#I considered doing the whole 'hey it's been a while' speech again but I think it's always going to have been a while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shinobuscanonwife · 2 years

Note

Hello. How about Upper Moons + Muzan's reaction on their S/O, upon learning that they are demons, going full "okay" mode and offer some of their blood? I can't help but think that this is quite romantic?

Daki

(Platonic)

Daki normally didn't care what humans thought but when it came to you she was terrified of telling you she was a demon. She didn't want you to be scared of her :( but after her brother gave her a pep talk she started to consider telling you. You would probably find out eventually so it would be best now to tell you. She told you she was a demon expecting you to scream or cry or run away from her but all you did was nod and hold up your arm. "Demons need human blood to live yes? You can have some of mine."

Gyutaro

You could tell your boyfriend was anything but human. And this didn't bother you. Even if you didn't know what he was you figured that he would tell you when he's ready. Now Gyutaro had no knowledge of any of this. He was sure you thought he was a human. He prepared a whole speech for you explaining that he was a demon and how he's sorry that he kept it from you for so long but he didn't know how to tell you. In the middle of the speech you just started laughing hysterically. Gyutaro stopped "what's so funny?" He asked kind of worried. "I know your a demon dear you didn't do a good job with hiding it" you said still laughing. Gyutaro had never been more embarrassed in his life. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something you said "hey demons have to have blood to survive. Are you hungry do you need some of my blood?"

Gyokko

It wasn't exactly hard to figure out he was a demon. He didn't hide the fact that he was a demon because you could honestly tell. He did however hide the fact that he had to eat humans. He didn't know how you would react and he didn't want to find out. He would never forgive himself if he made you scared or uncomfortable. But eventually you did find out and you understood. It's how he has to survive so your not going to stop him. You offered him some of your blood and he of course declined claiming he didn't want to hurt you

Hantengu

He was really worried about scaring you:( again you could tell that he was a demon. But he tried to hide most of what being a demon really meant. Meaning he didn't tell you about eating humans or how he could regenerate his limbs. But when he did tell you he was a nervous wreck holding your hand begging for you not to be mad at him :( you of course weren't and did something that completely shocked him "hey do you need any of my blood?" you asked. He shook his head "nonononono I could never take any of your blood!!!"

Nakime

Nakime did a pretty good job at blending in with humans but she couldn't keep it up forever. She had a good excuse on why she couldn't go out during daytime but she felt bad rejecting your cooking or not being able to stay with you a lot during the night so she eventually told you. "Okay. Thank you for telling me" you said to your girlfriend. Nakime was expecting a bit more of a reaction but she was happy you weren't scared of her. You later offered her some of your blood and she accepted your offer she only took a little bit though she didn't know how much blood loss it took for it to be dangerous for a human but she didn't want to risk it.

Akaza

Akaza understands why you would be scared of him but on the other hand it filled his heart with sadness to think of you being scared of him or running away from him so it took him a while to tell you. But after a year or so of you two dating he figured he had to tell you. One night when you got home from work he greeted you at the door and guided you to the kitchen. He held your hand the whole time he was telling you. Scared you would run away from him or try and back away from him. But you didn't do either of those things you just patiently waited for him to finish talking. You nodded and said "thank you for telling me." Then smiled at him. After that you started to offer him some of your blood. He declined everytime. Even if taking a little bit wouldn't hurt you he doesn't think he's worthy of drinking your blood.

Douma

He knew it was dangerous being in a relationship with you. All the danger it put you in but he was sure to protect you. And Douma thinks not telling you he's a demon is protecting you and arguably he's right but in the back of his mind he knows that he would have to tell you sooner or later. One winter night he came back with 2 small children. There names were Daki and Gyutaro. He knew that if he was going to raise them and turn them into strong demons he would have to tell you about who he actually is. You sat there with the two children asleep in your lap as he explained everything. You nodded your head after he finished talking. "Do you need any of my blood?" You said looking at him. He grinned "just a little. I don't want to take to much~"

Kokushibo

Somehow he was able to hide the fact that he's a demon from you for a good while but when he did tell you he wasn't worried. If you ran from him or were scared of him you simply weren't the one. No matter how much his heart ached to think of it his mind he knew that was the truth. One night he sat down and motioned you to come sit on his lap. And as he played with your hair he figured this would be a perfect time to tell you. He told you that he was a demon. You turned to look at him. "I see. Do you need my blood are you hungry?"

Muzan

For the first time in forever he was worried about what someone thought of him and that upset him because how dare you???? He's the king of demons he shouldn't be concerned over what a mere mortal thinks. But here he was trying to find ways he could tell you he was a demon. Not just a demon the king of all demons. When you got home from work you were met with your husband pacing back and forth looking awfully worried. You asked him what was wrong and he just responded with "we need to talk" his words kind of scared you. Was he mad at you? You couldn't remember doing anything to make him upset. You sat down and Muzan explained to you that he was a demon. And after he was finished you just pulled your sleeve down and said "don't worry I don't mind. Are you hungry? You can have some of my blood."

Thank you for your request! Have a nice day/night

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mysterystarz · 2 months

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just keep falling for

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x g!n reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, boatload of an oblivious but perceptive reader, kuroo really doesn’t know how to get the obvious out and reader cannot really tell him they know what he means

notes: rewatching hq and i literally fell in love w everyone again — dedicated to all kuroo fans, not proofread at all

also i haven’t written in so long so my style is all over the place so pls critique me and also my hand slipped

reblogs and opinions are appreciated <3

kuroo was taking an awfully long time in the locker room.

standing in the gym, you watched as the first years helped with deconstructing the volleyball nets for the day. while you offered your help, they politely declined, suggesting you wait to accompany their captain out to advertise their great work.

normally, kuroo was quick. any jokes that happened inside the locker room were quick to reach your ears, and you knew how much he tried to include you in everything.

you leaned against the wall, watching the clock tick for a whole minute before opting to pace around the gym.

little did you know, kuroo was having a meltdown inside the locker room.

“kuroo!” yaku yelled, brandishing his towel. “you need to get a grip. stop freaking out. you’re supposed to be the composed one!”

“seriously kuroo,” kenma agreed, “why are you acting so surprised. it’s not like this is new news.”

“guys,” kuroo began, raking a finger through his hair, “this messes up everything.”

“is this about y/n?” lev asked, finally entering the locker room. “did kuroo finally do something about that crush?”

“enough!” kuroo sighed, sitting down at one of the benches. in the span of the last ten minutes, kuroo had one of the most dramatic realizations of his life.

he liked you.

you, his best friend and his other half. you, who cheered for him at every game and even lended him cool analogies to use in captains speeches. you, who stole his jacket and ran away from him, leaving him to chase you as far as the two of you could run.

he wasn’t sure what had changed. somehow, you’d entered his head, and with every pump of his heart, you sunk deeper and deeper into his bloodstream.

“did you seriously not know?” yaku asked gently, “because if you ask us, it was obvious from the very start. you hold them in such high regard.”

“i didn’t,” he admitted, turning to meet yaku’s eyes. “i didn’t know and now, i don’t know what to do. we’ve been friends for ages….i don’t even think they see me that way.”

“just tell them kuroo,” kenma said, not looking up from his console. “they like you a lot, they’re not going to say no.”

the team voiced their agreement, and began to file out of the locker room at last.

“sorry to keep you waiting,” he smiled, meeting your gaze as he walked out of the locker room.

“no problem,” you said, returning a grin of your own. “was there something going on in there?”

“nahhhhh,” he laughed, “someone was just having a meltdown about how to do a proper confession.”

“confession?” you rose a brow, and kuroo silently cursed himself for letting such a specific detail slip.

for a moment, you were stunned. as you walked, you considered all the possibilities.

you knew lev had been racking up quite the fanbase through his games, and you also knew how yaku was starting to branch out a bit more. if kenma had a prospective partner, you would’ve already heard of it by now.

unless…unless it was kuroo having the meltdown.

you pondered this detail as you walked out of the school doors, holding them open for your lanky best friend.

“hey dork,” you began, “who are you planning on confessing to? it was your meltdown, right?”

kuroo felt his heart drop in his chest. curse you and your quick connections.

“what makes you think the meltdown was mine?”

“because i would’ve known about everyone else,” you smiled confidently. “you would’ve told me.”

kuroo simply looked at you, distracted by your smile and the way it lit up your eyes. if only he could put it into words.

you had a way of making him nervous.

“i’d tell you details if you stopped smiling at me like that. too bright — it’s hurting my eyes.” he teased.

what he didn’t expect was for you to laugh and immediately drop your smile, transitioning to a serious face.

“tell me now,” you huffed, “i deserve to know who’s on your mind these days.”

he sighed.

if there was one thing worse than your uncanny ability to read his mind, it was the lack of that ability to tell that you were the only person he ever thought about.

kuroo got home, resting his bag on the floor of his room and immediately dialing kenma. he picked up in an instant, and kuroo couldn’t help but be thankful for his setter.

“kenma,” he sighed, “this is like one of your games. impossible.”

“let me guess. y/n didn’t catch a hint?”

“they know it’s me” he groaned, “they know i had the meltdown. they know there’s someone in my head. they keep trying to ask me who it is, but i can’t just say ‘it’s you’ can i?”

“being direct is actually a good idea.” kenma suggested, “go retry that level kuroo. maybe you’ll have some luck this time.”

with that, kenma hung up, leaving kuroo frenzied with an emotion that felt a lot like hope.

sitting and staring out the window, you wondered if now was a good time to acknowledge your growing crush on nekoma’s middle blocker.

he was everything you could ever ask for. thoughtful, sweet, laughably charming, and with a nerdy twist that made him a dork and undeniably your other half.

it didn’t help how handsome he’d become over the years either. he’d gotten taller and taller, his eyes golden and his hair endearingly messy. he was solid from all the days spent practicing, and after every embrace, you were left craving more.

as much as you didn’t want to admit your discomfort, the sensation hovered over you like a fog.

the idea of kuroo having feelings for someone else was bittersweet. you adored him — you really did, and his happiness was yours.

but….you couldn’t help but wish that you could both be happy. that he’d see you the way you’d always seen him.

someone to just keep falling for.

the next morning, kuroo came to grab you from your house for the daily walk to school. he’d made an effort to make sure his tie was on incorrectly in the hopes that you’d fix it for him.

you greeted him at the door, breaking into a grin upon seeing his disheveled state.

“come inside,” you sighed, dragging him by the hand into the foyer. he stood patiently as you reached for his tie, straightening out the edges and meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt.

“it’s almost like we’re married.” he teased, happy at the flustered expression that shot onto your features. “what? cat got your tongue?”

“shut up tetsu.”

“i don’t want to.” he said, looking into your eyes. he hoped that there was something conveyed in the silent space between you. the tenseness was all but palpable.

“oh.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “so this is your confession? a messy tie and a lot of cheek.”

“of course,” he smirked, “you’re the only person i’d do that for.”

#nova scribbles <3 #man tags I forgot about these #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo imagine #kuroo drabble #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurō #haikyuu kuroo

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bellabrady · 2 months

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Hey! I want to say absolutely no hate here, you can think whatever you want about characters, I just want to make some points for you to consider! If it makes you change your mind, cool! If it doesn’t, well that follow button doesn’t need my finger on it since we clearly have different views :)

I am not going to be commenting on Chim begins since I haven’t watched it in a while, but I just finished rewatching Hen Begins and was discussing Bobby Begins Again with someone, so here we go.

In Hen Begins, Tommy is never hostile towards her. He doesn’t defend her from the captain, but he’s also a young gay man who is probably terrified of that same hate being turned to him. When Hen is doing her speech on the fire truck most of the crew has tightened jaws and seems mad, but Tommy seems relaxed and thoughtful. And at the end of the episode he tells Hen: “We would’ve done a sweep of the area eventually, but eventually would’ve been too late. Good job.” with a smile and then proceeds to shake her hand and pat her on the shoulder. It is also heavily implied that he was one of the people who left a complaint about the captain and his treatment. Everything about this episode screams a man who was keeping his head low and trying to slip under the radar, not a man trying to be hateful.

In Bobby Begins Again, they throw him a nice going away party. I don’t know about you, but I don’t tend to buy assholes who are rude to me a cake.

Then later Chimney is able to call him up and ask a favor that Tommy does without complaint, which makes it seem like they’re on good terms.

And in the most recent episodes, he steals a helicopter and lies to higher-ups, something that could easily get him fired and cause him to lose everything. Once again, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t risk my job and my life (they were on a dangerous mission after all) for people I’m not good friends with.

