shove your way to the island, making yourself a strong drink from the collection of bottles strewn around. You wince as you take a gulp, scanning the chaos.

A squeeze just above your hip startles you, “I’m lookin' for trouble young lady, got any of that in your bag?”

You roll your eyes at Vada’s terrible deep voice impression and turn to look down at her, “If you’ve got the cash, I’ve got the trouble,” you reply, a playful grin pulling at your lips.

“Hi,” Vada chirps, stepping in to give you a hug.

Over her shoulder, you watch as the eyes in the room stray to the two of you, curious and surprised. You step back from her, leaving a hand on her shoulder.

“If you keep hugging me in public, you’re going to rank my reputation.”

A snort to your left turns your head. Vada’s friend Nick is there, eyes bright. His expression tells you he knows everything, and Vada’s sudden lip chewing and blush confirm it.

“Nick,” you say, nodding to him.

“Evasive Chopin-loving drug dealer,” he replies with a grin.

You smirk, bring a finger to your lips in a ‘ssh’ motion. He winks at you and slides past Vada into the beer pong shuffle.

Vada plucks at your arm, clearly wanting to touch you, but hesitant to overstep, “So,” she says, “how’s business?”

“Booming,” you grin, lifting the bag slung on your shoulder.

“And the danger?” She asks.

“Growing less lethal by the gram.”

She nods, “Think you can save a dime for later, once the shop has closed?”

“Oooh I don’t know, can you afford it?” You say, jabbing her with your elbow.

She rolls her eyes, “You need help?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, “I’ll come find you when I’m done. Go have fun.”

She nods, leans up on her toes, and kisses your cheek before laughing and fleeing into the crowd. You have half a mind to scold her for it, but you actually find it kind of sweet. After a brief moment of enjoying the feeling of your icy exterior thawing at the hands of Vada, you straighten back up. You have a job to do.

——

It takes a bit longer than you’d hoped to move it all, but a few hours into the night and your bag is now filled with cold hard cash instead of tiny plastic bags.

It doesn’t take you long to find Vada and Nick, once you’re done. You burst into the backyard, feeling like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted from your chest. You feel so accomplished, you allow yourself to laugh when you see Vada being held upside down by two extremely large football players with the keg spout in her mouth.

You saunter over next to Nick, who’s watching her with mock irritation that looks more like adoration. He side eyes you, and just his chin in her direction.

“She’s staying with you tonight. No way I’m letting her puke in my car again.”

You frown, “That is not something I signed up for.”

Nick snorts, “Read the fine print babe, your name is written all over her now.”

You tilt your head, watching Vada unceremoniously begin to shoot beer through her nose as the guys return her to her feet. She staggers over, coughing and wiping her mouth.

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite queers,” she drawls, a wild grin on her face.

Nick rolls his eyes and playfully punches her shoulder. Her drunkenness makes her bold, and she slips under your arm, wrapping one of hers around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You raise an eyebrow at her but allow it. You’ve been drinking too, and it’s effectively lowered your guard.

Vada pulls you over to a grimy set of couches near the pool, dropping onto it with you in tow. She chatters happily about nothing in particular, and you’re content to just listen to her nonsense. Eventually, her eyes light up and she leans into you.

“Did you save some weed?” She whispers conspiratorially, her eyes moving between yours and your bag.

You pull a tightly rolled joint from a small pocket in the bag, twisting it in your fingers, “It’s gonna cost you,” you say, your eyes glinting.

Vada’s eyes narrow, and after a moment she moves closer to you until she’s nearly in your lap. She leans over, her eyes traveling between yours, down to your lips and back up. Your heart begins to pound, excited that she understood what you hadn’t said. She leans over, you lick your lips.

With surprising speed, she snatches the joint from your fingers and leans back, belly laughing at her successful subterfuge. You glare at her, but hand over the lighter in your other hand and accept defeat. She lights the end, takes a drag, and coughs a little. You huff a laugh through your nose at her, and she drags on it again. This time, she leans over, presses her lips to yours, and exhales the smoke into your open mouth.

If she was trying to shut you up, she was successful. If she was trying to actually get high though, that was going to fail. You pull her over, falling backward on the couch with her. The duffel drops to the ground at your side, and you don’t see where the joint goes but before you know it both of Vada’s hands are on your face, pulling you into her lips.

You’re faintly aware of the cheers being shouted around you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You only want to focus on the softness of the body on yours, the tongue that skates across your lower lip, the hands that wrap gently around your jaw.

You let yourself go, falling into the comfort of knowing you won’t be brutally murdered in the next few days, and that this beautiful girl is kissing you like her life depends on it. Your hands wander, sliding down her back to her hips, pulling her as if she could get any closer to you. She sighs into your mouth, and your head is wonderfully foggy.

She pushes back, lifting herself to look down at you with low lidded eyes and a drunken smile. “Wanna get out of here?” She asks, and you nod, hazy and content.

You sit up with her, reaching down for the bag of money at your side. You sweep around without looking, and when your fingers fail to find what you’re seeking, the fog in your mind dissipates. Your stomach clenches, your heart racing again, unpleasant this time. You don’t want to look down at your feet. You can’t bare the possibility that the bag may be gone.

If you can’t see it, it can still be Schrödinger’s bag. Gone and there at the same time.

“You okay?” Vada asks, concern clouding her features.

“Vada,” you say, your voice cracking.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell me my duffel bag is not sitting at my feet.”

She glances down, her eyes widening, “Umm okay. I won’t tell you.”

“Vada.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gone isn’t it.”

Vada turns her head toward the party, frantically searching the crowd. She grimaces, bites her lip, and turns back to you.

“So…on a scale of one to ten-“

“Ten thousand Vada. Literally whatever the scale of my fucking life is.”

“Okay,” she says, raising her hand to pet your shoulder, “okay. We’ll find it. Let’s not go cataclysmic.”

You finally summon the courage to look down at where the bag should be. A single dollar lies on the ground. The bag is nowhere to be found.

“It’s been a good run,” you say, looking back up at Vada, “Wish we’d done this sooner.”

“We’ll find the bag,” she says, “We’ll figure it out.”

You lean over the back of the couch, scoop up the now squashed joint and drop back into the cushion. With a shaking hand you light it, inhale deeply, and silently kiss your ass goodbye.

#jenna ortega x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #vada x reader #oh!dealer

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spacedustpan · 2 months

Text

Hey Tennessee fandom people: the ELVIS Act getting ready to go through. It prevents you from using likenesses of Public Figures and their voices. It's Supposed to target AI of musicians and actors but it's written So Broadly that it can effect things like Political News Reporting, Political Parody, AMVs, Fan Edits, and of course Fan Art. It's not limited to Tennessee households either so a Hollywood company can relocate a headquarters or branch to Tennessee and use Tennessee law to sue people outside the state.

If you care about any of that, then look up your county's/district's representatives in the Tennessee Senate and House and start calling. It's headed to General Assembly.

Specifically the bill says - no one can use a famous person's likeness or voice without that actor's permission for the actors life plus 10 years - .

You can see how likeness and voice can be broadly applied and of course fans would never be able to get permission for fan content.

Surely you can see how this would affect amvs and fan edits on places like Instagram.

It would also affect things like Fan Art for Live Action Series.

This would limit free use for things like parody which would effect comedy too.

It's named after Elvis and claims to be for the entertainment industry but it's written so broadly so that it can be used by public figures in general. So Politicians would be covered under it.

Honestly politicians are trying to get this passed in Tennessee to limit the use of their own likenesses for things like memes because it's a fairly easy state to get ultra conservative bullshit passed.

Here's some more info from Real Clear Policy writer Hannah Cox:

Right of publicity laws typically include stringent, clear exceptions and only apply to advertising, merchandise, and fundraising purposes. Those exceptions are for “newsworthy” images in content that provides a “public interest,” which encompasses everything from hard news to documentaries, to satire, to celebrity gossip.

This is a fantastic structure that ensures an individual has a right to their own personhood while also upholding the First Amendment, its protections for free expression and freedom of the press, and ensuring the public has easy, fast access to information.

The ELVIS Act doesn’t include these provisions. As currently written, filmmakers would have to obtain permission from nefarious actors like Jeffrey Epstein’s estate in order to make a documentary about him. The producers of Forrest Gump wouldn’t be able to include all those scenes with historic figures.

That’s a really good way to protect powerful people from scrutiny. And it would severely stagnate the flow of information online as even obtaining such permissions could take weeks. Additionally, out of fear, many content creators would simply play it safe out of fear of litigation.

The ELVIS Act also does not limit its reach to those living or dead, nor does it restrict its parameters to those with a Tennessee domicile. This seems like an open plea for people to infiltrate the state with ridiculous lawsuits that wouldn’t make it past the first gate elsewhere. It’s almost like the trial lawyers associations wrote this bill instead of Hollywood unions.

