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redhead1180 · 8 days

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Sunshine

Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader

Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.

Words - 3k

Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.

A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!

Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.

JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses

#outer banks #rafe cameron #obx #tw dark content #dark rafe #dark smut #dark!fic #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 month

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I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better.

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges.

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness.

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again.

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it.

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one.

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target.

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now." He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat.

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam.

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other.

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands.

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well.

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out."

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone.

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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ravenna-reid · 1 month

Text

A BLOODY PRICE

[ Part 2 to Crimson Red ]

TW: swearing, violence (bones breaking and shooting, nothing too intense though), brief mention of attempted assault

˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁

He had her cornered.

The dim street lights were making the tears that rolled down her cheeks glisten, but no one would hear her cries or come to her aid. Not in the alley ways of Gotham City.

As she continued to tell him; "No, I don't have any money, no please," it only seemed to make him angrier. He had her by the wrists now. Rage contorted his features. She closed her eyes.

"Listen here you bitc-" He was cut off by the sound of his own bones breaking. Both of his wrists snapping forward before his hands hung low. Mock horror spread across his face as the most agonising yell left him.

As he tumbled away from the girl and fell to his knees, something else grabbed at his attention. The pair suddenly looked in the direction the slow footsteps were coming from. Heels on the wet cement. And once you stepped out of the shadows and he saw the mask. The lipstick. The lace...he realised.

"No." Weeps escaped him as he feebly attempted to get away. "No, please."

You looked over at the terrified woman as she held her wrists and watched you in anticipation. "How ironic." You scoffed, "Now he's begging. 'No, no, please.'" You mocked with a wicked smile.

"Who are you?" She asked, voice quivering.

Your eyes settled onto her and remorse began to stir in your stomach. "A friend." You said, "Now, how far away is your home?"

"It's just across the street."

"I'll watch you. Go."

She didn't hesitate, quickly moving past you and heading towards an apartment building. When the door closed behind her you looked back down at the man.

"You know, I don't think that's going to be enough to teach you a lesson." That playful glint left your eyes and was soon replaced with a deadly intent.

He began to beg again, until the sound of a gunshot split the air in two. His body hit the ground with a loud thud. Shocked, you turned, moved to the side hoping the shadows would conceal you, but another gunshot echoed through out the city as the bullet found its home in your shoulder.

In that moment, something wrapped around you and brought you down to the ground with them.

The two gunshots simmered in the air before disappearing, and everything became eerily still as Gotham continued on like nothing had happened.

"Shit." The voice said. You turned to see the Red Hood on the ground with you, arms holding on as though you were precious cargo before he quickly let go.

"Red." You breathed. A faint smile spread across your face until the pain of the gunshot began to finally kick in. You winced, and Jason began cursing himself for not reaching you in time.

"Where did he hit you?" His voice was deeper and a little robotic with his helmet on.

"My shoulder." You managed, gripping onto the upper part of your arm as if it would help with the pain. "Who-?"

"A sniper. I couldn't figure out if he was gunning for you or that pig."

You both instinctivly looked over at the man sprawled across the ground.

"Come on, can you walk?" He began to guide you up from the ground, a tender hold on your elbow and lower back.

"Yeah, my house isn't far."

Lies. And it was as though he could tell you were lying.

"I bet mine is closer. Come on, I can stitch you up."

"No, really. It's fine-" Another wince cut you short, and if Jason wasn't wearing a helmet, you'd see the concern embedded onto his face.

"You helped me," He pointed out, a little eager. "Now let me make it even."

So the Red Hood managed to convince you to go back to his place. A dark apartment filled with take-away, old books, and large windows in the lounge room, only lit up by one warm lamp.

"When I find that asshole, he's no longer going to have a spine." You said through grit teeth as he laced the stitchings through your skin.

"I wonder who it was." He said, focused on your wound. "Probably Two-Face."

You shook your head. "Sneaky son of a bitch. He knew I wouldn't be able to sense a sniper."

Suddenly, your hand flew on top of his and tightly held onto it. Jason's body stilled as his eyes darted up to you. You were squinting, until you finally let out a breath and said, "Sorry, that one had a little kick to it."

You were trying your best, but the burning sensation was beginning to get to your head. Jason nodded before apologising, his eyes on yours and his enclosed hands. You moved your hand back into your lap. Jason paused for a second before continuing on and a strange sort of silence enveloped the room.

You couldn't stop the small smirk. His hand was unexpectedly warm. And soft, even if it had a few scars on it. A blush crept onto your face and you hoped the mask was hiding it.