Lastly, Buck does not strike me as the type to date someone who doesn’t like his friends, his family

Again, no hate, just giving you my observations

thank you for being so nice about this!

i do disagree, however. tommy was 100% hostile to hen in hen begins. ('new york bitchiness is a compliment?' for example, or him throwing gear at her feet so she'll tidy it up and barely sparing her a glance)

i also am simply not a fan of giving characters' past actions depth when it's very clear that back then, they weren't written with that depth in mind. i can promise you the writers did not write hen begins & chimney begins while thinking of tommy as a gay, closeted man. (yes, i'm aware there was that one jacob twilight joke but personally i think you might be giving the writers a little too much credit if you think that was planned forshadowing or something. it was just a silly scene)

furthermore, even if we do run with the whole 'tommy was afraid to speak up because he was afraid and closeted'...standing up against misogyny and racism has nothing to do with being closeted, since neither of those things are related to sexuality, so standing up against those things won't make anyone assume that you're gay. tommy being closeted isn't an excuse, in my opinion.

i'm also aware that the characters have forgiven tommy but i just...don't really care about that because in this show, everyone forgives everyone, constantly. buck forgave his parents and they have a good relationship now — that doesn't mean i have to forgive the buckley parents now too.

as for your last point, i'd argue taylor definitely wasn't the biggest fan of buck's friends and family and they weren't a huge fan of her either. but i also don't think that really matters here, since it's been established that tommy is good with hen and chim, so buck has no reason to assume there's bad blood. it once again boils down to the simple fact that i, as a viewer, do not have to forgive a character's actions simply because other characters did.

anyway, once again thank you for not being rude about this and i hope you have a nice day :)

(i hope my response doesn't come across as rude either)

#911 fox #anti tommy kinard #anti bucktommy #evan buckley #9-1-1

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sweetlves · 1 year

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our tandem hearts…

synopsis. reminiscing a small yet meaningful moment with chuuya

characters/pairings. teenage!chuuya nakahara x teenage!gn reader

genre. fluffy fluff

tw. none

a/n. idk how i didnt notice, but this is literally the same exact concept of my other gojo fic…major clown moment yall 🧍🏻‍♀️

chuuya nakahara.

a name you’re all too familiar with. the boy whose been formally assigned as your partner from the leader of the port mafia himself. sadly a few weeks later the infamous osamu dazai had been partnered up with you two as well.

but this isn’t about dazai, this is about chuuya nakahara. you are very accommodated with empathy, but for some reason, chuuya is a very hard person to read.

of course it’s dumb to judge someone’s character just by observing; is what surprisingly a lot of people say. but little do they know, observation can go a long way. just watching someone; their habits, body language, speech and of course, eyes can reveal a whole lot about them.

spacing out while watching chuuya was an accident at first. but gradually, you realize when it’s just you two enveloped by silence. he is a broken boy deep down inside. that is an obvious point, considering you two are in the port mafia.

but his eyes say different. vacant at first, but noticeably shift into pain and sadness. even though he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, that doesn’t mean he’s shown it all. that stubborn hot-headed facade as a cover-up, not letting anyone hurt him.

looking up at the setting sky, you have flashbacks to the memories you’ve had with him. seeing that joyful smile of his, hearing a genuine laugh that he himself was probably not aware of. and especially looking into his eyes, show that at the end of the day. this boy is only a kid. a kid being surrounded by death and violence.

looking back at chuuya, he’s still spaced out, gazing at the beautiful sky. you smile to yourself. he senses your stare and turns to you.

“what?” he says raising an eyebrow

“nothing” you reply back with a soft smile

staring for a few seconds, eyes noticeably softening. “…weirdo,” he whispers.

“hey chuuya…”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you once again. you divert your eyes to the sky.

“if you weren’t in the port mafia, what would you do?”

“…what?…that’s a stupid question.”

“cmon, be honest,” you say with a smile in your voice.

“…hm…well…i don’t really know?” he leans back on his arms. “what would you do?”

“i’d wanna go to school.” he stays silent.

“and go shopping…and eat at pretty restaurants with friends!” your eyes sparkling with excitement.

he just stares at you, eyes soft with admiration, eyebrows raised.

“…well that’s…stupid. we’re in the port mafia, that’ll never be possible.”

“yeah i know…it’s a nice thought though.” you lay on your back, knees up, while chuuya sits there with his arms propped up on his as well.

“…do you think we’d be friends if we weren’t in the mafia?”

“what’s with these dumb questions..?”

“just curious~” he lays down side by side with you.

“argh…i don’t know” you turn your head to him.

“seriously…I’m like your only friend! besides dazai”

“no you’re not, you’re my partner,” he grumbles.

“i might as well be, we’re all we’ve got after all.” he stays silent, his eyes slightly looking at you. his mouth open, looking like he’s hesitant to say something.

“…ugh” he closes his eyes while grumbling as always.

“well that doesn’t sound like you like me,” you say with a soft giggle.

“i prefer you over dazai.”

“ah, so i am your last resort!?” you lightly push his hand.

“shut it already…” his eyes still closed.

“alright alright~.” silence takes over and you turn to chuuya.

“…you sleepy?” you whisper softly.

“..mm…yeah a little.” he whispers back groggily.

“hah, me too. today was exhausting…”

“yeah…” he opens his eyes slightly, “…thanks for staying,” he whispers.

silence takes over again. you feel the presence of his hand lying right next to yours. hands brushing just millimeters away. for some reason your touch senses heightened, the space between your hands feeling like a magnets, pulling the both together.

his pinkey brushing against yours. the small touch felt like electricity. you inch your hand closer as well. eventually his fingers interlock with yours perfectly.

everything feels so perfect right now. you could get used to these moments with chuuya.

#— 𝓑𝓤𝓝𝓖𝓞 𝓢𝓣𝓡𝓐𝓨 𝓓𝓞𝓖𝓢 ༉‧₊˚.#chuuyabsd #chuuya fluff #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #teenage!chuuya nakahara #dazai chuuya 15 #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #fluff #15 chuuya #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x gender neutral reader #teenage love #teen romance #꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#꒰🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

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chemistryread · 1 month

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a 'what's next' for scorch and jake preview

a/n: there could be changes to this.

tagging: @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @peakascum @cherrycola27 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @averyhotchner @sarcasm-n-insomnia @scoopsr0bin @loveforaugust @murdermornings @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @cornishkat @lovingperfectionsblog @thecraziestcrayon @untoldshortsofthefandoms

The sun is kinder at this hour, gently warming the side of your face as you remove your helmet. You can feel Pete's eyes on you from the other side of his aircraft, climbig out of its cockpit.

When he reaches you, the well-meaning furrow of his brows encourages you to pick up a pace, forcing the older man to look at the back of your head instead of your eyes.

"I'd say we're getting good at this whole flying thing, Captain."

You can imagine the small smirk on his lips.

"Think someone up at the high floors might notice us?"

That makes you laugh out loud. "Don't know if they have time for little guys like you and I, but we can dream. Anyway, we've got a prosperous, trouble-free career ahead of us and plenty of time to suck up to Admirals who will definitely like us very much. Right?"

"Hey, you're the one who wrapped your baby arms around my leg. I tried warning you."

"I was young and impressionable." Reaching the end of the tarmac, you turn to him with a faux wistful expression. That classic Maverick combo of a timid smirk and squinting eyes watches you, amused but perpetually curious. "Yes, Captain Mitchell?"

"I don't want you to overwork yourself. You're doing good. Don't get in your own head about it."

The specific sequence of words does not sound strange to you. Are your protective layers shedding with age? It's the only explanation you can find for how targeted your friends' remarks have been able to sound for a while now.

Your feet readjust on the spot, hands clasped in front of your body with uncharacteristic formality for the both of you.

"Is this because I asked if we could stay up there a little longer to see the sunset? A bit on the emotional side, I know, but- Consider it your first wedding gift."

His eyes take your stance with a cocked brow, earnestly stepping forward, an apprehensive inhale filled with interest.

"Are you nervous about that? You know it's a small cerimony, we're just happy you said you'd do it, it doesn't have to be a big-"

"I'm not." It's curt, raising your hand to stop his rambling. "Let's make sure I keep you away from failing engines, birds, my own bad judgement- Out of harm's way entirely first, get you to your bride in one piece, and then I'll feel performance anxiety over the speech. Sound good?"

It's not hard to pick up concern in Maverick's full, green irises. It's always there, anyway. And he's definitely not scared to bring it up. A preamptive sigh escapes your lips.

"I trust you."

Overflowing with confidence and care, melting your cold-natured shell with a simple shrug of his shoulders and a nod.

"I know, Mav."

Your tone is on the annoyed side, his stubborn eyes making you squirm, but you can't find it in you to walk away yet. Expecting to hear one more promise.

"It'll work." Not quite what you needed. Huffing, you look away, throat singing a muffled note of disagreement, which makes him impatient. "What?"

"'Lot of risks."

"Usually not something Scorcher-deterrent."

"I don't usually get to wingman." A sharp, shooting pain in your chest. A feeling of impotence. "My job is to guarantee that you'll be fine."

There he goes again, looking up at you with certainty he simply expects you to share.

"Which is exactly how I know I will be fi-"

"That kind of talk is for friends and family, Mitchell. For me, it's counterproductive. I have to think about it. I have to consider it, worry. Or do you want me to believe you favored me for this mission because you're biased and not because you know I've got that same strain of unease you do about watching someone else's back? There's something sacrificial in you, and it's in me too, isn't it?” You seem to forfeit breathing, eyes stinging, canine showing. Don’t cry. “And the Navy may not openly encourage it, but it sure comes in handy, and you know that very well. That's why you chose me. So let me do my job."

Chest rising, you think about your backseater and her family asking why you didn't try harder. You think about Rooster's father, seeing it in Pete's eyes that he's doing that too. You think about Jake. And you finally get the urge to leave, hide.

"Is this really about flying?"

Maverick's good intentions. You hate them, you're so grateful for them. You'd never take them for granted.

"It's about everything. But it's fine, comes with the, uhm- You know. I got it."

"Have you talked to him?"

Scoffing, you look around the hangar, almost apprehensive someone will reprimand both of you for gossiping at work.

"Of course not." You turn back to Maverick with folded arms and a dismissive head shake. "But this isn't about that."

You can see it in your friend's face. It's about everything but him?

Lying to Maverick causes an involuntary physical reaction, as if you’re going to fall apart in pieces, clearing your throat to cover for it.

"It was always going to be like that. I prepared for it, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. But what you two did, you don’t not talk about it." He copies your standoffish posture. It's mocking, grinning up before he frowns again when you don’t react. He inhales sharply, trying not to sigh. "He RSVP'd for this weekend with a plus one. Not a problem, then?"

"Not a problem, Captain." You enphasize the title, straightening your posture as you watch some younger pilots walk by. "Thanks for letting me know."

Maverick raises his eyebrows, licking his teeth. Assessing. "Penny was concerned."

That makes your blood boil. Such a personal situation bleeding into so many lives when you didn't even allow that.

But you bite on your tongue, giving the couple a free pass for the weekend.

"It is pretty." You chuckle at Maverick's puzzled head tilt, pointing behind him. "The sunset."

"Right," He turns around to squint at the softening orange light, but his gaze slips back to you quickly. "See you at dinner?"

Your shoulders tense up thinking about what kind of traps they could set for you, turning to face the short man with a glare.

"Yes, Captain." When he smiles, you know to brace for some bullshit. He punches your shoulder as light as he can, which is still too much, and you cry out embarrassingly. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Standing there massaging your sore muscles, you let the the afternoon hue slowly take you to him. The sun reminds you of his hair. The clear sky reminds you of his sarcastic, obnoxious laughter when you were flying. The warmth reminds you of everything.

--- FLASHBACK ---

5:39 AM

The gym's floor is cold. Awake since two, working out from four to five. Maverick told you to meet him fifteen minutes before the usual start. You had showered and returned to the gym, not knowing where else to wait.

5:41 AM

Your eyes don't leave the pointers, nails digging into your thighs. Two days where you couldn't quite control your breathing. You should've gone with Coyote.

5:42 AM

It's just the machines, and the freezing sterile air, the colorless skin of someone who isn't recovering…

An attempt to inhale turns into a gasp, the butt of your hand massaging your sternum to soothe the tightening.

5:43 AM

A light turning on in the hallway forces you to stand up, jumping to your feet and hoping the captain doesn't get too upset over your lateness.

Your eyes are trained on the floor as you step out into the hallway, deep in thought praying Mav isn't pulling you aside for a heart-to-heart. That's more than your sleep-deprived brain can handle right now.

With a full exhale your gaze lifts right into a figure walking towards you.

His right shoulder sags to the side with the weight of the bag. Quickly scanning the rest of his body, he seems alright otherwise.

"Jake-"

As your eyes land on his face, his seemed to have been watching you the entire time.

He walked slowly, your feet springing back to life and cautiously bringing you closer. No smiles or other cues to assure you things were okay.

When you both stop, your mouth goes dry and the room feels drained of oxygen. Eager to unravel in apologies, you'll never understand why it's so much harder to say sorry when you mean it.

"I wanted to visit you at the hospital."

The rest dies inside your chest. Are you supposed to tell the person who went through an ejection that it was too hard for you?

It feels like ages since you've seen any warmth in the green of his eyes.

His eyebrows raise with an air of irony.

"What is it they say, the good die young, right? Doesn’t sound like me."

Despite the wink he throws you, his voice is weak and doesn't have even half of the attitude commonly attributed to Hangman. Playful tone now replaced by a short breath pushing you away.

He doesn't see the deep frown twisting your features down your face, walking past you with ease.

"Your shoulder, do you want-"

A dismissive hand gesture is all he gives you.