But to be clear, this was brought to the Republican legislature by the music industry associations and Hollywood unions - a peculiar entity for conservative lawmakers to be carrying water for to say the least. What these entities really want is an end to Fair Use practices because they’re bleeding money, and instead of making better products or creating new revenue sources, they’re simply being lazy and attempting to restrict the market.

When you call: You're a concerned republican worried about how limiting AI can hurt small business and how the law should be written more specifically and Exceptions Should be included To Protect Fair Use for Non-Commercial, News, and Parody use, because all are integral to Free Speech.

The Law is Simply Too Broad the way that it's written now and it limits Facebook campaign support for Republicans if they have to get permission from Liberals to use their likenesses. It limits free speech which is integral to preaching God's good word against his disbelievers in a political setting and you won't stand by a politician that limits your freedoms like that. This is America Land of the Free and you'll be damned if you let someone step on you like that. That its Big Government infringing on your rights as an American instead of sensible small government.

If you dont live in Tennesse this will still affect you with the ways it's written. It doesn't take much for companies to set up "official" shop in a new state.

It will also ABSOLUTELY be used as the model for a much worse NATIONAL bill if it gets passed in Tennessee. Because Politicians will see that it already succeeded once and HollyWood and the Music Industry are two lobbies FLUSH with cash for bribes and campaign donations.

Mark my words this will absolutely bleed over into national politics which will be devastating for News Reporting and informing the populace which is ALREADY in awful shape.

#Tennessee #ELVIS Act #Jesus christ we're getting jumped from every fucking direction. this year is fucking terrible #KOSA #stop kosa #stop csam

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amongemeraldclouds · 17 days

Text

no take backs

As the earth collapsed around you, your sworn enemy decides to confess his feelings for you with a kiss. So when the world doesn’t end, what happens next?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ only MDNI, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, piv, v!fingering, reader has anxiety (only plays a small part in the story), earthquake (no injuries)

Author’s note: Based on this request then I expanded on the concept. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist | 2.4k words

“Just because I’m letting you drive me home, does not mean we’re friends,” you huffed as you climbed into the passenger seat of Jess Mariano’s beat up car. Vintage, he called it. You’d never admit it, but you found it cute how he was proud of it. To him, it was his key to freedom, going anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted. Except for when nature had other plans.

“Well, a coworker could take his other coworker home, okay?” He said, closing the car door as he slid his keys into the ignition and started up the car. You relent and gave him your address.

It was just your luck that the Earth’s tectonic plates decided to shift in ways that damaged your car, but not your mortal enemy’s. Perhaps it was karma and you were being encouraged to make amends with him in the name of world peace. Try as you might however, the word “peace” and Jess Mariano just did not fit.

It certainly did not feel peaceful being trapped in a car with him. Your cheeks blushed as you remembered how soft his lips felt against yours and the eager way they moved as if it was the final thing he would ever do in his life. And for a few moments back at the publishing house, tucked safely beneath a table while the world shook violently around you, you were both convinced it was your last moments.

It was confusing. The way your heart hammered and you didn’t know if it was from fear of dy*ng or the way his kiss invaded your entire being. From the moans it elicited from your throat, to the air it stole from your lungs, and the butterflies that rushed in your stomach. It was hard to tell if it really was just an earthquake or the mind-shattering truth that your enemy might not actually hate you at all.

Then it was over too soon. The air felt cold without him close to you and he was pulling you up from under the table.

“So we’re just not going to talk about it?” You asked, piercing the awkward silence.

Jess just shrugged and spoke casually, “talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. But he had no right confusing you with a kiss after constantly making your life a living nightmare.

“Jess, you kissed me,” you deadpan, addressing the elephant in the room. “Coworkers don’t kiss other coworkers.”

“A lapse of judgment in a life-threatening situation,” he dismissed, keeping his eyes straight on the road.

Your mouth curled, the sweet aftertaste of his kisses turning sour. You fumed in silence as you looked outside the window with unfocused eyes. You weren’t sure what you were more upset about: his denial or your disappointment - having to face the horrid fact that you also didn’t hate your enemy.

“Shit, the road’s blocked,” Jess drew you out from the thunder of your thoughts as you looked at the cars lined up ahead. It was like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic films you’ve seen and dread sank in your chest. Perhaps you should stick to watching cheesy rom coms because this pessimism was not helpful at all.

“Can we go somewhere else?” You whispered softly, anxiety bearing down your chest.

Jess looked at you with concern. “Sure, let’s find somewhere we can park until things get better,” he replied with an equally soft tone and you hated it because he knew all about your anxiety and penchant for panic attacks. You didn’t like being weak around him, not if he could be sweet and caring only to take it all back when you’re fine.

He parked the car in between buildings, sheltered from the wails of emergency response vehicles and the rush of people trying to go home. You exhaled after going through rounds of breathing exercises to calm your anxiety.

“My my, a secluded alley. Jess Mariano, whatever do you plan to do with me?” You quipped, mildly accusing him or m*rder when the other meaning dawned on you, something that made you blush. Well, it was too late to back out now.

He smirked, “whose to say you’re not the one who wants to do things with me with that line of questioning, huh?”

“I wouldn’t do anything if I was the only one who liked it,” you hedged. Perhaps life was too short to keep denying your feelings. If there was ever a better time to learn that lesson, it was now. You just needed him to admit he felt it too.

“I don’t like the idea of being k*lled, thanks,” he scoffed as he plastered on a smug smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you looked outside the window, an idea forming in your head.

“It sure is getting hot,” you comment innocently as you undid the top buttons of your blouse. Jess’ eyes followed your movement and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“Better get comfortable, right?” You said, adjusting the car seat to lean back and you felt your blouse open slightly to reveal your cleavage. You were not going to make it easy for him to deny his feelings.

“Stop that,” Jess demanded while his eyes told a different tale of desire and longing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied lazily. Two can play that game.

That’s right Jess, you thought, here’s a dose of your medicine. You continued, “this is much better.” You leaned your head back and stretched on the seat, aware of how your skirt inched up your legs.

You let out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure at thoughts of getting comfortable. If by comfort, you meant the satisfaction of derailing Jess’ denial and stubbornness. His eyes traced your legs then followed your chest when they rose and fell with your sigh.

Jess grunted and you bit back a smile. “Okay, fine. So I kissed you,” he admitted.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You said it meant nothing, so why would it matter?”

“I never said it meant nothing, I said it was a it was a lapse of judgment.”

“There’s a difference?” You raised your eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steeled himself. To Jess Mariano, telling the truth meant peeling back the layers of his sarcasm, which was as painful as stripping off his skin.

“You know when they say the world is about to end, you’d think your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could see was you. And it wasn’t just because you were in front of me. God, I closed my eyes, and all I could see was still you. Laughing at your own jokes, greeting everyone with a smile, typing away on your computer. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get to kiss you if that was the last thing I’d ever do, damn it. But then the earthquake stopped and we were fine.”

Your eyebrows creased as you let his words sink in. “Is it really so bad that we survived?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I don’t think I could ever survive you. You frustrate me because you’re just so…you! You’re not someone I could just kiss once and get out of my system. I’d always want more and then I’d inevitably screw it up. It was better that you hated me from the start.”

His eyes burned with untold stories of heartbreak and self destruction. Despite all the ways he infuriated you, you wanted nothing more than to hold him. You had a feeling you were just seeing who he truly was beneath his smug smiles and his devil-may-care attitude.

“Jess, I don’t hate you,” you confess. “Don’t just make it one kiss,” you continue, allowing yourself to be just as honest as him. “Have another one, and another, and heck - have all of me!”

He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wished for the stars and he was told he could have the whole damn galaxy. A spark of joy and hope ignited something wild in him that he no longer let himself think of past regrets and mistakes.

He inched towards you, looking into your eyes for permission and you bridged the distance in response, kissing him. It was fiercer than when you both thought you were on the brink of de*th, because this time, it was a celebration of life and the possibilities that lay ahead.

You felt it when he sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned in pleasure, a small sound for all the words you couldn’t say. How all those time spent hating him was just a shield from your admiration of the man who took destiny in his own hands and never let the world define him.

The man who wrote stories and downplayed them through luck and how ink fumes must have altered his publisher’s minds to pick him. He never once acknowledged his talent, but secretly you did with the way you underlined your favorite sentences and re-read his book as if his words could wrap you in a sweet embrace.

He always kept you at an arm’s length and made your life hell, but it was heaven just being beside him. And you never dared to admit it. Until now, when he’s unbuttoning your blouse as he unravels your secrets. His mouth moves to your neck, setting your body on fire.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?” You ask, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

Jess just smirked, his lips pink and swollen, hungry for more of your kisses. “That’s half the fun.”

You rolled your eyes but god - you needed him. “And the other half?” You asked, mirroring his smirk.

“This,” he just says as he resumes your kiss.

It’s agony when you pull away again just to alleviate your anxiety, “can we at least go to the back?” It’s not much, but it’s better than being right by the windshield.