"I thought someone like you would handle pain a little better." He teased, cutting the string and moving to grab a bandage.

You scoffed as you stared at the bloody bullet that sat on his table.

"Well, I didn't really have to deal with pain growing up."

Jason raised a brow at you as he continued wrapping your arm.

"My sister was a healer." It was the first time you looked away from Jason, a sad, distant memory gleaming in your eyes.

"A healer and a pain inflictor?"

"Mmhm."

Watching you and how your usual confident expression melted away made him drop the topic. But his mind continued to wonder. 'My sister was a healer.' Past tense. He bit the inside of his mouth as he wondered what happened. Wondered if that was why you did what you did.

He clipped the bandage and sat back to look at his work. "All done."

You looked down and scoffed. "I didn't think I'd have to make the arms of my suit bullet proof too."

Then you looked back up at him and sent his head reeling. No snarky remarks or sarcastic comments. Jason was silent. You gazed back at one another in a comfortable silence, and he found that he really wanted to take that mask off. See who was hiding underneath. But the thought left his mind and his stomach dropped as soon as your eyes widened.

This time...you could hear a heartbeat.

As quick as a whip you were out of the chair and had your hands gripping onto his suit. Much to his shock and surprise, you were shoving Jason back, and in that split second a plethora of bullets began to shoot through the windows.

The loud gunshots mixed with the smashing and clinking sound of glass breaking as the shards scattered across the floor. You and Jason were pressed against the wall at the end of the room, your face buried into his chest and his arms around your head. The shooting continued on for what seemed like forever before coming to a sudden halt.

The floor of his apartment was nothing but glass shards and wooden splinters from the window frames. His table, chairs, and the wall opposite of the windows were decorated with deep bullet holes. It seemed the sniper had returned with a gun that had a little more kick to it. And now, he was gone.

You finally looked up at Jason as he stared back at you. You still had him pinned against the wall, your body pressed against his as you both continued to breath heavily. But the shock of what just happened wouldn't allow either one of you to move. All you could do was stare at each other before he looked over your head at his apartment and the windows.

A slither of guilt crept into your bones. Now he would have to move. You looked over your shoulder at the mess before looking back at him.

"That fucker is dead." He said, voice deadly and low.

"Seems we both have a common enemy now." You said.

Stupid enough, you felt your face become hot as you took in the position you were both in, and little did you know that Jason was thinking the same thing too. Except you had much more of an effect on Jason. Faces inches apart as you held him against the wall, your hands gripping onto the fabrics of his suit. Surprisingly enough, he found he didn't mind the position he was in. At all.

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood imagine #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x reader #dca fandom #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #fluff #red hood angst #angst #jason todd angst

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skylarsblue · 3 months

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✦Incorrect COD Quotes Eleven✦

Recruit: That’s a weird fuckin’ tone man! Gaz: That’s just how he sounds, he has an asshole voice. Ghost, tell him he’s okay. Ghost: ….everything is great. Y/N: Dude- - König: Just shut up! König, losing it: I am going to kill the next person I see I swear to god- Y/N, popping up: Hello, hi! I’m so happy to see you! Soap & Gaz: AHAHAHA König: Heeey oh my god….oh my god what’s going oonnn-;;

- Y/N, on Soap’s back: :3 Soap: Mate, you’re heavy, you’re gonna break my back. Y/N: I bet your boyfriend did that last night. Soap: *COUGHCOUGH* Y/N: *malicious laughter*

- Y/N: Justice is what I want. That is what I want, that is where my priorities lie. Kate: And the men you killed for your team- Y/N, coddling the entire team with blankets and tea: Don’t bring the boys into this.

- Y/N, looking at the carnage in Las Alma’s: You mean to tell me this all happened cause you were messing with the “shadow man”? Soap, bleeding from the shoulder: He was very charismatic!

König: WHAAAT?! König: After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just. Like. THAT?! Y/N: Yes. :) König: …fine. Horangi: Fine?! You’re doing what they say? König: Eh, they’re very persuasive.

Soap: You wanna make…love? Simon: ….*nods* Soap, smooth brain: Do we have the ingredients for that? Simon, contemplating marriage:

Goth!Y/N: *in the dark with a singular candle and some crystals* Jooohhhnnn~ Soap, with a crucifix: BACK OFF YA SPOOKY BITCH-

Ghost: I- hm… Gaz: Be nice. Ghost: I’m finding it. Gaz: …it take you that long to find- Ghost: It does. It does.