You should get rid of the lump in your throat before you meet Maverick's stumbling good intentions.

The bag slips from his shoulder to his fingers before he gets to his dorm, stopping to catch his breath, hand flexing as if invisible strings try to pull him back, in the direction you went. To you.

Of course his first encounter back at base would be with your somber face.

It seems he could only try and fail to not favor his romantic side. Jake had imagined a whole scene of waking up to your teary eyes and lopsided smile next to his hospital bed, a confession after he (kind of) nearly died. You had walked back on your words before, he could dream.

But you didn't show. And now the petty devil on his shoulder screams at him to fight back.

So he fantasized a different scenario, promising himself he would stick his chin out and breeze past you the next time he saw you. It's comical he has to talk himself up like this but if you wanted nothing to do with him, he would show you he has never had a problem moving on.

Then he noticed the bags under your eyes and the uneven buttons of your shirt, a visible distress unbecoming of you.

He knows you're not the most expressive person. He knows you've lost someone to an ejection before. Despite your stubborness, he knows you struggle. He knows you.

God, you could string him along, on and off, for several eternities if you wanted to - if only you wanted to.

When he steps through the threshold, Coyote has a quip at the ready and he greets him with a forced grin.

"Just in time to pack your bag and leave this dry desert, huh? Smart bastard." Javy zips his bag, and he chuckles. "Had time to think about how you're spending the next few months?"

Jake can feel the muscles in his face morph into a mix of mischief and self-satisfaction.

"Back to old me."

#theres a BIG happening that happened between them - thats what mav is talkn ab #but it remains to be seen if it will be told #thanks to anybody who reads this #let me know if you wish to be or no longer be tagged thank you.#she is both hellfire and holy water #jake seresin x reader

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whumpster-fire · 1 year

Text

Silly Bartseq Thoughts of the Day:

1: I want a "everybody lives including Jessica Whitwell" AU. Not because she's a decent person (she's not) but because I want Nat and Bartimaeus and Kitty to get to watch Shubit completely lose his temper with her. I want to see the silly little bear man be like: "You live in the shittiest discount bargain bin magical empire in the history of Western Civilization, and yet in the span of five years while working for you, I have been dismissed while you attend some dumb speech or play, and suddenly summoned to find myself face to face with a goddamn Greater Spirit, twice. How the hell do you even keep finding these entities, and if this is happening that often why do you not have a high-level marid on retainer? For that matter given that it is literally your job as security minister to prevent shit like this how the hell have you found yourself in this exact situation twice?" And I want her to be able to do absolutely nothing about this.

2: Okay imagine if Nathaniel, instead of trying to pull the "ha ha, you thought I was summoning a demon into myself but I was actually summoning Ascobol and Co!" trick on Makepeace and Hopkins, just decided to take the biggest gamble of his life and go "Yes, I have chosen a demon. I was thinking perhaps Bartimaeus of Uruk!" and just summons Bartimaeus into himself, betting his life on Bartimaeus going: "Hell no, I'm not spending the rest of my existence wearing your ugly face!" and letting him live.

And Faquarl just went along with it because yeah he'd decided to finish Bartimaeus off earlier but what he really wanted was to be proven right, and to get to gloat to him about how he told him what a great idea inhabiting a human body was and for Bartimaeus to just admit he was right.

So after Nouda and Co. take over their summoner's minds Nat and Bart have to do some panicked acting trying to pretend Bartimaeus just destroyed his mind except really they're fighting for control and flopping all over the place, and Bartimaeus keeps seizing the opportunity to make Nathaniel smack himself upside the head.

And then Bartimaeus supposedly "masters" controlling Nathaniel's body enough to walk around and leave the room, and tells Faquarl: "Hey, I'll meet up with you for the whole taking over the world thing later, but I've been around London a lot recently and I've got a long list of monuments I'd like to deface with obscene graffiti before you fine entities get round to pulverizing them. Mind if I go for a stroll?"

Faquarl, who knows Bartimaeus, completely 100% buys it, and Nathaniel and Bartimaeus immediately make a beeline for the vault and get the staff and amulet without anyone thinking about it because Nouda's too egotistical to even consider needing to augment his own power with whatever entities got trapped in a staff.

3: Actually the funniest thing would be to combine these so Nathaniel shows up again with the staff and starts blasting just as Whitwell is attempting to make a break for it, and after everyone has escaped Jessica's asking him how the hell he's able to stay in control and Bartimaeus just interrupts and goes "Oh he's not, the cool moves were all me, he's just a backseat driver." and then Nathaniel interrupts him again and they start openly bickering, so both Whitwell and Shubit are forced to confront the fact that their asses just got saved by these two complete idiots again. Jane Farrar should also be in the room for this so Bartimaeus can go "Oh hey it's me, you know, the frog you wanted to finish off?"

I want those two scumbags to know that their way of doing things lost, and trust and kindness won.

#bartseq #bartimaeus sequence #bartimaeus of uruk

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

Text

"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 12/18: Try Something New, Darling Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: Teen (for gun violence in later chapters) Word Count: (1K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Killian warns Emma about Tamara's evil plan. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: none Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

Emma sat in the Sheriff's station alone while her dad was out getting lunch. She'd been staring at the notes app for half an hour, trying to draft a perfect way out.

"Killian and I broke up this morning."

That sounded like a pathetic cover story, especially after how lovey-dovey they'd been the past two days.

"Killian's going out of town for the week."

Yeah. Like she could convince him to leave that easily, with unfinished business here in town.

"I'm going out of town for a week."

Even more ridiculous. She had responsibilities here and no excuses outside of town for her sudden departure.

"We've been lying to you this whole time. Killian and I aren't really together."

A confession like that over text message? How much lower could she stoop?

"We need to talk."

Bad move. It'd only make Neal feel so much more anxious- not to mention her anxiety at having this conversation in person- and what if he just didn't show?

She sighed and set down her phone, then crossed her arms on the table and threw her head on them. This scheme was spiraling out of control faster than she could stop it- and it needed to end now. Every step she took to ensure that she and Killian looked like a perfect couple only made her wish they were. She enjoyed taking refuge under his arm a little more each time. Her smiles at him were becoming more and more genuine. She thought of him with every song that came up on the car radio.

That's why she had to abandon this ruse. She couldn't stand falling for someone again- especially someone who she was sure didn't have feelings for her in return- that would be a big mistake.

And even if she was sure he liked her back, even if he told her so plainly, even if he confessed love for her in dramatic speeches- not that he ever would, of course, and Emma scolded herself for even considering it- she'd heard all those words before, and they meant nothing anymore. She didn't know if she ever could trust him, and was almost thankful she wouldn't have to, that her feelings really were unrequited.

Emma expected the interrupting footsteps entering the station behind her to be her dad's- and she never would've expected them to be Killian's- so when she saw him, she was hit with a sudden shot of panic, and wondered how to breach the conversation of their inevitable fake breakup.

"No one else is around." Emma reminded herself, turning away from him after she saw he entered. "He'll be cold and distant again. I'll need to match that."

"Hey, Hook." She said, pretending to be very interested in the stack of papers on her desk. "Something I can do for you?"

"Swan, there's something I need to tell you." Killian said, almost sounding sincere. "But I'm not sure if you'll believe me."

"I just found out two months ago that my parents are Snow White and Prince Charming." Emma deadpanned. "I've gotten a lot better at believing things recently."

"Good." He said. "It's about Tamara."

That was one of the last people she wanted to talk about right now. Tamara was one of those people. She could do no wrong. She had this air of pleasantries and perfection that Emma found unsettling. She drove Emma's superpower haywire.

"What about her?"

"She knows about the fairytales, about the magic at the heart of Storybrooke, and she's out to destroy it."

As much as Emma would love to believe that her ex's new fianceé was an evil mastermind, she didn't buy it.

"How do you know?"

"She thought she could trust the legendary Captain Hook to help her." Killian said. "She thought I'd leave this whole town to die just to defeat the Crocodile."

"Wouldn't you?" Emma asked.

She noticed that he didn't respond. She turned around to see him looking at her, staring at her, face tinted with hues of betrayal, shaded with despair.

"Is that how you see…" he clenched his fist ever so slightly and shook his head, eyes closed, whispering almost to himself, "That's not important now." He then addressed Emma, "The point is, you, your family, and this entire town are in grave danger. Tamara's working with that outsider, Greg, and they're planning…."

Emma's instincts had been telling her to trust him, and so did her superpower, but she was sure they were wrong, that her gut feeling was colored by her emotions- until he mentioned Tamara and Greg were in league.

"She!" Emma interrupted him, then began digging through papers in her desk.

"She?" Killian asked.

Emma looked for her case file on the Greg Mendell crash. "Greg kept getting these phone calls while he was unconscious- calls from someone saved in his contacts as 'She.'"

Emma found where she'd written down "she's" number, then pulled out her phone and pulled up Tamara's contact profile.

"That's why that looked familiar." Emma said. "They have the same phone number."

"What does that mean?"

Emma grabbed her keys and gun off the desk.

"It means whether or not you're right, Tamara's definitely not who she says she is." Emma said. "Can you take me to her?"

"Of course." Killian said.

She started to leave, but she was stopped by a hook around her arm. She looked down at it, then back up at Hook, readying to defend herself if this was the inevitable betrayal.

"Why are you so quick to trust me?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid this could be a trap?"

"I used to think everything was a trap." Emma said, "I still do. But last time I didn't trust you I was wrong, back on the beanstalk." She looked up at him and noticed some kind of genuine understanding in his eyes, then added. "I'm gonna have to trust you this time."

He removed his hook's grip around her arm. "Thank you, Swan."

"Don't thank me yet." Emma said. She turned away from him to build up a wall against his penetrating gaze, then tacked on an emotional barrier as well. "I could still be wrong about you."

#once upon a time fanficton #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #season 2 #canon divergence #kazzy writes

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

The Dignity of His Choice (9)

Badge, Part Two (see previous or series)

Summary: Where do you go from here seriously, where? Can Steve come home? Can you stay with him? Is the threat over?

Warnings for cursing, a little violence, and several threats. (Minors DNI) Dividers by @firefly-graphics

His thick beard actually feels soft in your fingers, and you can’t help but scratch at it lightly.

You were not insane. Your hope wasn’t misplaced.

You’re going to fucking kill him.

Before you can even open your mouth to berate Steve though, Bucky explodes.

“Cake or no fucking cake, it’s time, punk. There’s only one damn name left, and you look like shit, and I wasn’t gonna come back to her floating in the damn bathtub.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he breaks from your hold.

“What do you mean there’s still one name? Why would—“

“You don’t know what I’ve done so far,” Bucky warns. “Spare me the speech or I will toss you up that ramp like a sack of potatoes.”

Steve makes a whining noise.

“Hit a nerve, did I? Good. Pack your shit—“

“I don’t have anything.”

Bucky glowers with a tilted head.

“And I’m not going,” Steve adds.

Now it’s your turn to shoot up. “WHAT?”

Steve doesn’t turn to you. He won’t look you in the eye. “Take her back. I’ll…get myself together while you find—“

“No,” Bucky grits out.

“Hey, dipshits. What list,” you try again, stepping between the two towering men.

“It’s a long story, and we need to get back before dawn.” Bucky walks to the door. “All three of us,” he adds for emphasis.

Nope. You’re way too sick of this charade.

“Seems like the dead guy’s got nothing but time,” you snip, standing unmoved.

“Sweetheart, Buck’s right. You’re still in danger.”

Bucky takes that as a good sign. “So smother the fire and let’s go.”

“Well, if you’re safe here, then so am I.” You turn to Bucky and repeat. “I won’t leave him.”

Bucky, to his credit, swallows hard at hearing the same words from Steve’s funeral, but it’s Steve who grabs your arms to turn you towards him.

“I don’t even think the water is okay for you to drink. It can’t be much longer.“ He warily eyes his friend behind you. “How close? What’s the intel?”

“Agent only known as ‘the fisherman.’” Bucky straightens, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “We’ve got next to nothing, but it’s the only one left and he—or she, as Nat reminds me—has to be the leak from inside the compound.”

You’re playing catch up in a race while cut off at the knees. “So not a list. Just a pseudonym. And they are inside the compound? Surely Tony’s been able to find—“

“Stark doesn’t know about him,” Bucky mutters, “or this.”

“There’s a—“ you have to pinch the bridge of your nose, too tired to process “—you two know there’s a traitor where we live and decided I couldn’t know, but you ALSO didn’t tell the genius—”

“Nat is plenty help with the online tra—“

“Because you were the target,” Steve barks.

Your head is spinning and sitting back down doesn’t help. “Then why did you DIE?"

Steve walks over to kneel at your side again, but he won’t reach out to touch you. His eyes are dark with shame, his face laced with fatigue and regret, but he says nothing.

It’s Bucky who starts. “You couldn’t know because if you acted like Steve was still alive, they’d know. Potentially dozens of people ready and willing to kidnap you and he’d still be at risk.”

You have to cock your head at that logic. “Did it ever occur to you that I could be genuinely sad and angry because my husband and I were threatened?”