“Spacious,” he nods, moving away so you could climb over to the backseat. You felt the heat of his stare behind you as you settled in.

He promptly followed suit until your bodies are tangled again with him laying you down the seat, careful so you don’t hit your head. You bring your hand to his stupid hair and run your fingers through it. His hands return to your blouse and your back arches on instinct when he unclasps your bra and he takes a moment to look at you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he squeezes your breast while he licks the other, planting soft tender kisses.

In his car, the sirens and chaos faded. You were consumed by Jess’ touch, both curious and possessive at the same time. His free hand traveling down your leg as he caressed it, slowly making his way to your inner thigh. You can’t help the way you squirmed beneath him as you held your breath in anticipation. In response, you palm his erection beneath his uncomfortably tight jeans and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He teased you through your panties and you open your legs for him as he moves the thin fabric aside to feel your soft folds. You bite your lip and try to stifle your moan, but Jess brings his mouth to your ear, “I need to hear you, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” You cursed in response, your mind swimming in a haze of euphoria.

His fingers send shockwaves of pleasure as he spreads your liquid heat, exploring your folds and paying attention to which sensations left you whimpering. He exploited them skillfully, rubbing and teasing, eager to make you a moaning mess for him. You gasped when he plunged his fingers inside you and you arched your back, needing him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he admires as he pumped his fingers in and out. You moved your hips against his hand, needing more of him. He was finally here, doing things you used to just dream about, secrets stashed beneath soft covers in your moonlit bedroom.

“Jess, please. I need to feel all of you,” you begged and his eyes darkened.

“I’m all yours,” he replied as he removed his fingers and cleaned them off with his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You helped him free his hard length and you don’t stifle the needy moan that escapes you this time when he fills you up. He takes a few slow movements before building up to a steady pace, the delicious friction making your toes curl. “You feel amazing, Jess,” you tell him.

He kissed you as he rocked his hips into you, a clash of teeth and tongue. There was nothing gentle in the way you moved against each other, it was pure want and longing crashing into each other. It was months of fantasies finally coming true and desires unleashed building in your core.

The car moved along with you, giving you extra leverage to find your rhythm. The irony was not lost on you that as the world shook around you once again, things were falling into place this time.

Filthy, desperate whimpers escaped his lips and you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper inside you. He squeezed your breast in response and teased your taut nipples, eager to worship all of you. You closed your eyes when you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” Jess tells you instead and so you do. You see the lust and passion in his eyes and it’s enough to unravel you. Little earthquakes of ecstasy erupt through you as you shuddered against him. He increases his pace, eager to coax every last aftershock of your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before you feel his release warming your insides. He rests his head in the crook of your neck as he recovers his breath.

When he pulls out, you swipe his spilled seed from your leg and bring it in your mouth, enjoying the salty taste. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Jess breathes out.

You grin. “So this happened. You gonna deny it?” You challenged him as he held you.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This happened. You’re mine and I’m yours. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” you echoed as you leaned in for another kiss.

It was perfect. The world could end at that moment and you would not mind at all.

Still you were glad to stay alive. Because then, you could always go another round, and another. So it goes.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist

#jess mariano smut #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #gilmore girls #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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arealphrooblem · 10 months

Note

Hi!! First off I just want to say that this is my new favorite writing blog on tumblr!! I'm so grateful for whatever strings the universe pulled that led me here. I'm literally addicted to every single thing you've written here. I swear I've read Mutually Assured Destruction like ten times within the past 24 hours.

I was wondering, if you find the free time and the inspiration, if you could write a villain x medic/civilian snippet? Maybe Medic accidentally witnessed villain's crime so villain can't let them just wander around freely since medic works for the hero agency, but also doesn't want to kill medic since medic is useful?

Thank you so much! I've always loved the idea of Villain x Medic so here you go!

CW: Kidnapping

“You know my face.”

The medic knew this day would come. Still, they froze in the doorway of the living room, keys dangling in their hands, blood frosting over in sheer dread. The villain sat with their legs crossed in the medic’s favorite armchair, the fire place unlit. The room in semi-darkness, the only light a glow from a street-lamp.

They didn’t ask how the villain knew their address. They should have taken Hero’s offer to leave under witness protection, but their whole life was built here. They couldn’t just leave and start over.

“I haven’t revealed it,” the medic said.

“Yet,” the villain amended. “I’m sure you would for the right price. Or under the right pressure.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But I am not going to risk it.”

The lamp beside the couch switched on. The medic flinched away from the sight, eyes trained on the coat rack by the door. As if mattered anymore if they saw the villain’s face again. As if they hadn’t doomed themselves the first time.

Footsteps creaked over the old wood floors. The medic took slow deep breaths, holding it for four counts and releasing it. A trick they had taught people afraid of IV needles to calm their racing heart.

The time to run had long since passed. And even if it hadn’t, the villain most definitely had people outside lying in wait for such an escape.

Hands that tipped the medic’s chin to meet that dangerous gaze.

“You’re going to kill me,” the medic said. It was not a question.

An eyebrow raised. “You sound very calm about that.”

“My career has taught me how to recognize and accept things that aren’t in my control. Right now there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

“This is true.”

The villain studied them, thumb brushing absently against the curve of their bottom lip. The darkness of their eyes felt unfathomable, like the Marianas Trench. Like the deepest part of the ocean, full of wonder and terror.

“I am not going to kill you,” the villain said finally. “I owe you my life. And I always repay my debts. But you know my face.”

The medic swallowed thickly against the barrage of options that opened up. The villain could blind them, torture them into insanity, cut out their tongue. All of the above. The villain’s hand slips across their cheek to cup the back of the medic’s head. A possessive gesture, they noted with a shiver.

“You are coming with me. Whether it be conscious or unconscious, I leave up to your . . . control.”

Relief warred with new fear. “Where are you taking me?” they asked. “What happens to me when we get there?”

“Questions I will happily answer in the car,” said the villain, their hand sliding down the medic’s

neck before retreating. “Hand me your phone and your keys and then go pack your things. You have ten minutes.”

The medic stood rooted to the spot. This was real, this was happening. And it yet it still felt like a bad dream. Ten minutes to pack their life up? Ten minutes?

“Tick tock, darling,” crooned the villain, holding their hand out.

Numbly, the medic dropped their phone and keys into the villain's hand and took robotic steps towards their bedroom. Clothes were easy to grab and stuff into the suitcase. As were their birth certificate and other identity papers. Personal items, less so. Medic spent precious minutes at their bookshelf, picking a well thumbed classic from their childhood, their most referenced medical texts, and a novel they hadn’t started yet.

The pressure of time throbbed in the back of their head, making it difficult to think rationally about what they needed. They ducked into the bathroom, grabbing their contact case and solution, their toothbrush. Then they stood in the middle of their bedroom, frantically trying to think of what they couldn’t live without.

“Times up.”

The villain’s voice came from behind, causing the medic to jump out of their skin.

“Zip it up and let’s go.”

The villain’s car lay hidden in the shadows of the back alley. A dangerous looking driver waiting for them, their cigarette glow the only light. The villain opened the backseat of the car for Medic with a mocking flourish.

It was their last opportunity to run, but the medic knew a shot in the back waited for them if they tried it. So, dread sitting heavy in their stomach, they climbed in. The villain took the seat next to them, giving out curt orders to the driver in a language the medic didn’t recognize.

The nagging horror that the medic forgot something important haunted them. They leaned their head against the window, mentally walking through their house, trying to remember. But the fear churning in their blood made it so difficult.

“I’m taking you to my compound,” said the villain, almost conversationally. As if detailing the itinerary for a date. “I have a room set up for you, as well as a med bay. You can resume your work taking care of my mercenaries.”

The medic listened with half an ear, watching the wave of street lamps pass them by. What were they missing?

“No objections to that?” the villain asked, bemused.

They passed a park, one the medic had many birthday parties in as a child, and the sudden zing of memory made them gasp.

“Stop! We have to go back!” they cried.

The driver didn’t so much as flinch.

“Go back?" The villain laughed. "Too late for that, doctor. You should have protested before you climbed into this car."

"I forgot something!"

"Whatever it is can be replaced," the villain said with a dismissive wave of their hand.

"It's not replaceable. Please."

Desperation clawed at their throat but the villain remained unmoved.

"If it were so important, one would think it would be the first thing you packed, not the first thing you forgot. You will have to learn to live without it."

The medic closed their eyes the rest of the journey. They couldn't bear to look at Villain's face.

"Do you regret it?"

The villain sat upon the examination bed, looking almost innocent.

It had been a week since the medic was taken. Their life had changed so drastically that the normality of the med bay, of the tools they had spent years around, clanged like a discordant note. They threw themselves into their work, demanding physicals for the Villain's mercenaries to establish a baseline of health. These people, so used to sewing their own wounds, grew awkward around the medic’s soft and attentive care. Some refused to come.

The villain showed up last, a new laceration on their ribs. They sat, spine straight and unflinching as medic carefully cleaned the wound and bandaged it.