Gaz: Alright, between the two. Captain o- Y/N: I’m suckin’ it. Gaz: wait Lemme get- Damn DAMN Soap: HOLD ON WAIT- Y/N: *the face of no regrets*

Ghost: Can you just be quiet? Y/N: What’s up your ass this morning? Soap, walking in: Mornin’! Y/N: Ah, nevermind. Ghost: Gaz: PFF-

Y/N: *loads gun* Now I gotta pull up. Everybody dying, me included. I ain’t going to jail! Soap: What happened to them? Gaz: KorTac was making fun of us and now they’re mad. Soap: Hurry, if we’re quick maybe we can get popcorn ready before it starts-

Ghost: This is humiliating. Price, icing his hand: I told you what would happen if you kept sneaking up on people. Ghost: It wasn’t intentional! Price: Tell that to my hand, Simon! Now go, you’re dismissed. Ghost, huffing: *walks away, a jingle sound ringing out from the bells that Price put on his belt*

Soap: What do you call a man who swims, but has no arms and no legs? Gaz: Hm… Y/N: …Thomas the Sank Engine? Gaz: WHAT? Soap: *wheeze* The answer’s Bob but that’s brilliant!

#call of duty #call of duty incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz call of duty #kate laswell #horangi #konig #konig call of duty

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mrcaptainrex · 1 year

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You Had One Job.

Crosshair x F!Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Established Relationship, Dry/Rude Humor, Mentions of Blood

Summary: When Crosshair risked his life to send his brothers and wife a message, he expected them to heed his warnings. He should have known that his family never does things the way they're supposed to.

A/N: You know when you can never find a fanfic with your specific idea in mind so you write it yourself? That's what this is. This is purely self indulgent, and I'm not apologizing. Happy reading!

"Keep moving, traitor!" The trooper shouted from behind her, and pushed his blaster to her back for good measure.

"Wasn't planning on stopping, asshole." She mumbled to herself. The corridor was dark. The only real source of illumination was the blood-red ray shields containing what must have been hundreds of clone troopers. How could they do this to the men that fought for them so valiantly, not even a year prior? It disgusted her that the Empire was willing to treat its own soldiers this way.

"Stop here." One of the troopers finally barked. She stopped and turned towards the ray shield, but the cell was different than the others. It looked almost like an office. In the center of the room, a man leaned on the desk with a pleased smirk on his face. As the ray shield lifted and she was shoved in the room, she analyzed his face. He had a chiseled jawline, cold blue eyes, and slicked back hair as dark as his aura.

"Ah, the legendary Mrs. (Y/N) (L/N). How wonderful to finally meet you." He smiled. His voice was just as eerily calm as the look in his eyes. She couldn't quite place his intentions.

"Dr. Hemlock, I presume?" She asked.

He let out a slight chuckle. "I am surprised you know that. Very few do."

"Wasn't easy to find out. I actually came here to kill you, but your troopers here took my weapons." The doctor circled her menacingly, as if he was analyzing her.

Hemlock released the handcuffs strangling her wrists and motioned for her to sit. "I'm sorry they ruined your plans. But you and I both know you don't need a weapon to kill me. You could do it right now if you wanted to." As she sat tentatively, he sat on the chair opposite her side of the desk. "And it's getting ever more tempting by the moment, I bet." He teased. She forced herself to appear relaxed, but something about this man felt off.

"I have more self-restraint than that, Doctor."

"Clearly you don't have as much as you think."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Gladly." Hemlock placed a recorder before her and pressed the button.

Plan 88. They're after Om-

Hemlock let the transmission play a few times, allowing her husbands plea to mock her. He took pleasure in the way she became visibly uncomfortable at the sound of her husbands voice.

"I understand. It must have been hard when he abandoned you." If looks could kill, Hemlock would have been slowly crushed under the weight of a tank.

"You don't know him." She hissed. He nodded his head regretfully.

"Correct. Which is what I'm hoping you can help me with." Hemlock stood behind her and bent down so he spoke directly into her ear. "How do I get him to talk?"

"Did you try saying 'please'?" She said sarcastically.

The doctor released a heavy sigh and stood tall again. "I like you, Mrs. (L/N). You're quite funny. But humor and a pretty face will not help you here."

Despite the threat behind his words, she couldn't help but snort. "You really think I'm pretty?" This time, the Doctor did not laugh. He turned to face her again and grabbed her chin, harshly forcing her to look at him.

"Not for long." He said calmly. As he drew his hand away, the woman saw an opportunity. As hard as she could, she bit the Doctor's finger and refused to let go. His yelp of pain alerted the troopers standing guard outside the room. It took both of them to pull her teeth from his finger.