The men go quiet again for a moment while you consider what Bucky just confessed. Dozens of names down to one. Steve hasn’t helped. Tony didn’t know. So far you only recognized Natasha’s involvement willingly. And Bucky said ‘you don’t know what I’ve done.’ The whole damn cabin is soaked in blood and tears you can’t even see. Everyone—everyone—here is in so much pain that they are more strangers than themselves.

What a fucking mess.

The intention is to bury your face in your hands, but you aren’t sure where the miscommunication between your mind and body happens. Instead, you end up launching into Steve’s arms, face buried in the layered collars of old sweaters, and you cling there until he wraps you gently in his hold. Your hands meet at a completely different place around his thinner shoulders.

It’s horrifying. But it can’t be undone. All you can do is problem solve.

“None of this is going to find the Fisherman or get him home faster. We need to leave.” Bucky seems to sense that a compromise is necessary.

Steve doesn’t want to leave. Bucky doesn’t want you to be seen. They both say you can’t stay here. (They’re both gonna get their asses handed to them as soon as this mess is handled by you, apparently.)

Sitting back on your heels to look at your living, breathing, hairy, sick husband, you offer an option that you hate. However, if it will end this nightmare as soon as possible, you’ll take it.

“So one name, right? Shouldn’t be that long?” You swallow heavily, brushing a hand to Steve’s chest while flashing what you hope is a reassuring smile. “We can…uh…maybe leave some food so he’s not…” Nope, it’s too hard to dwell on that. “I can call in sick to work. Winter cold. Make it run through Christmas if necessary. No one will think it’s because…yeah.”

You are so angry—furious, positively incensed—but those blue eyes you’ve dreamed about for months are right there, the soft hair that flows through your fingers is releasing real tangles, and the lips hiding beneath his facial hair are tangibly chapped. You run your thumb over them, just to be sure.

Bucky seems to relax a little. “Sold.”

“It’s Christmas,” Steve asks softly.

Oh god, that about breaks your already chewing-gum repaired heart.

You point a finger at Bucky. “And if you think you’re ever getting an apology for hitting you—“

“You call that a hit, nerd? More of a nudge really—“

“Fuck you, perv—“

“Alright,” Steve hisses, “let’s just all…” He coughs but then he can’t stop.

You and Bucky glare at Steve, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“He can’t stay here,” you whisper to Bucky. So much for the plan. So much for compromise. You’ll make Bucky carry him as promised.

“Keeps, please. You’re not safe yet,” Steve sputters when he can get words out.

“We need to get back before dawn,” Bucky encourages.

“Seriously, which one of you is—” You go to get Steve a drink and hold in a scream. “At least get him some safe water.”

“I can handle the water,” Steve tries between wheezes, “just give me a minute.”

“Fine, we will go get him supplies in the jet,” Bucky offers, hand waving toward the door, “and then we—you and I—leave. Good?”

“No, it’s not fucking good.” You look back at Steve holding his breath and focusing on not coughing. It’s not a good plan, but it will have to do. Suddenly you think about that. Is it what they thought when they started all this? It’s not a good plan, but it will have to do. At least no one is really dead…yet.

“Honey—” you smooth your hands over his shoulders and lean to kiss his head “—we’ll be right back.”

Steve petulantly stands, heaving out a sigh finally but without any cough. “I can help,” he mumbles and then stronger, “I can help.”

When you catch Bucky’s eye, Bucky winks at you and opens the door. Hopefully, that means that he’ll just knock Steve out in the jet before his (maybe actual) death march back out here, but you can’t confirm that you two are on the same page. No one in this room has been on the same page for months, and you’re starting to fear, years.

Standing on the porch, you look to Steve. Normally, he would pick you up and carry you, but this is a challenge. You don’t forgive him yet because you sincerely don’t understand. You love Steve Rogers; you always have. Even before you met him, you would have said you loved the man Steve is. You know he’s trustworthy. You know he’s moral and that his heart is always in the right place. You know he is thoughtful and considerate, and so if this is what he chose, he hasn’t changed.

You harbored those crazy hopes for months, longed for more time, clung to sharper memories. So he is alive. What did you think he was doing? Surely this is a better outcome than being a P.O.W. held by an enemy and tortured. From the looks of him, all that happened; he was just his own enemy. Why doesn’t that help you feel better?

He’s guarded and hesitant like those early days of your courtship when he didn’t know where to put his hands or how to ask. He’s allowed to, right? You think about that. Is your husband allowed to touch you now? Do you want him to?

The first word to flood your mind is ‘yes.’ He’s still your husband, and you made vows, and damn it, you missed him so fucking much it hurts. Everything is fresh and fragile and deep like the snow at the bottom of the stairs.

You hold out your hand to Steve, and you know he stares down at it. You can’t make out any specific features when plunged into only moonlight again, but the weight of his pause means he understands. He knows the gesture means something. It also feels as if you both aren’t quite sure what it all means, but you both want it.

Bucky walks on past, leading the way, hand still on his gun.

Instead of staying side-by-side, Steve slides his hand under yours and lets his other wrap your waist, standing slightly behind you.

“Try to use Buck’s prints,” he whispers. “Might be easier.”

When you flip your fingers over, you can feel how rough his hands are, much rougher than you remember. He hasn’t had his suit gloves on for months and has done more manual labor than ever. It’s simply another difference that surprises you, just like the difference in how new his proximity feels, his breath near your ear, his grip at your side. It makes you swallow thickly.

Steve feels new now, unfamiliar in a way that makes you feel like you’re cheating on his memory. Which is patently ridiculous. That’s absurd, but it doesn’t stop your body from sweating under even the light pressure of the hand on your side, barely there through the thick down of your coat.

If he notices your tension rising, Steve doesn’t say a word about it. He follows behind you slowly and mutters “come on, love, let’s get you home” so quietly you might be imagining it. His same tender care is present in every step, keeping your balance while keeping his distance, supportive while giving you space. The thoughtfulness lands differently now. Something still needs to be earned.

When the jet is finally in sight, Steve attempts to start several questions.

“When did…”

“Do you…”

“Why would they…”

He never completes a single one. Though he must be desperate to have a real conversation, and he’s anxious enough to try in a silent forest during the dead of night on god knows what continent, he seems afraid of the answers.

In the corner of one of Bucky’s tracks, there’s a rock, and your foot catches it at just the wrong angle. Your ankle rolls outward. Down you go. These big boots are coming undone.

“I’m fine,” you assure Steve as he helps you up. It’s only fifty yards more to the jet. “I’m taking these off and going home in socks though.”

“Trade you?” Steve’s voice reeks of a sly smile. “Mine are done in.”

You huff a chuckle. He’s endearing even when infuriating, the little—

“Punk,” Bucky calls softly, sick of waiting, “let’s get a move on.”

No sooner have you heard the first thunk of rubber on the ramp than you are pulling at the laces.

“You okay,” Steve checks.

Well, that’s a loaded fucking question. His face falls, bathed in light from the cargo bay. He’s opening his mouth again to correct the wording but you cut him off.

“Go ahead.”

You’re happy Bucky’s keeping him busy. They’re chatting, and Steve is all too eager to have a conversation that’s not with himself. You can tell by how your husband actively encourages their banter, even though Buck’s cursing. With any luck, Steve will be subdued and strapped down (or whatever Bucky’s gonna do) by the time you get up there because these stupid dark laces on these huge dumb boots are—

For the second time tonight, a hand claps over your mouth and pulls you back off the ramp and into the snow and shadow. The shuffling sleeves of your puffy coat make more noise than your muffled yelp of shock. You can still hear the men talking up inside the jet. You’re hauled back.

One step. Two steps. Nearly ten strides go by before you hear boots echoing on the metal ramp again.

“Keeps,” Steve calls, voice still a little hoarse from coughing.

A harsh and low shh brushes your ear.

“What the hell,” Bucky mutters, drawing his gun and walking straight for you.

That’s when you feel the cold, hard metal muzzle against your temple.

“Sorry, Soldier,” a deep voice says behind you, “this is not how this was supposed to play out.”

Steve is still slow to catch up to Bucky. “YOU?”

“Ah-ah, that’s close enough, Captain.”

You can’t see who it is, and he hasn’t said enough to recognize the voice. It’s hard to concentrate when his arm shifts from your mouth to your throat. You have to gasp for each breath.

“Too bad there’s not enough resources left to take the pair o’ ya. Two super soldiers would have been better than one any day…” The muzzle pinches against your skin, making you hiss in pain.

“But you,” Steve stays where he is, hands not up in surrender but not relaxed either, “you helped. You killed those three intruders.”

“Ramone?!” The name comes out garbled with his hold so tight.

“Well, I told those idiots which door not to come in, but—why am I even bothering? This isn’t storytime. Hand the gun to Cap there, Bucko. No need to make a scene of it. Either of you so much as blinks out of turn, and I shoot ‘er.”

You scrabble to hold the forearm choking you, clawing at strong flesh, grip slipping when he doesn’t yield, and your one hand drags down across your watch, harshly scraping your knuckles.

Steve looks at Bucky. There’s an unspoken agreement as Steve slowly takes Bucky’s weapon but keeps it pointed at the ground. He looks back up at you, but his face is so obscured from under his long hair, you can’t tell he’s thinking.

“Kill him,” Ramone ‘Triple Crown’ Costa, the long-time security guard at AvIn Main Campus, orders flatly. “Three to the head. Three to the chest. Should do it.”

Wait. Your watch. Tony Stark’s watch.

You relax your grip on Ramone’s arm, and he shifts in perceived victory.

“That’s the choice. You blow Barnes’s brains out, or I do hers.”

Steve lifts the gun without hesitation, and Bucky looks right at his best friend and nods.

“There’s,” you choke out, “—a—“ tap “—third—“ tap “—option,” twist “—asshole.”

“No, sweetheart. The men are talking.” Ramone shoves his nose into your hair, lowering the muzzle of his gun a few inches to the dip of your neck.

You pull hard at the watch face, manifesting metal dragging over your fingers to cover your palm, and you shove your hand up past your ear. The whine of the repulser is deafening, and the force of the blast takes your captor down while his arm still grips your throat.

While your ears ring, the world spins.

Then it’s dark and silent.

(Next part)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #fanfic #fools rush in #steve x you #steve rogers fanfiction #series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction

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mobius-m-mobius · 6 months

Note

Bottle Rocket anon reporting in 🫡

First off I very much appreciate your note about Bob’s big brother in fact being Owen’s big brother—I did think Future Man had a curiously outsized role in the behind the scenes. Granted, that behind the scenes’ whole vibe was ‘we emailed everyone involved, professionally shot three who turned up, and stuck in the self-filmed rambles mailed in by a smattering of others’, so I sort thought maybe his screen time was a matter of ‘well, he did in fact show up’—although itbf his being Owen’s brother doesn’t strictly discount that theory 😆 (Also my other favorite bit of that video was the very opening clip where Wes is talking about how people tend to respond strongly to his films, whether positively or negatively, and the cameraman goes, ‘well, that tells you something!’ and Wes replies with such earnest befuddlement, and a tinge of hope like this cameraman just might reveal the secret of it all to him: “Yes, but what?”

I haven’t properly sat down for another film yet, but I’ve been putting on the Night at the Museum films in the background. I have seen them before when I was pretty young—in fact it’s about the only thing I’d seen Owen Wilson in for more than a cameo pre-Loki. Between having watched the NatM movies at an age when I only vaguely distinguished between actors and characters, and the association being reinforced by Owen’s habitual cowboy hat, for a long time Owen Wilson and that excitable little man were basically synonymous in my mind.

So going back to it now was, silly though it may be, the first time I watched it going ‘oh hey—that actor right there is acting! :D’ And sure it’s no Mobius or Dignan for complexity, but it’s good acting, too! Genuinely I think it’s one of the best performances in the series when it comes to capturing the sort of cartoon-y tone of all the museum-pieces while also giving the feeling that that’s a whole person right there. And he also, once again, a completely different physicality to Mobius or Dignan. I adore the choice to play his physicality in such a way that it sometimes feels like his body just isn’t big enough to contain or express the size of his emotions.

I also didn’t realize I’d never watched the third film until I started it, which was a nice surprise. And I knew about the whole handholding bit with Jedediah and Octavius, but not the context. It has such clearly defined beats of: Oct: “We should hold hands.” Jed: “For what reason 👀” Oct: "No reason! Unrelated, I am in fact gay.” Jed: “Hell yeah, hand holding time.” (With an added dash of sweetness in that it’s become a well-defined character trait that Jed is ready to deploy his dying speech at any time, but once it’s been established as on the table he goes, ‘I’d rather just be close to you, actually). Anyway, to me at any rate it plays as ‘close to canon as we could get away with in a big budget 2014 kids movie’, and I do appreciate it.

Hi again Bottle Rocket anon, always a pleasure!! 😊🚀💖

Oh I'm positive you're right about Andrew getting such a big role in the bts documentary just because he showed up regardless of being Owen's brother lmao, but they did luck out considering of everyone involved from an acting perspective he was the most likely one to actually give them decent talking points regarding the process leading up to filming, set vibes, and more insight on Owen and Wes than Owen and Wes themselves actually wanted to 😂

Definitely feel you too about not finding time to sit for another movie as I'm just the same and when I do manage enough free time to start one it's still not even enough to finish in a single sitting 😅 You're not the first who's mentioned NatM being the main association with Owen pre-Loki which is completely understandable, I hadn't seen any of the movies until after Loki S1 and would've been way happier having grown up with an excitable mini cowboy at the forefront of my mind, lol.