"Regret what?" the medic asked.

" . . .Saving my life."

Their hands stilled for a moment, hovering over the wound. It was a tricky question and the medic wasn't sure how to answer it honestly.

"I would have regretted the person that I'd become if I had let you die," they said finally.

"Oh? Most people would consider it a net positive, preventing all my future damage."

"It's not up to me to decide who deserves to live and who doesn't."

"I beg to differ. You hold people's lives in your hands every day. Who else, if not you?"

The medic glanced up at the villain, who stared at them with open-faced fascination, rather than the usual dispassion.

"I don't think any one person should have that power," they said pointedly.

The villain smiled, a slow curving movement. "A pity. You could be terrifying indeed."

The medic swallowed something strange dancing in their gut. "You're lucky I'm not."

"Indeed I am."

They finished the examination without further conversation. The villain watched with quiet fascination as the medic sterilized their tools, folded unused bandages away, updated the Villain's medical records.

"What did you leave behind?" they asked softly.

"My life," the medic said, tersely, as they tapped on the keyboard.

The villain was undeterred. "What did you remember in the car?"

The medic paused at that, unsure if they should answer. They didn't want the villain's mockery over it. But lies rarely went over well with the villain -- the medic had cleaned up the wounds left behind from that.

"A box under my bed," they replied, keeping their eyes locked on the computer. "It had my keepsakes in it. Family photos, birthday cards, that sort of thing."

"Sentiment," the villain said skeptically. "That's what got you so worked up?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," they snapped, standing up.

The villain watched them leave and the medic felt their gaze like a laser all the way down the hall.

Two days later a painfully familiar box sat on the examination table. Scribbled in sharpie on the cardboard was a message:

I do understand.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #villain x medic #my writing #asks #writeblr

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lila-lou · 1 month

Text

✨Beyond saving - Pt. 4✨

Summary: I hate summaries, so this is part 4 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Mention of rape, Language, Angst, Hurt

Word Count: 5158

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Sam’s protective instincts kicked in as he surveyed the scene before him, his muscles tensing as he prepared to defend you against any perceived threat. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Dean, a mixture of anger and concern flashing in their depths.

“What did you do?”, Sam demanded, his voice laced with accusation as he took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Did you hurt her again?”.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock at Sam’s accusation, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender as he took a step back. “No, Sam, it’s not what you think”, he protested, his voice filled with urgency as he tried to diffuse the situation.

But Sam wasn’t convinced, his gaze flickering between you and Dean as he searched for any sign of deception. “She’s crying!”, he growled. “And you leaving in a hurry. What am I supposed to think?”.

Dean’s heart sank at the accusation, the weight of his past mistakes bearing down on.

“Sam, I swear, I didn’t hurt her”, Dean insisted, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. “Not this time”.

Sam’s eyes softened slightly at Dean’s words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. He knew how much Dean regretted his past actions, how much he had tried to make amends for the pain he had caused.

Dean's heart clenched as he glanced at you from the side, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and regret. He knew that he had hurt you deeply, that his past actions had left scars that may never fully heal. But despite his best intentions, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him from within.

"M'sorry", he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he turned to leave the room. "I… I just need some fresh air".

With a heavy sigh, Dean stepped out into the hallway. As he made his way outside, he couldn't help but wonder if there would ever come a day when he could truly make things right, when he could finally find redemption for the pain he had caused.

Sam handed you one of Dean's shirts, his gaze averted as he respectfully turned his back to give you some privacy. As you quickly slipped into the shirt, you felt a pang of sadness wash over you, the fabric still carrying the faint scent of Dean's cologne.

"What happened?", Sam asked gently, his voice filled with concern as he turned to face you once more. "Are you okay?".

Your heart felt heavy with anxiety and uncertainty as you tried to find the right words to explain what had just happened. "I don't know", you admitted, your voice trembling slightly as you fought to keep your emotions in check. "I thought… I thought we were okay, but then he…".

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence as the weight of your own self-doubt threatened to overwhelm you. Was it something you did? Something you said? The thought that this might be your fault sent a wave of guilt crashing over you, leaving you feeling more lost and confused than ever before.

Sam’s brows furrowed with concern as he waited for your response, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

“Are you sure Dean didn’t hurt you?", he pressed gently. “I know things haven’t been easy between you two, but I need to know if he’s crossed a line”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you met Sam’s gaze. “He didn’t hurt me”, you assured him, your voice firm despite the lingering doubts that clouded your mind.

Sam nodded, his expression softening with relief. “Okay”, he said, his voice tinged with gratitude as he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. “Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what”.

You thanked Sam for his support, as he gave you some space. With a nod of gratitude, Sam left you to find Dean, his footsteps echoing softly in the hallway as he made his way out of the room.

Sam found Dean leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, his expression heavy with guilt and regret. Sam approached him slowly, his footsteps cautious as he stopped beside his brother.

“So that’s your kind of getting fresh air, huh?”, Sam asked, his tone laced with gentle sarcasm as he gave Dean a knowing look.

Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he avoided Sam’s gaze. “I messed up, Sam”, he admitted, his voice tinged with self-loathing. “I just… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t… be with her, not after everything”.

Sam’s brow furrowed with concern as he listened to Dean’s confession, his heart aching for his brother’s pain. He could see the turmoil etched on Dean’s face.

“Dean, you can’t keep punishing yourself like this”, Sam said gently, his voice filled with empathy as he placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You were under the influence of the Mark. You have to let go of the past and forgive yourself”.

Dean’s jaw clenched with frustration as he struggled to contain his emotions. “I know, Sam”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But every time I’m in this fucking kitchen, all I can think about is… what I did to her. It’s like I can’t escape the memories”.

“I get it, Dean”, he said softly. “But you can’t let those memories define you. You’re more than your past mistakes. You have to believe that”.

Sam paused, his gaze turning serious as he met Dean’s eyes. “You need to talk to her, Dean”, he said firmly. “You need to tell her that she didn’t do anything wrong. She needs to hear it from you”.

Dean’s frustration boiled over as he listened to Sam’s words of encouragement. Anger flashed in his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m a fucking loser, Sam”, Dean muttered bitterly, his voice tinged with self-disgust. “I couldn’t even do that one stupid thing right. I couldn’t even stay hard for her”.

Dean's admission hung heavy in the air, his words echoing with the weight of his own self-condemnation. As the reality of his own shortcomings settled over him, he felt a wave of shame wash over him like a suffocating tide.

"Dean, you're not a loser", Sam reiterated gently. "You're just struggling right now. It's okay to feel frustrated and disappointed, but you can't let it consume you".

But Dean couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that gnawed at his insides, the knowledge that he had failed in the most intimate of moments burning like a brand on his conscience. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw set in a tight line as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"But it doesn't change the fact that I let her down. I let myself down".

Sam's heart went out to his brother, the pain and self-loathing etched on his face like a roadmap of past mistakes. He wanted nothing more than to ease Dean's burden, to show him that he was worthy of love and forgiveness.

Dean pulled himself away from Sam's comforting touch, a heavy sense of defeat weighing on his shoulders as he reached for a bottle of whisky on the nearby table. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the bunker, the weight of his own guilt and self-doubt dragging him down with every step.

Sam watched him go, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He felt powerless, unsure of how to help his brother or mend the broken pieces of your fractured relationship. The rift between you and Dean seemed wider than ever, and Sam couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at his insides.

As he sank onto the nearest chair, Sam couldn't help but wonder if there was anything he could do to bring the two of you back together, to heal the wounds that still lingered between you.

As the night fell and Sam drifted off to sleep, you found yourself wandering through the bunker, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your mind. After a while of searching, you finally found Dean sitting in your shared room, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You hesitated in the doorway, the air heavy with the scent of whiskey. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed and shoulders slumped, lost in his own world of pain and regret.

For a moment, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say or do. The distance between you felt insurmountable.

"Dean?", you called out softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped further into the room. Your heart clenched with uncertainty, unsure if he would even respond to you in his current state of intoxication.

Dean lifted his head at the sound of your voice, his eyes bloodshot and glazed with the effects of the alcohol. His gaze met yours, a mixture of surprise and resignation flickering in their depths.

You took a tentative step closer, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. "Are you okay?", you asked, your voice trembling with concern as you reached out a hand towards him.

Dean chuckled darkly, a bitter edge to the sound as he shook his head in disbelief. "Why the hell are you asking me that?", he muttered, his voice tinged with sadness and self-loathing. "If anyone should be asking if you're okay, it's me. I'm the one who screwed everything up, who couldn't even… couldn't even…".

His words trailed off into a heavy silence, the weight of his own failures bearing down on him. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze as shame and regret washed over him in waves.

You knelt down in front of Dean, your eyes searching his for any sign of comfort or reassurance. Before you could utter another word of apology, Dean cut you off, his voice firm and resolute.

"Stop apologizing", he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "You did absolutely nothing wrong".

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, easing the ache of guilt and self-doubt that had been gnawing at your insides.