As Hemlock cradled his bleeding hand, she spat his blood and skin from her mouth with a red-stained grin. "Go fuck yourself, Doctor." The last thing she remembered was a harsh force to the back of her head, and falling to the ground.

Growing up, Crosshair believed there were two kinds of soldiers: brave, or stupid. Then he met his wife and learned there was a third option: ballsy. He never considered himself one to shy away from a fight, but he'd never met a woman as daring as her. That was once a trait he admired. Hell, it may even be the one that made him fall in love with her. But now, as he watched his wife's unconscious body be thrown into his prison cell, covered in the blood of a fight she undoubtedly started, he wished dearly that she was a coward.

He forced himself to stay seated on the ground until the troopers left. The moment the ray-shield reactivated, he crawled to her awakening body and held her close.

"(Y/N)? Can you hear me?" He cradled her head in his lap like she was made of glass and delicately brushed her tangled hair from her face. "Wake up, you di'kuit!" He inspected the blood seeping from her mouth, and couldn't help the proud feeling was over him as he realized it wasn't hers.

"Crosshair?" She croaked weakly. She felt like she was dreaming. After a year of being away from him, she finally lay cradled in his arms.

Upon hearing her voice, He helped her sit up and began inspecting her body for injuries. "Are you hurt?" He asked. She had never heard him speak with such concern. Sure, he'd been worried for her before. That was only natural in their line of work. But this wasn't worry. This was genuine fear.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "I'm okay." Her words calmed him. However, as his adrenaline wore off, the realization set in

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" He whispered loudly.

Well at least now she could be sure it wasn't a dream. That was definitely her Cross.

Like a child, she swatted his hands away from her face and pouted. “I was trying to save you!”

He looked around the cell, and back at her. “Well, you've done a great job, mesh’la.” He leaned back from his squatting position and sat against the wall opposite her. They stared at each other in tense silence for a moment. "You turned yourself in?"

"Please, you think these new 'stormtroopers' could bring me in by themselves?" His face expressed that he was clearly not pleased with his lovers actions.

"Could you explain to me how 'plan 88' translates to 'turn yourself in to the empire'?" He deadpanned.

She snorts. "Oh please, a warning is just a dangerous challenge."

Her carelessness did little to relieve his frustration. "Dammit, (Y/N) you had one job!" He snapped. Feeling his anger begin to take over, he took a deep breath and pinched the top of his nose. "I told you to run."

"And I told you to stay, so I guess know we're even." She rebutted bitterly. She didn't mean to say it, but the way that he reprimanded her like a child enraged her.

Her spiteful response surprised him. He went silent in shame. He never meant for any of this to happen. He wanted so desperately to go back in time. To stand in front of her on that Kaminoan platform one more time and hold her close. To tell her that he would never leave her side again. But unlike his lover, time was not so forgiving. "I'm sorry." He whispered so quietly she barely heard him.

She regretted her words as soon as she saw him shrink like a wounded dog. With a sigh, she scooted across the room until she was sitting next to him. "I really missed you." She said quietly. He looked up at her beautiful warm eyes with his own and practically melted. She cautiously rested her head on his shoulders and relished in the familiar feeling. For the first time a very long time, he allowed a tear to fall from his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look down at her. Instead he opted to stare at the ceiling in hopes that gravity would keep his tears at bay. He didn't deserve this. Her forgiveness. He hurt her badly, and somehow she was able to act like nothing had happened. Why was she so good to him? Hesitantly, he leaned into her warmth and placed his hand over hers. When she didn't recoil, he felt a wave of emotions overcome him.

"I'm so sorry." He said quietly. "You deserve better."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled up at him. "You are better." She responded.

He was sure he had never been more in love with her.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

Instead of responding, she gently held his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. It wasn't like their kisses used to be - passionate and hungry. This time, his lips slowly and tenderly molded into hers with nothing but pure love. With every second that went on, his body and mind relaxed more and more. He could taste the dried blood from her mouth, but even that didn't bother him.

Suddenly, a familiar imperial alarm began sounding off, followed by emergency lights flashing. The desire in his eyes faded, and confusion took it's place. His wife, however, looked completely unfazed.

"What did you do?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Remember that digestible tracker Tech was always working on?"

"Please tell me you didn't swallow a tracker."

"He made it meiloorun flavored!" She smiled.

As if on cue, the ray shield to their cell disappeared. "They boys are right on schedule." She stood and offered him a hand to do the same. While he struggled to regain his balance, her grip on his hand remained. "Welcome back to Clone Force 99, my love."