Love that you brought up his physicality and setting the vibe because one major thing that's constantly delighted me about Owen is how he naturally adjusts to not only the tone of a film but the other actors in a scene better than anyone I've seen before and I think people really underestimate how valuable that is?? It's easy to think "oh well that's just what acting is" but actually pulling it off across such a huge range of genres the way that he does is really rare and like you mentioned in NatM it's extremely noticeable that he makes Jed feel real in a very exaggerated premise which also stands out massively in his cameos where I always find myself wishing whatever movie took place during the ten minutes he showed up in is the full movie I was actually watching because he's such a breath of fresh air.

Also constantly get caught up in the way he carries himself because that's such a huge element to the personality of his characters! In comparison to how Dignan approaches people in a unexpectedly blunt way that leaves them wanting more and Mobius intrigues in such a genuine manner that catches everyone off guard, for all Jed's teasing he's direct enough that Octavius knows where he stands but not so much so that there isn't room for the big dramatic moments they both enjoy before settling right back at his side. It's not only nice to see they did get as close to canon as likely was possible in such a big budget kids movie but that we all at least have a lasting ship of Owen's with a happy ending to console ourselves with after the Loki finale! Small victories and all that, haha

#honestly the natm movies are peak watching for any moment whether they be main focus or background or pure comfort #just solid all arounders which is true of any of his movies to me they're genuinely SO satisfying #on my last work trip there was a back to back natm/meet the parents marathon airing and god help me i watched every minute #no regrets 😭😂#as always appreciate your messages so much and love hearing that owen continues being such a nice surprise!!#thank you so much for the ask and sending lots of love your way to have a great week and some upcoming free time 🥰💖#ask

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showfallmediacameracrew · 10 months

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[This post was made using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech. If you believe there's been an error and would like to end Showfall Media Text-To-Speech, please say 'End transcript'. ]

[Sound of careful footsteps and something soft brushing against the floor, something heavy scraping or pushed aside]

[Nonverbal input detected. Registered: cleared throat]

J: Hey.

S: Well hello there… are you lost? I'm sure I can take you back to your set.

J: Nah, I'm good. This shit might make you think otherwise, but I’m a DP, not an actor. Just taking a break from shooting, thought it’d be fun to see what broke.

S: Ah… I see. Well, here it is. Luckily, it's a lot of nothing. Though I think maybe I should talk to Hetch about how much they are underutilizing the space they have, seriously, use the whole mall if you're going to have a whole mall…

J: The person who did this definitely took advantage that no one was around. Wasn't even brave enough to try and kill anybody. It would have been much more impressive if someone had managed that.

[Nonverbal input detected. Registered: huff of breath and brief silence]

J: I’m Jasprix, who are you? You look like the type who wouldn't appreciate being called Purple Lady, or something less polite.

S: You can call me Squig, and did I hear you right? You know who did… all this?

J: You're named like the Mascot?

S: I am the one who plays Squiggles after all. Or well, most of the time.

J: Oh shit, that's cool. I thought it was just like a computer thing or AI or something.

[Nonverbal input detected. Registered as: short quick chuckle]

J: Anyways, yeah. I know the name of the guy who failed to do anything actually interesting or permanent. Guy decided minor inconvenience is his whole existence. I have no idea where he is though.

S: They never end up doing anything permanent, they always care too much about 'the people' to do anything too drastic. I've seen it plenty of times before. Anyways, a name would be helpful regardless of a lack of location.

J: It’s so funny too, so easy to anger while thinking he’s hot shit and accomplished nothing. His name is Marvin, I guess he escaped the little kiddy show he was put in.

S: Marvin… Marvin…

[Sound of a thick fabric tapping against a screen]

S: Ah, yes, there does seem to be a missing actor with the name Marvin, and he was missing even before the explosions. Which makes sense, hard to rig multiple explosives while acting in… "The Little Healer"... is Hetch trying to write kid shows again?

J: Considering I met the child playing the healer, and she tried to heal my fake wings, yeah. Hetch made a cool ass movie then decided to do a kids show spinoff for it. Marvin’s wizard costume looked stupid.

[Sound of rustling as something is lifted up from the floor, then dropped abruptly back]

J: There's a few kids shows going on here I think, I've seen kids around sometimes. I’m more involved in all the horror projects going on. Those ones actually needed the explosives he stole from wherever the hell he got them from.

S: Yeah I'm… I'm definitely talking to Hetch about tighter security around those kinds of things. They should not have gone missing without anyone noticing, much less been missing long enough to actually be rigged up and used.

[Nonverbal input detected. Registered as: quiet long sigh]

S: And I really wish Hetch would just leave the kids shows to other writers, they really need to stick to what they're best at…

J: Heh, they had a guy crushed by rocks in front of the healer girl for a scene of the movie. I don’t think they knew what rating they were going for, or forgot it was meant to be for kids. Or forgot what show they were writing for, if there's no other writers here besides them.

S: Of course they did. And admittedly I'm not sure if there's other writers at this facility, at the very least, none of them have been marked as missing according to my list.

J: Yeah, speaking of that, could I be given some sort of permission to be allowed to leave the mall and go places? Like I’ll come back obviously, because I have great fun doing all the stuff I do, but I’d like to be able to wander without the potential threat of security thinking I’m on the lam and gutting me. It’s not my idea of a fun time.

[Time between spoken input: 4 seconds]

J: It also takes so long to heal and regain limbs from near misses. And only so many times I can bite and drink the same people's blood before it gets old.

S: Hmm, well I can't promise anything, but I'll be sure to put in a good word. You certainly seem like the kind of person who wouldn't cause too many problems for Showfall if let out.

J: That’s all I can ask for honestly, if you can't authorize it yourself. It’s basically literally the place I was raised, it’s definitely my home. It’s given me a lot of cool things too, that I totally appreciate.

S: There's not a lot of people who'd say that kind of thing, so it's definitely another point in your favor! But yeah, not the kind of thing I can really authorize, I'm only really here to help repair and round up any missing employees.

J: Well, if I do get allowed to go out, I could help find people if you havent been able to by that point. My sense of smell is better then normal. Not sure by how much though, never really had the chance to test that.

S: We do need all the help we can get… Well I'll be sure to keep that in mind, but I'm afraid I can't stick around for much longer, much to be done around here, even if there were no organic victims.

J: Yeah, I won’t keep you. Nice to meet the person behind the mascot too, that’s really cool. Maybe I’ll see you later, but I’ll let you get back to your thing. Gotta get back to the recording station, good luck finding Marvin!

S: Thank you, ta-ta!

[ Sound of heavy footsteps retreating]

[ Sounds of brief pleased humming, then more things brushing along the ground as a more careful set of footsteps are heard, the heavier steps getting quieter the longer the shuffling and steps sound]

J: He’ll probably need the luck more, but fuck if it won't be more interesting then anything he tried to do.

J: She was cool, awesome to know that the little guy wasn’t just an AI. Probably good I didn’t try, or ask, to bite her either. Especially after getting some assurance she’d do me a solid and ask. Even if it doesn't come too much until later.

J: Yeah, I’m not going to do a fucking running commentary. End Transcript.

[Transcript has been ended. Thank you for using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech! Posting... ]

#showfall ask blog #showfall media ask blog #showfall camera operator #showfall media #generation loss #showfall jasprix #have fun marvin #encoreverse blog

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aurimeanswind · 3 months

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Letter #2: Hey Old Friend

This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while, consider it a thought experiment or hell, maybe even personal therapy. Writing the preface here, before diving in, this could end up being too personal, too dark or too much, I don’t know. I know that there is that risk, meaning maybe this never goes public anywhere, but it’s something I’ve wanted to try and do, so I’m going to do it, and we’ll see what I have to say.

—

Dear Alex,

Hey sweetheart. I know, it feels like it’s been a while since we last talked, and I’m sorry for that. I hope you know I do think about you all the time. You’re so deep in my thoughts sometimes it’s a detriment to how I live, to what I do. But there are little sparkles of you there, every now and again, and sometimes they hurt a lot, but sometimes they make me really happy too.

I know, you’re probably too old for the “it gets better” speech. I get it. I think me sitting here and rambling on about how we’re doing so much better seems kind of shitty, to be honest. I wanted to add some focus, to tell you about things you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it’s a little thing, and it’s just fucking awesome– you know like when you walk into the bathroom and there is the big mirror on the wall, and you have to stop for a second and think… that’s me?

Remember that first dream we had together, where you walked into the bathroom and you looked like me, and you were flabbergasted? It wasn’t the change and how silly the rest of the dream was, it was how good it felt. How right it felt. It’s like that in real life sometimes–not all the time, but enough of the time, and it’s only getting to be more and more. I know in that dream you went on to try and explain to your friends that you were a girl now, and they didn’t understand. I remember how you went to work and they told you you didn’t work there, that you weren’t the right person, but that was wrong. I just wanted you to know they were wrong. I know that haunted you a lot, how it felt so good but so hard at the same time, and the difficulty gets easier. You level up, you know how this works by now.

The double-take in the bathroom still happens all these months later you know, and it really doesn’t get old. I’m sure someday it will, I know it’ll just fall into the background and the bad things, the stagnancy might come back, but I know now you just can’t think like that. It’s about those walking-in-and-seeing-the-mirror moments, those are the little bits of glue that stick the whole world together, that get you through this week to tomorrow, to the next breath, and so on.

Also, you’re gonna feel confident. Maybe not “OnlyFans” confident but hey, I’ll let you know, you’re gonna feel a lot closer to that than you think right now, which is kind of awesome. You’re gonna look great. You’re gonna like how you look, what you wear. You’re going to feel stylish and even beautiful sometimes. I know you never got to feel that before… I’m sorry, we should have talked sooner. Should have opened the door sooner, and sometimes I think about how it’s our fault, but also you only get one journey through life, and this one isn’t all bad.

It gets hard. The feelings are hard. It’s going to open up those old wounds. Remember all those times with family where you were hurting so much, but you just bottled it up? They’re gonna come back. They hurt a lot more now. You’re going to realize that those things messed you up a lot more than you like to let on. All those times you felt like you were heartless because you felt nothing, or close to nothing, when something bad happened? All those times where it was so hard to cry? That’ll stop, but the floodgates are going to be open. That first time it’ll feel like you’re grieving everything for the first time. That the world is on fire and you’re burning too. It’s going to hurt a lot hun, and I’m sorry. Trial by fire is the whole experience, it’s part of who you are, and you’ll learn to embrace it even if it feels impossible sometimes.

Those times where you’re so torn up, like it’s razor blades inside and nothing else, and you just want to find a way to end it– that will change. It’s the good news part of it. It’s not like it’ll never happen again, but you’re going to find that you actually really want to live. Part of it is for the people who don’t, who pass on and who leave you, leave everyone, but the bigger part is because you’re going to start liking life again. I know it sounds almost impossible to believe, if you had told us that it would get this good even just three years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you either– but it does. It gets good honey, I can’t wait for you to see what it feels like.

Then there are all the things you think are going to change, but don’t, and the things you don’t think are going to change, that do. Remember hoping that you might find rhythm, hell maybe you’re secretly musically talented but the testosterone was what was killing it? Nope. Sorry, the butter-fingers shit doesn’t stop either. That actually gets worse. Keep a packet of bandaids on you all the time, you’ll be going through them constantly.

It’s really easy to be alone now, and that’s good, and I know you’re having fun with it, and I’m glad. But listen, and I mean this in the nicest way hun, you’re a fucking hermit. Just text someone, anyone sometime! It’s alright, this gets better, that part at least. But it’s gonna be really hard to be alone. I know you liked being single, but it’s because you hate your body, you think no one is going to love it, and hey, they kind of aren’t, not in the time that you’re like you are now. But the loneliness is going to come back. I couldn’t tell you if it’s because of the grief, or the way attention feels now, but being alone is going to fucking suck. You’ll go from intro-to-extro faster than you can even imagine. It’s gonna be pretty sudden too, it’ll be one month, everything like that is normal, and the next you’ll be crying yourself to sleep every night because of how lonely it feels. You’ve got good friends, you still do, some new ones too, that are amazing women that fill your life with light, so don’t be afraid–you’ll manage.

It’s definitely weird, because you’ll like the sunlight. You’ll like being outside, and that’s a strange feeling for the little girl who was pale as the moon and pretended to hiss when the curtains opened–but now it’s like it’s charging you up. You’ll love lipstick, and make up, and the breeze on your shaved legs. You’ll like the smell of things, the warmth of things. Touch is going to drive you crazy, and when people reach out to your hand it’ll make your head spin. All those little things really add up, I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but they do.

There are good and bad things. Old pains that cut like daggers for the first time in 20 years, and new loves that take your attention away from video games, or Marvel movies, or things you like a lot right now. But it’s exciting to try new things! You know how you always wanted to be a book girlie? Well I’ve got good news! You decided to try it and you really, really love it. Oh, and the sexy books are still your favorite, more than ever.