Dean reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands as he looked into your eyes with sincerity and affection.

"You're absolutely breathtaking, gorgeous, and hot", he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "And it could never be your fault. You hear me?".

His words warmed your heart, melting away the last remnants of doubt and insecurity that lingered within you

You carefully asked, your voice barely above a whisper, “Then why did you stop?”.

Dean’s expression softened, a mixture of regret and sorrow flickering in his eyes as he searched for the right words. His hands slowly sinking from your face.

“It’s not you, it’s me”, he admitted, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “I just… I couldn’t get out of my own head, couldn’t shake the memories of what I’ve done”.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to speak again, your voice barely above a whisper as you voiced the suggestion that had been lingering in your mind.

“Maybe… maybe we should start with just sharing the bed tonight”, you suggested, your words tentative yet filled with longing. “We don’t have to do anything more than that. Just… be close to each other”.

Dean’s eyes met yours, a mixture of relief and gratitude shining in their depths as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah”, he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I’d like that”.

You stood up, feeling a sense of tentative hope blossoming within you as you reached out and took Dean’s hand. With a silent understanding passing between you, you led him towards the bed, each step bringing you closer to the intimacy and connection you both craved.

As you settled beneath the covers together, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, Dean pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The tension that had hung between you slowly melted away, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness and familiarity.

As you nestled against Dean's chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and looked into your eyes with a tenderness that took your breath away.

"I love you", he whispered, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. "I always have, and I always will".

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion that flowed between you. With a shaky breath, you reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers trembling with the intensity of your feelings.

"I love you too, Dean", you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion. "More than anything in this world".

A few hours before, Sam sat in the library, his brow furrowed with concern as he dialed Jodie's number, hoping that she could offer some guidance or support in the midst of the turmoil that had engulfed you and Dean.

"Hey, Jodie", Sam greeted her, his voice filled with urgency. "I was hoping we could talk. It's about (y/n) and Dean. I think they could really use someone to talk to".

Jodie listened attentively, her expression thoughtful as she processed Sam's words. "Of course, Sam", she replied, her voice filled with compassion. "I'd be happy to talk to them".

Sam nodded, even though Jodie couldn't see him over the phone. "Can you come over tomorrow?".

Jodie agreed, promising to be there for you and Dean when you needed her most.

As the next morning arrived, you felt Dean's gaze on you, his eyes filled with tenderness as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His voice was soft as he mumbled a gentle "morning".

As you opened your eyes and met Dean's gaze, the memories of the awful night came flooding back, sending a jolt of anxiety coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but recoil slightly, the weight of the past bearing down on you once again.

Dean's heart clenched at the sight of your reaction, his own pain mirrored in your eyes. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air as if unsure of whether to touch you or not.

As you reached out to him, your hand trembling slightly, your fingers lightly grazing his lightly bearded cheek, Dean's tired eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the warmth of your touch, a surge of emotion coursing through him at the sight of your soft smile.

Leaning forward, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tentative kiss. The sensation of your lips against his sent sparks flying through his veins, igniting a fire deep within his soul. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the sweetness and warmth of your embrace.

For a moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of your shared desire.

As you pulled back slightly, your breath coming in ragged gasps, you couldn't help but notice the dark circles under Dean's eyes, evidence of a sleepless night spent wrestling with his demons.

"Did you even sleep for an hour?", you asked softly, concern lacing your voice as you brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. "You look exhausted".

Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping with fatigue as he met your gaze. "Not really", he admitted, his voice tinged with weariness. "But being with you like this… it's the only thing that makes me feel alive".

Your heart clenched at his words, the depth of his longing and desire mirrored in his eyes.

Dean carefully pulled you on top of him, his touch gentle and tentative, as if he feared breaking you with his grasp. He looked up at you with a mixture of desire and uncertainty, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"You can stop me whenever you want", he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and restraint.

As you straddled his hips, Dean sat up slightly, his hands brushing over your thighs with a delicate touch. You could feel the warmth of his palms against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your body. His gaze never leaving yours, he searched for any indication of what you desired, his own desire simmering just beneath the surface.

With a hesitant yet eager energy, Dean leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment, every sensation. As his hands continued to explore your body with gentle caresses, you felt yourself melting into his touch, your own desire building with each passing moment.

You felt Dean's growing arousal beneath you, a silent testament to his longing and desire. It pulsed against you, matching the rhythm of your own racing heart. Your hands tangled in his hair as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the world fading away as you focused solely on the sensation of his lips against yours.

As the kiss deepened, Dean's breath grew ragged, his desire palpable in the air between you. Breaking the kiss, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

"You want to try again tonight?", he asked softly, his voice filled with a combination of hope and apprehension. He wanted nothing more than to show you his love, to erase the pain of the past and build a new future together.

You met Dean's gaze, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity shining in his eyes. With a small smile, you nodded in response to his question, your own heart filled with a mixture of hope and anticipation.

"Yeah", you whispered softly. "I would like that".

Dean's eyes softened at your words, a wave of relief washing over him as he pulled you close, savoring the feeling of your body pressed against his.

"I love you", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

As you melted into his embrace, the warmth of his love enveloping you, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. His arms wrapped around you felt like a safe haven, a refuge from the storms of the past.

"I love you too", you whispered softly.

After a while, Dean's stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between you. You chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his laughter as you looked at each other.

"I think that's our cue to eat something", you said, your voice playful as you gently teased him. "We can't let those stomachs go empty, can we?".

Dean grinned, the sparkle returning to his eyes as he nodded in agreement. "Definitely not", he replied. "I'm starving".

You both getting up from the bed, and making your way to the kitchen.

You felt Dean's arms wrap around you as you stood at the kitchen counter, preparing sandwiches. His touch was gentle, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting embrace. His whisper tickled your ear as he spoke softly, declaring his love for you in a tender, heartfelt manner.

"I love you", he murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine as you leaned into his embrace. But then, as his arms encircled you, you couldn't help but tense up. It was the first time since that one evening—the evening when everything changed—that you found yourselves in the kitchen like this, sharing a moment of intimacy that was both familiar and fraught with memories.

Dean sensed the subtle shift in your body, the tension that crept into your muscles despite his efforts to comfort you. His heart sank at the realization that even though he longed to recapture the closeness you once shared, there were still barriers between you that he couldn't seem to breach.

"I'm sorry", he whispered softly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I miss us, you know?".

You turned around slowly, meeting Dean's gaze with weary eyes, the weight of your shared history hanging heavy between you. His beautiful green eyes searched yours.

"I'm trying, Dean", you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to touch his cheek gently. "I want to move forward, to find our way back to each other. But it's hard… so hard".

You felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the ache in your heart threatening to overwhelm you.

As Jodie and Sam entered the kitchen, you and Dean exchanged surprised glances, not expecting to see them at this hour. Especially not Jodie.

Jodie's warm smile and Sam's reassuring presence instantly put you at ease, their arrival bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity to the room.

"Morning, you two", Jodie greeted cheerfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she took in the scene before her. "Hope we're not interrupting anything".

Dean chuckled softly, his tension easing slightly at Jodie's lighthearted tone. "No, not at all", he replied, offering her a small smile. "Just making some breakfast".

Sam nodded in agreement, his gaze flickering between you and Dean with a knowing look. "We thought we'd join you", he added, his voice warm with affection. "If that's okay".

You nodded in response to Sam's suggestion, a sense of gratitude washing over you at the thought of having them join you for breakfast. As you continued making sandwiches, Dean stepped in to help.

Jodie and Sam watched from the table, their eyes filled with warmth as they observed the two of you working together in the kitchen. Jodie couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity.

"So, how did you two sleep?", she asked casually, her tone light yet filled with genuine interest. "I hope you're feeling better today".

Dean glanced at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're doing okay", he replied. "Thanks for asking".

Jodie's curiosity seemed to veer into more intimate territory as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with interest.

"So, how's your… intimate life?", she asked, her tone gentle yet probing as she delved into the details of your relationship with Dean.

You couldn't help but tense at the question, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Dean's expression hardened, his gaze shooting daggers at Sam.

"Why the hell did you tell her about that?", Dean demanded, his voice laced with annoyance as he shot Sam a glare.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, realizing he may have overstepped a boundary. "I was just trying to help", he explained. "I thought she might be able to offer some insight or advice".

Jodie raised an eyebrow at Sam's explanation before turning her attention back to you and Dean. "Well, if you're not comfortable talking about it, that's okay", she said reassuringly.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration wash over you. Your shoulders slumped as you continued making sandwiches, your back still turned to Sam and Jodie.

Dean turned around to face them, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was angry and annoyed, but his voice was surprisingly gentle as he addressed Jodie and Sam.

"I appreciate your concern, but some things are better left between us", he said, his tone firm yet understanding. "We'll figure things out on our own".

Sam nodded in agreement, chastened by Dean's response. Jodie offered an apologetic smile before changing the subject, sensing the tension in the air.