I’ve rambled on for long enough (yeah, that doesn’t stop, it just gets worse) but I wanted to leave you with one last thing:

I love you. I really do. I know sometimes, we’d look at ourselves, and we didn’t. We hated it. We hated looking into those eyes that seemed so dark, thinking about all the people we hurt, the women we didn’t respect, the mistakes we made… But it’s different now. You’re taking the steps to be authentic, to be you, and I love you. I really, truly do. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and I mean it when I say that. I know it’s dumb, but it gets better. Keep going, and you’ll see what kind of adventures are ahead of you.

Spoilers: it’s pretty fucking great.

Your love, your friend, your confidant,

Auri

#mtf #trans #transition story #self reflection

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felawnie · 2 years

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Top 5 D&D monsters?

Mmkay so since I still haven't looked anything I'm just gonna answer this. I'll admit, I reblogged the top 5 thing, not because I expected anyone to do it, but because I'd hoped a mutual would reblog it and then I would tease her because I'm awful like that. ADDITIONALLY I MUST ADMIT...I, uh, don't play DnD. I tried once! I did! I thought hey, it's over the internet and they can't see me and I've gotten SO GOOD at faking extroversion, I MUST be over the stage fright. I was wrong and when the DM said I could join in whenever I felt like it, my voice froze and I went nonverbal for a good 30-45 minutes. So, I reblog DnD things cause they sound interesting and people put a lot of thought into them and that's always fun but I really know nothing. So! Top 5 DnD monsters from the ignorant!! 5. Abyssal Chicken. I have no idea what it is at all. My one friend linked me a list of DnD monsters so I could actually come up with an answer to this and I saw that on there and it sounds hilarious. 4. Slimes Am I added this mainly because Minecraft slimes are so fucking cute? You can prove nothing. Slimes are iconic monsters. I fought cubes in the sewers of Qeynos in EQ and I fought oozes in the swamps of WoW and yes I've kept baby slimes as pets in Minecraft...I actually kinda have experience with slimes! And the first one I ever met murdered me horribly when I was just trying to kill some rats in a sewer so. 3. Mimics That one group I almost joined and instead spectated for a while had a lil baby mimic come along with them. His name was Jeffrey Nibbles. The cutest little formal voiced fucker EVER. 2. Gith Are they a monster? I don't think they're a monster. Then again, the list that my friend gave me and that I glanced at for 2 second had Arakrokra(sp???????? it's different from WoW, that's all I know!) on it and I'm pretty sure those are PEOPLE and I don't consider people monsters?? But if the bird people are on there then whatever, I can put whatever antagonistic people I want. Gith look cool, they dress cool, and they aren't going to inflict horrible flowery speeches on you like shiny paladins will. Also there was that one Gith lady everyone was horny for a while there from...Baldur's Gate I think? They were right to be horny for her. 1. Displacer Beasts! It's a kitty! Who eats magic! Take THAT, casters!! Pretty pretty kitty that I love. Do I know anything else about them? NOPE. I don't need to. They have plenty of legs for speed and tentacles for hugs and fur for petting. My main experience with THESE is that back in high school, a friend wanted to dm a DnD group of friends, told us to get figurines, and when I went to the store I got a normal character one but also a displacer beast cause I kinda hoped she'd let me play as one, LMAO. Anyway the group never even started, partially because another friend tried to insist on godmoding and making his character into a high lvl with tons of perks and. We're supposed to be starting at lvl 1, my guy. Anyway he just sat and argued with her about it the whole time we were doing the stuff to make characters and when she asked who would be coming next time it was just me and him who said yes. And so the next session never happened. But displacer beasts are still fun.

Sorry this took so long. I intended to actually look at DnD monsters and give a sensible answer but, uh, it's been almost 10 days and I haven't so I have to assume I won't. And thus, you get this mess. Enjoy.

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Caught in the Fire 13 - Consumed [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! ❤ Here’s an early chapter, I hope you like it as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!❤

Extra thanks to @alyssiamarierenee for coming up with the letter idea! 😁

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Secrets lead to confessions.

Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, drinking, physical injuries, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Sometimes, you thought your friends were more involved in your love life than you were, and that belief got stronger and stronger every single time you talked to them about any guy.

Not that you could blame them. Considering how your love life was currently in shambles.

“Okay wait, start from the beginning.”

“It was insane!” you exclaimed, “It was freaking—I’d never seen either of them like that before!”

Summer sipped her drink as Hunter leaned on the counter, still behind the bar even if there were no customers.

“Like what?”

“Like…” you waved your hands around, “You know in those documentaries there are—there are those stags that bump antlers with each other? It was like that but with words.”

“Are you really surprised that they hate each other?” Jace asked you, “They both want to fuck you.”

“Jace!”

“He has a point.”

“Not you too!” you told Hunter, “And besides, I don’t think Alex wants…that.”

“How a grown woman can be so blind, I will never understand.”

“He’s my friend!” you insisted, “He said so the other night, we’re friends.”

“The fact that he’s your friend doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to fuck you.”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“Hey, maybe you can get it on after that PTA meeting.”

“Jace!” You made a face, putting your glass on the counter again. “That’s—“

“Come on, you guys didn’t have that empty classroom fantasy?”

“I did,” Hunter held up a hand and Summer shook her head.

“I had a library fantasy, does that count?”

“You guys are gross.”

“Whatever you say, nun.”

“Even if Alex sees me like that, and that’s a big if,” you said, “it’d be a bad idea to get involved with him. He’s Emma’s teacher, and it’d just confuse her so much not to mention I’m sure there’s some sort of a rule—”

“The reason why you think it’s a good idea isn’t because he’s Em’s teacher Y/N, it’s because he’s not Barnes.”

Your jaw dropped. “That’s not true!”

“Oh yes it is.”

You looked around the empty bar, heaving a sigh before burying your face into your hands. Hunter patted you on the back as if trying to console you while Jace repressed a laugh.

“I seriously don’t understand this obsession with this dude,” Summer stated and you shook your head.

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m staying away, aren’t I?” you asked, “It’s the right thing to do. Not to mention his mom will be thrilled.”

“To repeat, you’d be bitter as well if you were cheated on that much.”

You furrowed your brows. “I have been cheated on before.”

“You were cheated on once, that woman has been cheated on her whole life. Probably like right after the honeymoon.”

“Well I can’t exactly feel sorry for her after the way she treated me.”

“Mob wives,” Summer murmured. “You know what they’re like. I don’t think I’ve seen any pleasant ones.”

“Maybe Barnes will get a pleasant one?” Jace wiggled his brows and Hunter smacked him behind the head. The mere thought of him getting married was more than enough to twist your stomach and you shifted in your seat, pressing your lips together.

“So did you guys hear about this new turf war?” Hunter changed the subject “The safety measures at the bar are insane nowadays, around the whole block even.”

“Who’s fighting who this time?”

“No idea,” Hunter said. “I just know that we got the old safety speech again by the boss.”

“Oh the one where you all know what they mean but no one is actually saying it?”

“Bucky used to say it’s for precaution and to ensure civilian advantage or something,” you mused. “To keep them out of it.”

“Maybe Stark and Barnes? They’ve never gotten along well.”

“No, I saw them talking recently. Sounded like they were on the same side.” You checked your wristwatch. “I gotta get back to the bakery. See you guys later?”

“Be careful!”

“Stay away from mobsters!”

You scrunched up your nose at them and walked out of the bar, still grinning to yourself. Even though it took you longer than usual to get to the bakery because of the traffic, you still managed to reach there before your lunch time was over. As soon as you stepped into the bakery, you heard your name being called and you turned your head to see Becca Barnes and Sarah Wilson sitting at the table by the window. Becca waved at you and you lingered there for a moment before making your way to the table.

“Afternoon ladies,” you said. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Sit with us for a moment.”

“I should probably go back to the kitchen—“

“Just for a moment,” Sarah said. “We should plan that play date too.”

You checked over your shoulder, then took a seat and pushed your hair behind your ear.

“How are AJ and Cass?” you asked and Sarah smiled.

“They’re fine, how about Emma?”

“She’s alright.”

“I still owe you a thousand ‘thank you’s.” Becca said, “That birthday cake was amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“And I heard that you and my idiot of a brother stopped talking,” Becca sang. “I told Sarah it’d last a week.”

Sarah scoffed a laugh. “I only heard the stories, I’ve never seen you two together.”

A fire swept over your face and you shook your head. “Um— we were friends, and now we’re not.”

Becca rolled her eyes and shot Sarah a knowing look. “You’ll know what I mean when you see them.”

“It’s not like that. We just decided it was the right thing to do, to stop talking to each other.”

“Of course,” Becca said, sipping her coffee. “Completely logical. That sounds like my brother.”

“Does it?”

“No!” Becca said, “Bucky is never logical when it comes to you, you know that. Hell, the whole town knows that.”

You pressed your lips together.

“How is he?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Because I shouldn’t,” you said. “You know why.”

“Actually I don’t know why,” Becca said. “He doesn’t tell me anything, he just sulks all day.”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, he was all sulky the last time I saw him.”

“You know one of the reasons why I shouldn’t be friends with him,” you pointed out and Becca made a face.

“My mom? Oh please.”

“Winnifred doesn’t like you?” Sarah asked and you shook your head.

“No, and please don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to know.”

“I can keep a secret,” Sarah said, stealing a look at Becca, “That’s a huge problem though.”

“He’s a grown man. If he and his buddies act like they rule this city, he should have no problem with telling mom off.”

“Speaking of, I wanted to ask you—“ you leaned in slightly, “Who’s at war?”

“I’m not a part of the business, I wouldn’t know.”

You tilted your head, keeping your eyes on her and she shifted her weight before shrugging her shoulders.

“An outside gang, you wouldn’t know them. They’re assholes though.”

“Where do you live?” Sarah asked and you bit inside your cheek.

“Um—Rogers territory.”

“I don’t think it’ll spread there, don’t worry. Sam and Bucky are working on it.”

You let out a breath. “Okay,” you said. “Okay, great. Um— I should really get back to the kitchen.”

“So, Sunday for the play date?” Sarah said and you nodded.

“That’d be awesome,” you said as you stood up. “By the way, just fyi, I think Em has a crush on AJ. She keeps talking about him.”

Sarah awwed and Becca pressed a hand on her chest.

“That’s so cute. Maybe they can dress up as a couple for you and Buck’s wedding.”

Your eyes widened while Sarah let out a laugh.

“We’re not even talking, Becca!” you said and she waved a hand in the air.

“Like I said, I give it a week.”

You heaved a sigh. “Enjoy your coffee, ladies,” you said and walked to the kitchen, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks.

You got home later than usual and when you got there, you were too tired to even move from the couch. You knew you were supposed to take a shower and go straight to bed but somehow, you could just lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan.

You had maybe 15 minutes of peace and you could swear you were starting to doze off when a gunshot echoed through the street, making you sit up straighter, your heart slamming against your chest. You grabbed the phone to open the group chat and quickly typed in;

Gunshot report?

It took Summer, Hunter and Jace only a couple of seconds to type back;

Check.

“Fuck,” you cursed, getting on your feet. That meant there were gunshots not only in Steve’s territory, but Sam’s, Natasha’s and—

Bucky’s.

You nibbled on your lip before finding his name in your contacts, and after a moment’s hesitation, you typed in the text.

Everything okay?

You turned the phone in your hand and stood up to pace in the room, all the sleepiness leaving your body at once. Your thoughts were like a storm in your head, multiple scenarios of everything that could go wrong flashing before your eyes and you lingered in the middle of the living room before letting out a breath.

“Fuck it,” you murmured, grabbing the car keys but as soon as you did, your phone started vibrating in your hand. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Bucky’s name and you touched the screen before taking it to your ear.

“You okay?”

There was just silence on the other hand, making you frown.

“Buck?”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his voice raspy. “Yeah. Um—I’m fine—everyone’s fine, don’t worry.”

You ran a hand over your face, letting out a breath.

“There were gunshots.”

“I know. We handled it, it’s nothing to worry about. Is Emma with you?”

Your frown deepened. “No. Why?”

“Can I drop by for a moment?” he asked. “I need to see you.”

“…Yeah!” you said, “Yeah sure—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said and hung up, making you look down at the phone before putting down the car keys back to the bowl on the coffee table, and flinging yourself on the couch again.

It took him a little more than just fifteen minutes but soon enough he knocked on the door, making you dart from the couch to rush to the door to open it.

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth when you caught the sight of him. His collar and neck had splatters of blood on it, making you think that he had at least wiped his face before coming there. You stepped aside so that he could walk in, and closed the door as soon as he did.

“What happened?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked, “I need to wash my hands.”

Your gaze lowered to his bloodied hands and you nodded towards the bathroom so that he could follow you. You grabbed the nearest towel to hand it to him when he turned the tap on to keep his hands under the running water. You pressed your lips together, looking at the wounds on his knuckles as he turned the tap off.

“What happened?” you asked again and he pressed the towel on his injured hand.