Dean's sense of shame deepened as he realized that more people knew about his past actions, intensifying the self-loathing that already gnawed at him. Carefully, he placed a hand on your back, seeking some solace in your presence.

"Are you alright?"he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern as he felt you shudder at his touch.

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself as you turned to face him. "I'm okay", you replied, forcing a small smile despite the turmoil swirling within you. "Just… a lot to process".

You placed plates in front of Sam and Jodie before turning back to the kitchen island to nibble at your own sandwich, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tension in the room.

Jodie's voice broke the silence, her tone hesitant yet curious. "Won't you two come sit at the table?", she asked, gesturing towards the chairs around the dining area.

Dean's jaw clenched, his expression hardening as he shook his head firmly. "No, we won't", he replied tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Sam gave Jodie an intense look, a silent communication that made her realize why you two were hesitant to sit at the table. Her eyes widened in understanding as she muttered, "Oh no".

With a heavy heart, she apologized to the two of you, her voice filled with genuine remorse. But before she could say anything more, Dean pushed himself away from the kitchen island, his movements tense and agitated. Without a word, he left the room, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way towards the garage, seeking solace in the solitude of his own thoughts.

Feeling overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. As they streamed down your cheeks, Sam approached you with understanding in his eyes. Without a word, he enveloped you in his large arms, offering you the comfort and support you desperately needed.

You buried your face against his chest, letting out all the pent-up anguish and sorrow that had been building inside you. In the safety of Sam's embrace, you allowed yourself to release the flood of emotions that had been threatening to consume you.

Jodie's voice broke through the haze of your tears. "I'm so sorry", she murmured, her tone heavy with regret. "I'll go talk to Dean".

As she made her way towards the garage, you couldn't help but wonder what would come of their conversation, and whether it would bring any resolution to the tensions that had arisen.

Jodie approached Dean cautiously, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet of the garage. She could see the tension radiating off him, his shoulders hunched in defeat as he sat with his head bowed. With a heavy sigh, she lowered herself to the ground beside him, giving him a moment of silence before speaking.

“Dean”, she began softly, her voice filled with compassion. “I’m sorry about what happened back there. I had no idea…”.

Dean lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and weary as he looked at Jodie. “It’s not your fault”, he muttered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m the one who screwed everything up”.

Jodie reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“Listen to me, Dean”, she said firmly, her voice unwavering. “You may not have parents anymore, but I’m here for you. I’m the closest thing you’ve got, and I won’t let you blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault”.

Dean’s gaze flickered with uncertainty, the pain etched on his face evident for all to see. But Jodie wasn’t about to let him wallow in self-pity.

“You were a demon, Dean”, she continued, her voice growing more insistent. “You weren’t yourself. You were under the influence of something beyond your control. It’s not your damn fault, do you hear me?”.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Jodie cut him off, her tone becoming even more firm and resolute.

"But nothing", she interjected, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You need to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault. You're stronger than this, Dean. You've faced demons, monsters, and worse. You can't let this one mistake define you".

Dean's eyes softened as he listened to Jodie's words, a glimmer of hope shining in their depths. He knew she was right, knew he couldn't continue to carry the weight of his past mistakes on his shoulders forever.

"Thank you, Jodie", he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "I needed to hear that".

"I know", Jodie replied softly, her arms wrapping around Dean in a tight embrace. "And I'm here for you, no matter what. Just remember that".

Jodie pulled back slightly, meeting Dean's gaze with a reassuring smile. "And remember, she still loves you", she said gently. "She's a smart girl, Dean. She knows it wasn't your fault. You just have to believe it too".

As Jodie and Dean talked in the garage, Sam gently loosened his grip around you, sensing that you were beginning to calm down. He looked down at you with concern, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Do you think maybe we should get rid of that stupid table?", he asked softly, his voice filled with compassion. He knew how much the sight of it had upset you, and he wanted to do whatever he could to make things right.

You nodded softly, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you looked up at Sam.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "I think that would help".

Jodie clapped her hands together once they entered the kitchen, a bright smile on her face.

"Alright, everyone", she said cheerfully, "we're going to spend some time together. All of us, including my girls".

She explained that they would be driving to the lake, to her grandparents' lake house.

"It's time for some family time. For a little fresh start", she announced, her eyes sparkling with determination.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 5

Taglist: @mayafatimakhan

#jensen ackles #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #hurt/comfort #angst

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uuyuomi · 3 months

Text

IF ONLY TO SAY, YOU’RE MINE.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ━ ever since you and heizou started dating, you’ve never known him to be the jealous or possessive type. but it seems your closeness with a certain classmate has started to get to him. (or jealousy and kisses)

heizou x reader | w.c: 1.4k | tags: gn reader, est. relationship, high school setting, jealousy, intimate moments, fluff

lately, you’ve started to notice a slight shift in your precious boyfriend’s behavior. especially when it comes to your interactions with a fellow classmate.

recently, one of your teachers had assigned a group project to the class, and even at the mere mention of group work, everyone began to excitedly decide who they would choose to partner up with. however the teacher was quick to put an end to such excitement, announcing that she would personally be determining the groups for this particular project herself—much to everyone’s dismay.

long story short, you ended up not being placed in the same group as your boyfriend, heizou, but with another instead. of course, this kind of decision didn’t necessarily bother either of you.

after all, this wouldn’t be the first time you both had to work separately from each other. and while the first few moments of realization were a bit saddening, it all disappeared the moment you two met up for lunch or walked home together after school.

therefore you thought nothing of it and thus began to work with your groupmates on the project.

although it hadn’t been decided officially amongst your group members themselves, you naturally found yourself becoming the appointed leader for your group alongside another.

the only one who had continuously helped you with setting up expected due dates, handling group meetings outside of class, and delegating certain tasks to the other members.

from this continuous engagement, you would wound up spending the majority of your time with said classmate whom you gradually got to know more and more with each study session and hangout.

the two of you soon found out that you both surprisingly shared a lot of common interests with each other, making your shared time together to be quite amendable. in addition to that, you also found sharing your frustrations with them about the project itself or other concerns that were unrelated to school to come by fairly easy.

but in light of this newly formed friendship, came about the rise of something else in another individual close to you—heizou.

there was one occasion in which you’d been standing out in the hallway during break period, chatting away with your classmate about how much sleep you lost the night before because of that ridiculous project.

“i swear, i feel like i only got like three hours max...” you said, eyelids feeling heavy as a yawn escaped past your lips.

he laughed in response. “i told you before school ended that i could handle that part of the research so you could get some sleep. got no one to blame but yourself.”

“hey, how about instead of calling me out, you have some sympathy for me instead!” you retort, rolling your eyes and playfully jabbing him on the shoulder.

“ow! yea right, with how you're treating me now? i don’t think so.”

the two of you laugh in unison and you’re just about ready to throw another light punch his way.

but then, you suddenly feel a pair of arms wrap around your torso, pulling you back against someone as you see a flash of burgundy colored hair from the corner of your eyes.

“heizou?”

he plants a small kiss on your temple, smiling towards you before resting his head on your shoulder. “yes, love?”

“oh do you two know each other?” your friend chimes in, waiting for you to answer his question but you're beaten to it.

“we’re dating.” heizou answers without delay, and you swear you could detect a tinge of possessiveness in his voice as he says that.

“oh so you’re heizou!” your classmate says with a smile, seemingly unfazed by heizou’s somewhat aloof demeanor. “it’s nice to finally meet you i’m–”

“no need for introductions. i know who you are.” heizou interjects, his eyes narrowing at the male in a way that feels as though he’s shooting daggers at him. though such an exchange goes unnoticed by you.

“now if you don’t mind, we actually have somewhere to be.”

without sparing another word, heizou grabs your hand, making sure to interlock his fingers with yours before dragging you away.

it all happened in switch swift movements that you didn’t have time to register what just happened. and before you knew it, you were back at your desk playing with heizou’s hair. something he had insistently asked you to do before break ended (you went with giving him small braids that day).

it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together to realize; he was jealous.

and that was just one of countless other instances that would occur in the following days.

each time towards the end of the week, when the teacher gave everyone time to gather with their groups and work on their projects, heizou became extra clingy and affectionate to you during breaks and lunch: hugging you for extended periods of times, showering you with more kisses than usual, and constantly calling to you by his designated pet names for you, “love” and “darling.”

or whenever heizou would catch you hanging around your new friend for more than five minutes, he’d swoop in from behind and instantly pull you away.

a few friends—after witnessing such a dilemma of lovers' jealousy unfold—suggested that perhaps if you tried ignoring him, he’d eventually give up and let you be.

so one day, you decided to test this theory out for yourself. but that quickly became a terrible mistake.

just as usual, you were out in the hallway, talking to your friend who fills you in on the finishing adjustments needed on a certain part of the project before turning it in.

as you expected, heizou soon showed up. this time though, you weren’t planning to give in.

even as you felt his arms wrap around you, and motion for you to go with him somewhere else, you didn’t bat an eye or budge one bit. seeing you purposefully ignore him made heizou frown, the jealousy now reaching it’s highest peak and the bitterness inside him growing every second.

tightening his hold on you, he pulled you closer to him. then like it was second nature to him, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling into the softness of your skin.

an affectionate gesture you knew all too well. he did this exact action many times when you two were alone together in the comfort of your home. it his favorite form of physical touch to do each time he pulled you into his embrace and cuddled you.

but holy shit was he seriously doing this right now? and at school of all places!?

you stiffened a bit at the sudden feeling of his warm breath fanning against your neck, causing goosebumps to appear all over. but you quickly brushed it off. continuing to talk as though nothing was happening.

again—terrible mistake.

if you weren’t going to acknowledge him, then he’ll simply make it so you have no choice but to do so.

heizou slowly leans in even closer to your neck, his lips brushing against the delicate skin. your scent was always so intoxicating to him, something he never intends to let go of.

only he was allowed to breath it in. only he was allowed to be this close to you and you to him. no one else.

he softly smiles against you as he notices the way your breath seems to hitch at the brief sensation, watching the way you struggle to formulate coherent sounding words. and then, without warning, he begins to pepper your neck with kisses. one, then two, and three.

safe to say that after the third one you were a blushing mess in front of your friend, who ended up awkwardly excusing himself.

meanwhile, heizou watched with a satisfied look on his face as the male quickly walked off, waiting until he disappeared around the corner to speak.

“i hope he keeps walking and never knows what it's like to have your attention on him ever again.”

cheeks still coated in a faint shade of red, you let out an exasperated sigh at his words. “honestly…the lengths you go to. i thought you said before you weren’t the jealous type?”

“i’m not the jealous type—but what’s mine is mine.”

end note: back again with another daily nightly dose of late night writing! ngl this is probably the most intimate(?) thing i’ve ever written for a character and probably the only time i’ll ever do it😭 (sorry yall my aro/ace ass struggles </3)

i was originally considering using scara for this post but idk man… something about heizou and neck kisses has me brain rotting hard 🧎‍♀️probably because he’s one of the few characters i can actually see doing that kind of affection for you? and mixed in with that voice of his!? oof…actually ascending rn

also the way this was suppose to be based around a scene from the anime show horimiya (specifically the jacket scene) BUT THEN I ENDED UP WRITING THIS?! by the end of it i was like🧍‍♀️well ig we’re doing this now. do i like it? ..sure. will i ever do it again? 10% chance :D

#[ ✎ᝰ ] :: mae’s writing #genshin impact #genshin writing #genshin oneshots #genshin x reader #genshin heizou #shikanoin heizou #heizou #heizou oneshot #heizou fluff #heizou x reader #heizou x you #heizou x y/n #heizou x gn reader #heizou shikanoin x reader

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ahrahrahraha · 7 months

Text

Series

Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

3B by @softlyspector

"Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye".

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Sugar by @softlyspector

"By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war. Told through a series of non-chronological one-shots."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

The Florist, The Beekeeper & The Pumpkin Carver by @softlyspector

Home & Better by @softlyspector

For The Love Of The Game by @pellucid-constellations (college/baseball AU)

"Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it."

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations (lumberjack!bucky)

"Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either."

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

A Correspondence Of Obligation by @pellucid-constellations (prince!bucky)

"Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls".

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

A Million Reasons by @pellucid-constellations

"Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that's technically part of the community, have to put up with him. Every day. And he won't stop killing your plants."

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Never Let You Go by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences."

A Love That Never Leaves by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Safe With Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Three Shades of A Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Guiding Light by @wkemeup

The Witness by @wkemeup (detective!bucky)

By Any Other Name by @wkemeup (FBI!bucky)

Sunrise by @wkemeup (armyvet!bucky)

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup (biker!bucky)

Sky Full Of Song by @wkemeup (pirate!bucky)

Pride & Privacy by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Feelings Are Fatal by @sunmoonandeddie

Appointments by @noctumbra

Codename: Lazarus by @sagechanoafterdark

I'll Take Care Of It by @tellmealovestory

Something More by @tellmealovestory (modern au)

It's a Deal by @justreadingfics

Looking For A Heartbeat by @justreadingfics

Bad Match by @justreadingfics

Lumby & Bunny by @sweetdreamsbuck (lumberjack!bucky)

Florist Bucky by @navybrat817

Biker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

Soft Mafia Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

Chubby Baker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

The Two of Us by @bucky-bucket-barnes

The Five Times Bucky Saved You... by @buckysknifecollection

Tiktok Trend by @tuiccim

Snow by @delaber

Personal Pillow by @buckyalpine

Untouched by @buckyalpine

Wait, What? by @buckyalpine

Untouched by @buckyalpine

Project V by @babyboibucky

"You ask your best friend Bucky a favor of a lifetime." Pairing College!Bucky Barnes x Reader"

What's Left Behind by @ussgallifrey

"The world turned upside down the minute you let your guard down and, despite it all, you just had to keep going because… what else could you do at a time like this?"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader

The Kids Aren't Alright by @ussgallifrey

"Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy but, between the three of you, there’s enough lyrics to write an anthem. You’re doomed from the start"

Pairing: Steve x named!Female Reader x Bucky

Updated 4/11/2023

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rubysunnday · 1 year

Text

lavender haze

requested by @roguemetalmaster13: Congrats on 6k! I’ve read your Matthias Helvar fics and I really like them, so I was wondering if you could please write a Matthias x fem or gn reader fic?

summary: when circumstances mean Y/N is forced to face Matthias and her hatred for him, the hatred turns into something more

"Helvar, this is Y/N."

Y/N raised her gaze from the book she was reading, eyed Matthias up and down, and then dropped her gaze back to her book.

Jesper winced. "Yeah, she's uh... she's Grisha so..."

"I don't like Druskelle," Y/N replied, turning a page in her book.

Matthias nodded once. "Fine, I understand."

"I don't think you do, but ok," Y/N said softly, with a humourless chuckle.

"Y/N, put your grudge aside for now," Kaz warned. "We've got a job to do."

Y/N huffed but closed her book, setting it aside on the bar top. "Fine. What are we doing?"

"You," Kaz amended, sliding an empty tray across the top of the bar and to Y/N, "are going to be working our target."

Y/N snatched the tray from Kaz and raised her eyebrows. "I'm doing what?"

"This corset is tight and my boobs are about to fall out," Y/N muttered to herself, yanking the front up.

The Crow Club was full to the bursting with patrons. Y/N was glad she had a moments reprieve behind the bar - away from the people who kept pushing and shoving her and groping her limbs.

The gang was dispersed about the room as well as outside. Kaz was sat in his usual corner, Wylan next to him. Nina was down the other end of the room, flirting with patrons and doing her best to convince them to spend more money. Jesper and Inej were both outside, watching and waiting for their target to walk in.

And Matthias? Matthias was on door duty. Also waiting for their target.

Albert McCarthy was a rich businessman from Belendt and a close friend of Pekka Rollins. Kaz wanted intel on Pekka and who better to ask than McCarthy.

Y/N's job was to get McCarthy drunk enough to spill his secrets to Inej out in the alley behind the club. Which sounded easy. But there was a rumour - a fairly truthful rumour - that McCarthy had been the man dressed as Mister Crimson, who'd killed the young girl in the Sweet Shop.

He was not a nice man.

"I've been asked to check on you," Matthias said, walking up to the bar, leaning his arms on the counter.

"So, you're not here of your own volition or concern," Y/N replied, picking up a shot glass. "Good to know."

Matthias sighed. "I have done nothing to you -"

"Agree to disagree." Y/N looked up at him and gave him a tight lipped smile. "I hold grudges well."

"I've noticed," Matthias muttered. "Y/N, look, I'm not the man I was."

Y/N stepped back, picking up a bottle of rum from behind the bar. "How do I know that, Helvar?" She asked, lowering her voice slightly. "How do I know that, if I trust you, you won't just turn around and sell me to the Fjerdans?"

Hurt flashed across Matthias' face. "I wouldn't. I just wouldn't."

Y/N's eyes focused on someone behind Matthias and she swore. "He's here."

Y/N's heart sped up and she took a deep breath in, forcing herself to calm down. She didn't know if Matthias had picked up on her anxiety or not, but he didn't leave. He stayed by the bad, slightly to the side, looking just like any other patron.

"Evening, sir," Y/N said, beaming at McCarthy as he approached the bar. "Can I get you anything?"

McCarthy smiled at her, tilting his head slightly. "Glass of whiskey, please..."

"Rosita," Y/N replied, reaching down behind the bar.

"Beautiful name. Just like the person." McCarthy sat down at the bar and leant forward. "Make that two glasses."

"Oh?"

"One for me and one for you - I like to drink with company."

"My boss doesn't allow drinking on the job," Y/N said, pouring the whiskey into a glass.