“I broke a guy’s face, he…his teeth got in the way. And before you ask, he had it coming—“

“We need to clean that,” you rasped out, opening the drawer under the sink to pull out the small kit. “Come on, to the living room.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but in the end, he let you grab his other wrist and lead him to the living room. He leaned back to the table as you placed the small bag on the table, then took out the bottle of disinfectant and poured some on the gauze.

“Brings back the memories,” he murmured as you stole a look at him, then pressed the gauze on his knuckles. His hand twitched in yours and you leaned in to blow on the wound softly to at least help with the sting.

“Turf problems?”

“We’re handling it,” he murmured before resting his nose on your shoulder, the closeness of him sending a warmth through your system. You were aware of the fact that this wasn’t in any way appropriate for two people who weren’t even friends anymore but somehow—

Somehow it comforted you as much as it seemed to comfort him.

He chuckled, making you bite down a smile.

“What?”

“Irony. My hands are stained with blood and you smell like sugar.”

“They’re not stained,” you managed to say. “We’re cleaning them, see?”

His shuddered breath was warm on your skin and he nuzzled to your shoulder, making you close your eyes for a moment before you forced yourself to focus on the gauze you were pressing over the cuts.

“Say that thing,” he murmured into your shoulder and you swallowed thickly, commanding yourself to keep it together.

“What thing?”

“Say that thing you always say.”

You paused only for a moment. “Do you want a normalcy moment?”

He nodded silently before pulling back to look at you better, and you hmmed.

“Do you want to know why I smell like sugar?”

“Because you’re perfect?”

That fire swept over your cheeks again, making you scrunch up your nose.

“Not quite,” you said. “Because my cousin is an idiot.”

“Josh?”

“Yeah. He’s been working out to impress girls so everything he does has this exaggerated show of strength, and today, he slammed down a bag of powdered sugar on the counter and it exploded all over me.”

He scoffed a laugh. “Of course.”

“What else… Oh, I have to go to Emma’s PTA meeting tomorrow.”

“Fun times.”

“So much fun,” you pointed out. “And um— hey, I met Sarah. Sarah Wilson.”

“Oh Sarah is amazing.”

“She is,” you said. “We’re going to set a play date for Emma and Cass and AJ, and I’m pretty sure Em has a crush on AJ. She keeps talking about him.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” you said. “I don’t know how I feel about her having crushes, she was a baby like yesterday. I’m scared I’ll blink and she’ll be attending high school or something.”

He heaved a sigh, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“So this is how it would be then,” he said. “If we were normal. Me coming home, us talking about work and kids…”

You ignored the implication of the word we. “Exactly, there you go. It could’ve been worse. Instead of a turf war, you could’ve been handling PTA meetings and insufferable parents, can you imagine?”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah I can imagine that crystal clear.”

You shrugged your shoulders, now grabbing the bandage to start wrapping it around his knuckles. Bucky grabbed his cigarette case from his pocket with his free hand to put a cigarette between his lips, then lit it.

“White lighter?” you asked. “We talked about that.”

“That’s just a superstition Peaches.”

“Don’t temp fate,” you said and he exhaled the smoke.

“So he left me a letter.”

Your head shot up, “Hm? Who?”

“My father,” he said. “He left me a letter. I guess he wrote it when things started to go bad. Just in case.”

“What did it say?”

“He…there was a completely different side of him that I didn’t know about. None of us knew about.”

“Like what?”

“As it turns out, he was in love.”

“Oh yeah, he loved women all over the city. The whole town knows about it.”

He let out a laugh. “No. He says he was in love with a woman.”

“Your mother?”

“Nope.”

“Who then?”

“No idea. He met her before he met mom, and they were together, but his family thought my mom was a better choice for the future. Her family already knew about the business, she was a part of it… The other woman was a civilian.”

You looked up at him. “So he married your mom.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah he did. He loved her I guess, but he wasn’t in love with her. And it got me thinking— I was driving here and I was thinking about it; who did he want to see when he was dying? Those last minutes, who…who did he imagine?”

You tied the bandage before pulling your hands back.

“Because I bet it wasn’t mom,” Bucky stated. “Bet it was some woman who he couldn’t get over after decades.”

“You don’t know that.”

He took a drag of the cigarette before exhaling the smoke again.

“No, I do know that. I know that because the idea is way too familiar, and that means I’m fucked.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “It’s in my blood, it has to be.”

The meaning behind his words wasn’t lost on you, and your stomach did a hopeful flip. “Buck…”

“He fell in love with a civilian, Y/N,” he insisted, “Even if he knew better, even if they couldn’t be together. On his goddamn letter he calls her unstained by all the blood he shed, he loved her for years no matter who he was with, no matter who he touched— please tell me, am I drawing any parallels yet?”

You wetted your lips, trying to ignore the way your heart was pacing in your chest. “Bucky, it’s the…it’s the adrenaline, okay? It’ll go away. You’re high on adrenaline right now, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

He exhaled the smoke for the last time before stubbing the cigarette.

“And what’s going to be the excuse after the adrenaline is gone?” he asked you. “Because I—not talking to you feels like withdrawals, and I have a fucking letter that proves that this shit doesn’t just go away. So go on, Peaches. Give me another excuse so that I can convince myself, I need it.”

Your eyes started burning but you managed to blink back the tears.

“Bucky, we…we shouldn’t,” you managed to whisper. “We’re not supposed to; you know we’re not supposed to.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, resting his forehead on yours as his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of your neck, making you swallow thickly.

“I know,” he murmured. “Trust me, I’m aware of that. You’re not for me to touch, I’d just get blood on you. I’ve been telling myself the same thing since I came back but—“ he took a shaky breath as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, “Just tell me when it’ll go away, because I’ve been waiting for a decade and it just doesn’t. It doesn’t disappear.”

This was…

This was too much. You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you weren’t craving to be closer to him, if you weren’t craving to just lean up and press your lips to his, just—

You wanted to feel him. That was it.

You wanted to feel him until this craving inside of you wasn’t as unbearable as it was now.

“You don’t want to be my friend, fine,” he said, his voice soft. “Just be my girl then.”

You let out a breath, your eyes fluttering close as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss. Your whole body was felt as if it was on fire as his arms pulled you closer, holding you tight before he lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist without even breaking the kiss.

The logical part of you knew that it was a mistake. It was going to make everything more complicated but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to care when his kisses made every single thought disappear.

He walked to your bedroom to drop you on your bed, making a giggle escape from your lips as his body covered yours. You ran your fingernails over the nape of his neck as he pulled back to look down at you with a fond smile.

“What?” you asked, feeling him drag his fingertips up your bare legs under your dress and his gaze lingered down to your lips before snapping up to your eyes.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “It just…It feels right.”

You could swear your heart melted and you stared up at him before pulling him down to a kiss, the haze taking over you.

Bucky was right.

It felt just right.

Chapter 14

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #reader insert #mob au #mobster au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x reader

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applesontheground · 3 years

Text

touch your lips to mine 🕯️

this is what i’d consider my first smut with some sort of plot, haha! i tried to include a little bit of everything in here. a little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, and a whole lot of horny. all part of a balanced slasher x reader fic 🥣😂

NSFW | Word Count: 3,481 | Bo Sinclair x GN Reader

contains: drinking (shots in specific), overstimulation, praise, soft dom!bo (aka my favorite fucking bo), eventual degradation and hard dom!bo

🎼: x

Vincent’s hand stopped dead in its tracks, embedded into the cheekbone of his latest work in progress, when he heard a knock against the ceiling. It wasn’t the act itself, but rather that it was followed by something he only heard once in a full moon. It might as well have been as elusive as a werewolf.

His brother was laughing.

“Y’can’t say that! The hell’s wrong with you?” Bo was barking with a brash voice, but shivering coughs between his breaths signaled that he wasn’t angry. He was recovering from a fit of laughter, making his brother creep up from their father’s office to investigate. He stalked to the mouth of the hallway that lead to the living room, and sure enough the man was sitting with you on the space of floor between the sofa and the coffee table, splayed out in an informal manner.

You immediately turned to look when you caught him in the corner of your eye. “Hey, Vincent. We aren’t being too loud, are we?” You asked, face a little flushed but a smile was fighting to keep from showing on your lips. Before he could say anything, Bo clutched your shoulder. Shaking you playfully and eliciting a giggle, he muttered, “This fucking [lady/guy/kid] just said the most vile thing I think I’ve ever heard, Vince. Shit, I’on’t think I can even repeat it, and you know that’s a lot comin’ from me.”

He could see the faded smirk on his brother’s face, and then noticed the shot glasses and the good whiskey sitting on the table. It all fell into place, and he gave a wave of his hand. No problem.

You assured him, only now half-embedded in the conversation as you played with the tiny glass in your reach, “Really. We’ll keep it down. I know you have work to do.” Despite your intoxication, Vincent could feel the malleable kindness that the sober you would exert, soft to the touch and extending to everyone in your wake. It was always there, but especially apparent in this state. Even despite the horror you had been put through while finding footing in the Sinclair home, you were still somehow quick to perk up, which made life for everyone a little easier. It was almost like how he shaped the wax he worked with to bend under his will, but he wasn’t sure that he was the artist in this case.

Another hand touching you, gripping your thigh with a warmth that was rarely shown by Bo, revealed itself. The minute your kindness had been taken off him, he was making you look back with the way he squeezed your leg.

“Don’t apologize all the damn time, [Y/N].” He leaned into your face, obscuring you from Vincent’s view, and you gave him a fond tip of your chin. The amused smile didn’t hide itself, glints of your teeth mere inches away from Bo’s sloppy speech as he sighed, “You don’t have to be sayin’ sorry all the time, you hear me? You ain’t sorry for nothin’.” He laughed again, the sound once again piquing his twin’s curiosity, “But you should apologize for that fuckin’ shit you said before he came in here…Filthy fuckin’ mouth.”

You shrugged, smiling innocently at first, but then turning your attention to the whiskey. Bo glanced at Vincent, flashing him a knowing sneer. His brother looked from you – to him – to the table – then back to him. He lifted his hand carefully and signed quickly once the words found themselves.

“Be careful. Try not to break anything.”

“Sure thing.” Bo shrugged, watching you slowly direct the nozzle of the open bottle to the glasses. You were in the valley between knowing your level of drunk, but too giddy on the buzz to actually care about how close you were to the edge. He was surprisingly patient, hand nudging yours with flattened fingers when you were close to missing the glass.

With that image on his mind, Vincent slipped away again.

There was a difference between drinking alone and drinking with company. He hadn’t done it a lot growing up, and honestly neither did his brothers with the experiences they had from their parents’ habits. Still, there was a sliver of something separating him from Bo and Lester in a lot of things. Bo would brag that he frequented bonfires in high school and sometimes blacked out at them, but he never went further than that. Lester had been eager about “bar-hopping” when he was in his early twenties, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince his brothers – or anyone that he knew for a matter of fact – to go with him.

In the wake of you, though, Vincent had begun to see this difference in Bo specifically. Whenever he did drink, he had caught his twin sitting by himself in a similar way late into the night. He would be slumped into the couch and staring at a lit candle on the coffee table, not saying a word but obviously easing a particular thought with the same bottle. Sure, he could always find him, but Vincent knew a lot of unspoken things Bo didn’t find the need to say.

But you? You had to be filled in – at least to a certain extent. It was going to be a slow process regardless; you still only knew about as much as they had let on. Every once and awhile, you’d see a crack in the picture of Ambrose. The scars on everyone’s bodies, the way that every old family photos left out in the open were covered in layers of dust, and the way that Lester and Bo’s smiles never quite reached their eyes when they talked about “old times”, their stories never really finding their solid endings...

You hadn’t seen the highchairs yet. If Bo had his way, you never would.

“Don’t overdo it, you’re gonna be throwin’ up all night if you ain’t careful.” Bo tried to sound daunting, but he couldn’t help but let his head fall to one side, eyes gentle as you grimaced from the overwhelming burn and bitters of the whiskey. When you finally recovered, you croaked, “‘M alright...”

“Yeah, you are. Atta [boy/girl/do it].” The hint of teasing in his voice made you look up at him again, taking in the way his eyes didn’t quite focus on anything in specific. He was taking you in as a whole, eyes fighting a genuine crease at the corners, the smirk coming and going as he waited for you to say something else that he could guffaw about.

You had nothing, you found, so you instead scooted a little closer and asked him, “What, I got something on my face?” He huffed through his nostrils at that, but then mumbled, “No. Not allowed to stare just because I think you’re [pretty/good-lookin’]?”

Your eyes flickered to glance at his lips, and just as they came back up he had moved in silence to push them against yours. Even before you realized it, you were meeting him with shivering strains of your neck, his own craning a little awkwardly. Inhaling sharply through your nose as you started working against him with closed eyes, relaxing again as you found your place, and immediately wished you could be doing it all night.

His tongue starting slipping past your teeth, dragging against the roof of your jaw and wherever it could establish ground while his lips still nipped and closed around yours. You shivered as your back rubbed against the side of the couch. When your palm flew into the floor, trying to prop you up after sensing you had started to slip, he roped his own around the small of your waist. One hand pressed against your stomach while the other one found home on the side of your neck. He smirked against your mouth when he felt a thundering pulse.

“You like this?” He asked, a little unsteady with his intonation and breathing through a partially open mouth. His hair had fallen from its pushed back state and flicked at his forehead, bangs disheveled but not yet plastered by sweat. They swayed as he tilted his head again to look at you better, flashing the top row of his teeth when he saw something he liked. You couldn’t even answer, whimpering as he went back in to suck your bottom lip.

Your head had already been spinning from the alcohol; now it stood no chance as his fingers became restless against your skin. It was good luck for him to find the two places that made you squeal. The moment he had started to tickle his fingertips against your stomach and along your neck, you began giggling, heaving against his lips as they tried to bring your focus back. He broke from the kiss and teased, “You a little too drunk?”

“Too drunk f-for what?” Your face was flushed, and you pressed your hands against his chest as you looked into his eyes, genuinely confused for a moment. He gave you a careful look up and down and sighed, “Think you know what I meant.” You smirked, and shrugged with a roll of your neck, “I mean, I understand if…you don’t want to. We’re both kinda getting there, Bo.” He was flush against you now, and mumbled against the side of your head, “Oh, you know I want to...”

It was all you needed to hear, and when he saw you reach to start tugging at your belt, his hands slid from your body to do it for you. Albeit he was a bit rough, fingers encircling with a clumsy ferocity, you immediately let your own grip fall away, knowing it was best to leave him to something when he got this dead set on it.

When the latch was finally undone, he moved both of you up onto the couch, pulling you by your shirt in a way he liked to do sometimes. You were able to follow without much of a fumble, even though one of your legs had in fact fallen asleep, numbly buzzing as you readjusted. “See that?” He tutted, wiggling between your legs and yanking your pants down from your hips so they rested at your knees. With another sharp tug, he got them even lower, settling on your ankles. He assured you, “You’re alright, if you ask me.”

You gave a daunting glance from where you were leaning against the couch cushions, propped up by your elbows and feeling five different things causing the color to rush to your face.

His fingers found your sweet spots immediately, a little lost as they traced around the area between your legs for a few laps just to watch you struggle to hide the way it was making you begin to shake. He had a chuckle sit in his chest, holding you steady with a hand on your stomach. Restless, his thumb couldn’t help but start tracing the skin there too. “Not even touchin’ you yet. Stay still for me.” In the dim light, he was realigning his hips, and his hand that had been teasing you down below was now on himself.

You felt the cock against you before he warned, interrupting an inhale that he took as he started spitting into his hand with a whimper. His blue eyes shot to you again, and when you tried to move from the intrusion, his brow came down slightly. His hand encircled your hip to keep you in place, feigning on the rough side now with a grip that suffocated the skin underneath, and instead of trying to quiet you with words he only moaned over you as he rubbed his hand over his length and promptly let himself slide in.

“Easy. Easy, [girl/cowboy/baby]. You can take it.” He murmured, smiling with his encouragement as you writhed from him settling his base against your crotch, “You’ve done it before. Yeah?” He started to work, only giving a few teasing pulls and shoves for good measure. It was bliss for him, and he made sure you knew, groaning and huffing over any gasps that came from underneath him, like he was in a pissing match with you on who could be the loudest. For someone who hated anyone else even looking at you too long, he sure liked it when people knew what he did to you. If your head wasn’t already cloudy, you probably would’ve grown nervous to remember his brother was just a staircase away, and if he had heard Bo laughing that easily...

The noise was becoming too much, and your hand was soon skittering up to press over his mouth. Bo’s eyes glowered down at you, hands going tighter where they had been settled around your [pecs/breasts] and squeezing until the skin underneath flashed from the pressure. Still, he let you press your palm against his mouth, but upped the ante in other ways. Licking against the grain of your hands, moaning even louder in a desperation that you weren’t sure was real of not. Letting himself get sloppy, you felt yourself clench around his cock to see a few strands of slobber fall from your hand. When his eyes finally rolled ever so slightly, peeking the whites at you while he let out a particularly pained noise from his cock sheathing deeper inside of you, you finally released him.

One hand, his own, circled around your wrist and shoved it down to your side, holding like you had just tried to hurt him. “What was that for, huh? Ashamed of me lettin’ everyone know how good you fuckin’ feel?” He mumbled, chin tipping down from the absence of pressure, bangs falling over his forehead. They finally had enough sweat in them to begin licking at his eyebrows, pressing around his temples. He huffed through his nostrils, pursing his lips as he continued to carefully rock back and forth, looming over you with an expression flushed with color and glistened with sweat. As you let another pathetic noise out, feeling everything at once that stirred the electricity underneath your skin, his countenance was unable to stay tense as he melted further into your walls over and over again.

Your voice trembled, and in a fit of desperation you pushed against his stomach. “Bo, it’s too much. S-slow down, sl-” You tossed your head back and cried out again as he kept fucking into you, only picking up the bucking of his hips and readjusting to the sound your pleas. A hot rush came to your neck as he rubbed his palm gently along the side of it, and hushed you in a gentle voice, “It’s okay, you’re okay-“ His other hand pinned your shoulder, just hard enough to make you roll it back from the weight. Everything was so easy to move when your body felt like jelly, your eyes flickering to the whiskey glinting in the dark of the living room.

The sweet little coos and shushes coming from him only spurred the heat in your stomach, pricking and shivering over your body as you moaned loudly again in a demur. It elicited another hush that sounded like it was only tiding you over rather than coming from a place of genuine comfort. Shh sh-sh-sh.

He slid even deeper, and your hands flew over your eyes as a final pained moan tore from your throat. “That’s a good [girl/boy/baby], you’re bein’ so good for me now.” Bo praised, his voice quiet again. The hand that had been caressing your neck was down to your abdomen, feeling your entire body shake at his touch. He pressed his warm palm against your wriggling hips, snapping to look up again as you mewled to the touch. Just another sensation to send tidal waves through your body. He was jostling you up and down against the sofa cushions, and when he finally pulled you up by your back to sit you on his cock, it struck the final nerve.

Your mouth fell open as the cry startled both of you, rising up from the festering burn in your body alongside the alcohol, and you didn’t quite register that you had begun to spin out until then. The waves of intense sensations surging from your sex to the rest of your body was turning you into a mess within seconds, moisture smearing against the base of his cock as you started moving on your own, chasing that itch that was being scratched by his length and almost feral for more. Your muscles had locked up under his hands, cumming in long and desperate moans that were forced out through heaves of your chest. You were unable to stay still, even as his hands were back at your neck and shoulders, egging you on, dragging their calloused heat over them in an attempt to slow you down.

He watched with a dazed grin, the statement sitting on his tongue as he tutted at you. The orgasm came crashing down as you fell into his shoulder, still shaking and breathing with a sharp whine in your voice. He held the back of your neck, and you thought the softness he had showed was something true in that moment, his other arm coming around your side to support your back as he pressed small, feather light kisses into the side of your head.

“Oh, beautiful…” He then swooned, and his tone shifted back to a hungry groan, “You know I ain’t done.”

He hiccupped somewhere deep from his chest, and suddenly had you on your back again, nearly laying on top of you as he began slamming his hips forward at a new pace, meeting your overstimulated entrance over and over again and securing you with his hand around the front of your neck, squeezing brutally.

When you gagged, nails sinking into the side of the couch, he started nipping against your neck. “Take it, I didn’t settle down just to fuck a quittin’ little whore.” He whispered, huffing hot breath into your ear. Your eyes snapped open, and your walls were seizing with sharp pain, but willing to take the burn with a satisfied hiss and affirmations that came in breathless gasps. “Okay, I will, Bo. Okay-”

“That’s right, show me what this perfect [pussy/hole] can do for me.” He demanded, and suddenly he was rolling in his movements as he paused in the sucking and licking against your throat, breathing with an open-mouthed exhale and bathing your skin in burning breaths and tense grunts.

You were tired, you were spinning from the booze, and you still burned. You started crooning desperately, feeling your chest and stroking your own skin for comfort. “Come on, Bo. Please, I n-need it.” You looked back up for a moment, and his pupils had grown at the begging. You started clenching your muscles down below, and he responded by baring his teeth and immediately stilling. His grunts almost carried a broken edge to them as he only wiggled his hips now, emptying into you with long growls, attempting to speak but unable to between noises. He hadn’t even finished before crashing on top of you in a heavy thud of skin touching skin, sticking together immediately from sweat and bodily fluids mingling with one another.

You were gone, barely registering the way your body was screaming, shaking at the knees as they rubbed and settled against his sides. You caught your breath slowly, but even as you came back to earth your vision was starting to spin. Whiskey snuck up on you like that sometimes, and it hadn’t helped you had been taken for quite the ride on top of that.

You then turned your attention to the weight against your stomach. “…Bo?” The long, deep sighs that were being huffed against your chest along with a hand that didn’t even try to jerk away when you accidentally touched the scar tissue shackled to his wrist told you that he wasn’t going to be going anywhere for awhile.

With you underneath, you realized that that made two of you.

The smile started, then grew. Soon, you were giggling under your breath as you reached for the blanket resting on top of the sofa. The buzz was coming to its end as you covered your exposed bodies for the time and snuggled against the clammy skin of Bo’s shoulder. He subconsciously pulled his arms around you, holding on as if he was worried you were going to try and get up from how you adjusted.

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere, Bo.” You assured, half awake yourself and still a little tipsy as you leaned in to press your lips to the crown of his head. The dizzy smile you got in return was genuine enough to finally ease you into sleep.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #notsfw #✏️#🕯️#this wasn't supposed to be this long tbh #i swear i will write someone other than bo when i come back from the holiday lol...#and as always i encourage criticism if i'm writing the reader too AFAB-coded when i tag it as GN ;-; ♡♡♡#because ngl this was originally gonna be for my eyes only so i have some lingering AFAB-coded stuff in here probably

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floral-poisons · 2 years

Note

Can I have a scenario of a fem MC studying with riddle but they feel frustrated and dumb for not getting the work?

hey anon!! of course you may!! this is something we all struggle with probably and i get it. it's super hard. but you got this and riddle believes in all of you!! 🌹

i've, again, changed this prompt to fit a gender neutral reader. i don't think riddle would react any differently to a non-fem! mc.

school wasn’t everyone’s specialty. some people worked better in a rigid environment (see riddle). school was definitely not your specialty nor was it for you.

you weren’t a big fan of studying or of learning in general. you preferred things to be more hands on.

the thing is, school was useful. and you were beginning to fall behind. in about every subject.

a lot of the tutors assigned to you gave up, leaving you frustrated.

the worst part was that you just couldn’t understand the material.

it wasn’t hard or easy. it was just confusing and you didn’t like it. you didn’t like how confusing it was and no matter how hard you sat and tried to understand it, you couldn’t.

so you did probably the worst possible thing: enlisted the help from the prefect of heartslabyul.

“(y/n), are you sure you want to do this?” trey asks. “you know how riddle is. you can back out now. there’s no shame. i could even tutor you.”

“no...it has to be riddle. he’s the only one that can probably whip me into shape.” you take a deep breath. part of you was worried though.

“alright.” trey opened the door. “riddle, (y/n)’s here to see you.”

“good good.” riddle turns around in his seat. it was kind of funny considering how short he was and how tall the chair was. “come sit down and let’s get started.”

you were surprised with how...laxed riddle was.

or maybe it was because his overblot had taught him it was okay to relax once in a while and let things slide.

you could see him getting a bit frustrated at times as he kept explaining to you the concepts. you kept zoning out. but he kept his temper and continued to get you to constantly participate until you had the whole concept down.

his method worked! it just involved stringing individual information before connecting the dots with them.

“(y/n), stop zoning out.” riddle taps his pen against the paper. “you’re almost done.”

“i’m sorry riddle. i’m just...tired. and frustrated. we’ve been at it for the last...uhhh...”

“three hours.” riddle checks his watch. “maybe it’s time for a break.”

“maybe i should give up on school.”

riddle scoffs. “if you were in heartslabyul i would’ve kicked you out by now.”

“hey! that’s not fair!” you whine.

“what’s not fair is you giving up after you’ve made clear progress.” riddle points to your notes. “look at what you’ve accomplished so far! and you want to give up now? my mother is...strict to put it lightly. but i agree with her on one thing: if you start something you have to finish it. either fail doing it or succeed. if you stop something after starting it, you’re going to end up with a sense of guilt for not finishing it. do you want to flunk out of classes? if you flunk out, the headmage will have no choice but to expel you and then you’ll be left without anywhere to go.”

you felt the blood leave your face. “you can’t be serious.”

“did you zone out when the headmage talked to you when you got here? no magic, no identification other than your name, a rowdy beast that’s combined with you to make one student? as far as i know, grim isn’t smart. and you two have to make it as one student if you’re going to survive. school may not be for everyone but you should at least finish what you started. as in your assignment and notes. not school.” riddle looked at the clock. “alright let us take a break.”

you sigh. “your speeches suck. you need to work on your people skills.”

“i know. but i get my work done. and you have too.”

“it’s so much easier for you. you’re literally a magical genius!”

“i’m a genius through effort.” riddle sighs. “don’t discount all the work i just did. and if ace can pass without using ashengrotto’s answer key then you can too.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader

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