McCarthy leant across the bar and grabbed another glass, his hand brushing against Y/N's. "I'm sure he won't mind one."

Y/N sighed dramatically. "Fine."

She had one drink and then one more, watching the McCarthy the entire time as, for every one sip she took, he drank the entire glass.

It wasn't long before McCarthy was drunk and swaying in his seat. Y/N had come round for the bar to sit on the stool next to McCarthy (and Matthias). McCarthy's hands kept roaming from her legs to her waist to her arms and it was all Y/N could do to sit there and giggle - to let it happen.

"How about we take this outside?" McCarthy suggested, his words slurring together.

Y/N almost cheered. He really was making this easy for himself.

She took his hand and pulled him off his stool, giggling playfully as he fell off it and into a table. They went through the back door and out into the alley, the cold night air a sharp change from the stuffy interior of the club.

McCarthy rounded on Y/N as soon as they were outside, pushing her against the wall and pressing his body to hers. Y/N was fighting with herself now to not hit him, to push him away, to panic.

She saw Inej rather than heard her. She appeared from the shadows, looming ominously behind McCarthy, a dagger in her hand.

McCarthy's hand began to wander up her skirt, the material gathering in his hands and Y/N nearly broke. But then Inej stepped forward, knife pressed to the back of McCarthy's neck.

"Step back," Inej hissed. "And turn away."

McCarthy, feeling the point of the blade against his neck, did as he was told. His desire turned to disgust as Y/N moved away from the wall, coming to stand beside Inej.

"Wraith," McCarthy sneered.

"Aw, Inej," Y/N cooed, "he knows your name."

It was interesting, watching Inej interrogate someone. Y/N had never really paid attention to it before, often preoccupied with doing something else for a job, or acting as a silent observer who really wasn't observing.

"We know you're friends with Pekka Rollins," Inej began, slowly and meticulously twirling her knife between her fingers.

"What of it?"

Inej took a calculated step forward. "He has a glass factory up north. That doesn't make any glass. Sound peculiar to you, Y/N?"

"Very peculiar," Y/N replied. "Almost as if its a front for something."

McCarthy laughed. "What is this? A pathetic attempt at interrogation from two children?"

Both Inej and Y/N rolled their eyes at that. They were both more than used to the skepticism of men, and women, in Ketterdam. They were barely twenty - Inej and Wylan looked like they were still in their teens - and people rarely took them seriously. But as soon as Inej took her knives out or Y/N clicked her fingers and fire appeared, they quickly changed their minds.

So, they did jut that. In a well rehearsed movement, Inej unsheathed her twin knives and Y/N snapped her fingers, fire flaring up and dancing across her skin and down to her palm.

McCarthy blanched and took a step back, his cocky demeanour vanishing as it always did when a merchant was threatened. They felt powerful until they didn't.

"Alright, alright, let's not be hasty," McCarthy said. "I'll talk."

McCarthy launched at Inej but the girl deftly jumped to the side, leaving her foot in McCarthy's path. He tripped on it and stumbled forward. As he did, Y/N came forward, her fingers burning orange. She wasn't going to harm him with her fire - she just wanted to taunt him.

Her fire flew threw the air, catching on the fabric of an empty stall behind McCarthy and exploding into a roar of orange. McCarthy stumbled back and growled.

It was predictable what McCarthy did next. But Y/N's lack of sleep over the last few days meant her reflexes were slow. McCarthy launched to his right and harshly shoved Y/N aside.

She lost her footing, going over on the heels of her shoes, and fell back into the wall behind her, smacking her head, hard. Y/N gasped, swearing as her hand shot up to the back of her head. She dug her nails into her scalp, trying to even out the pain.

Inej crouched down to the ground and rolled forward, propelling herself under McCathy's legs. She shot up the other side, slicing her knife along his leg as she did so.

McCarthy screamed out in pain, his leg buckling and folding beneath him. Inej loomed over him, twirling her knife between her fingers.

"Please," McCarthy panted, beads of sweat gleaming on his forehead. "Please, I'll tell you what you want, just don't hurt me."

Inej's lips quirked up into a smile, her teeth peeking out. "I like it when men beg."

It was like a lightning strike. Inej pounced, punching McCarthy in the face, knocking the man to the floor and rendering him unconscious.

"Is he dead?"

Y/N flinched, clicking her fingers and summoning fire. Matthias took an abrupt step back, his hands flying up into surrender.

"Saints, Helvar," Y/N said, falling back against the wall behind her, "has no one told you to not sneak up on two women in an alley at night?"

Inej laughed, wiping her knives down on her trouser leg. "No, he's not," she answered, sheathing them, "just out cold. Jesper and Kaz can deal with his chatter, I'm too tired."

"Agreed," Y/N said. She put her hand to her head again and winced, quickly pulling it back. In the dim light of the alleyway, she could see something wet on her fingers. "You don't need me, do you?"

Inej shook her head, pulling her hood up. "No. Go get some sleep while you can."

Y/N nodded her thanks and yanked open the side door. The warmth and noise of the Crow Club greeted her. She began to climb the stairs up to her room, the pounding in her head gradually increasing with each step up.

She got to the first floor landing and wobbled, putting a hand out, finding the wall.

The floorboards behind her creaked but she didn't react. She knew who it was. Matthias was not stealthy.

"Come to finish me off, Druskelle?" Y/N asked, panting softly as she tried to catch her breath.

Matthias sighed. "How long before you trust me?"

Y/N turned. "How long before you stop hating Grisha?"

"I haven't hated Grisha in a long time," Matthias said, stepping up onto the landing. "Believe it or not, people can change."

Y/N looked at Matthias, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. "My parents were captured and sent to the Ice Court for trial," she said quietly. "I hid. Even as the screaming started, I hid. I didn't come out until a group of second army arrived and carried me out of there."

Matthias was silent, gazing at her intently, his eyes scouring her face. Y/N met his gaze, the silence growing around them. She didn't need to finish her story - Matthias knew.

"I am sorry, for what my people did," he said softly, his accent sounding stronger now than it had done before.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered. She sub-consciously put a hand against the wall, readjusting her weight slightly. "No one has ever apologised before."

Matthias' gaze turned to concern as he noticed Y/N leaning heavily on the wall. "Are you ok?"

"Ahuh," Y/N said, trying not to nod. "I smacked my head against the wall when he shoved me."

Matthias moved close. "Can I look?"

"It's fine -"

"Please?"

Y/N hesitated but ultimately relented. She turned around and stepped back, brushing against Matthias' chest as she did so. He gently prodded the back of her head, his fingers parting and holding up sections of hair.

It was almost relaxing. Well, it was relaxing. Y/N closed her eyes and leant into his touch. Matthias moved slightly closer, letting Y/N lean back against him.

Y/N had always wanted to be closer to Matthias. Seeing how he was around Nina and Inej - the way he acted with them and hugged them made her yearn for it. But she hadn't trusted him. Because she knew better.

Now, however... she still knew better. But now there was understanding - acceptance.

Y/N turned around, Matthias' hands falling to his sides as she did so. "This is all I've ever wanted," Y/N said quietly. "To be closer to you."

"No one was stopping you."

"Except myself," Y/N whispered. She ducked her head for a moment before raising it again. "I just wanted this. To hold you and smile at you... to hear you laugh at my jokes."

"And now?" Matthias asked, his hand brushing against Y/N's.

Y/N took a deep breath in at the touch, goosebumps dancing up her arms. She took the plunge and leant forward, pressing her lips to Matthias'.

Realising what she'd done, Y/N pulled away. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking slightly.

Matthias looked at her. His gaze dropped to her lips. He launched forward, forcing Y/N to take a step back. His hands wrapped around her waist as his lips trailed kisses down her neck, onto her collarbone and back up again.

They were hungry for one another. Y/N wanted to hold him tightly and never let go.

Matthias bent his knees, put an arm under Y/N's legs and scooped her up, never once breaking the kiss. She wrapped an arm around his neck, breaking her lips from his for a moment, just to catch her breath.

Y/N leant her forehead against his, panting hard. Perhaps it had come out of nowhere, the sudden desire to hold him and want him. But, at the same time, maybe it had been festering underneath her hatred since the beginning.

Her hatred had evolved into something more.

"Stop thinking," Matthias mumbled. "Just kiss me again."

So she did.

Matthias grinned against her lips as he turned and carried her down the corridor, pushing open the door to her room with ease.

He laid Y/N down on the bed and she giggled, bouncing slightly against the cushions. Matthias climbed on top, one knee either side of her legs, his hands resting on her thighs.

Y/N looked up at him and couldn't help the excitement pooling inside her. "Yes?" She asked, needing to know.

His lips curled into a smile and Y/N melted a little bit more. "Yes." Matthias leant down and pressed his lips to the space below her ear. Y/N arched up into him, her hands fisting into the material of his shirt. "Absolutely, yes."

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #fic #fanfic #six of crows fic #shadow and bone fic #matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar imagine #matthias helvar

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