He gawked in amazement at his wife. This woman had been tortured, abandoned, betrayed and humiliated by him. And yet here she stood, after breaking into a top secret imperial base, with her hand extended and a still-bloody smile on her face. (Where that blood came from, he still wasn't sure.) If he could marry her twice he would. "Fuck, I love you so much." He exhaled as he wrapped himself in her embrace and felt relief for the first time in a long time.

#crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #bad batch #bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #x reader #female reader #star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars clones #bad batch season 2

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callsign-mongoose · 7 months

Text

Old Fashioned Phone Numbers

Pairing: Jake Sersin x Reader (No Description or use of Y/N)

Warning: +18 MDNI, Mostly fluff, Lying? If you can call it that, Enuendos, Cowboy Jake, Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: ~1.8k

a/n: This is my first official posted fanfic! Yayyyy! I'm so excited! I hope to be posting more in the future. Feel free to message me on my profile about ideas or characters you'd love to see. I love to write and am trying my best to branch out.

Prompt:

"Your Pretty I'll give you that." "How Gracious."

This was based on a writing prompt I found, by @creativepromptsforwriting

Summary: Bradley got fed up with Jakes cockiness and made a bet, that he couldn't get your phone number. Your just Natashas friend, but in order to help out a friend's friend with the bet, you play hard to get.

Maybe it was your track record recently of crashing and burning with dates, or just because she had asked, but Natasha had managed to get you to come with her to the bar. It wasn’t your scene but she made it sound like something interesting was going to go down with her friend group so you decided to go anyway.

Standing by the doorway you scanned around until your eyes landed on Natasha standing by the piano. Walking over you placed a hand on her shoulder, “Hey, sorry I’m late, traffic.” “No worries, glad you decided to come.” She tossed a glance at the man who sat at the piano who gave her a immediate nod before nodding his head away from the group. His fingers started to tickle the keys and Nat took the opportunity to drag you to the other side of the bar, hiding near the hallway to the bathroom. “We need you for something, a mission, kinda. So Rooster, my friend at the piano over there, made a bet with one of the guys in our squadron.” You already didn’t like the sound of this. “Natasha, why do I have the gut feeling that you are going to set me up for failure?” “No no no, it’s not you that we are setting up for failure, it’s him. Basically, Bagman was telling Coyote about the girl he bagged a couple nights ago, his ego is getting the best of him and he is under the impression he can get any girls number.” She paused and peaked around the corner scanning the crowd for a long moment to assure herself that jake wasn’t there yet. “That’s where you come in, Rooster made a bet with him that he couldn’t pick up any girl, and Hangman became so confident that he even said rooster could pick the girl. Do you get where I’m going with this?” It dawned on you, you were bait for this cocky fly boy to fail on. “That’s why you were so intent on me joining you guys tonight? Nat I’m not sure…” “Come on, rooster said he’d give you the $50 bucks that Hangman bet on it. He just wants to see him be put in his place. Plus you said it yourself, you need flirting practice.” She wasn’t wrong about that. You had no experience flirting what so ever, your past experience included literally handing a guy a note and then leaving the building entirely. This would give you a controlled environment to experiment, crash and burn safely without being rejected, because this guy really was trying to get your number. “Fine. I’ll do it, only if you promise to tell him after the money is exchanged. I don’t want to look like a total asshole. I like this bar and if I keep coming back I don’t want everyone to think I’m rude.”

Natasha nodded eagerly before rummaging through her pocket, pulling out a tube of lipstick she pulled the lid off “Perfect, now sit still.” The ruby red lipstick sat on your lips as she stepped back. “Perfect. Alright come with me.” Grabbing your arm Natasha dragged you back towards the bar, positioning you on the far end waving over the bartender. “Who’s this Nat? What can I get you two?” “Hey Penny, just one of my friends from town, we will take two beers please, just add them to my tab.” Two cold bottles clacking on the wooden surface you bring one of them to your lips. “Thanks Nat… Let’s get this party started.”

Nat made eye contact with Bradley across the bar and gave him a nod which seemed to put the plan in motion. Walking over to Jake who was half bent over the pool table, “Bagman” “Yo” He stood up handing his stick to Javy as he walked towards Bradley. “You prepared for the bet?” “You know it, who’s the mark?” Bradleys eyes scanned the bar until his eyes landed on you and Natasha, “Her, the one next to Natasha”. Jake seemingly nodded and without another word started to cross the floor, his demeanor changed, no more cocky aviator on the prowl, he put on a sweet smile and cleared his throat. Jake had a tendency to rely on his Texan roots when it came to women. After all… who didn’t love a good old American cowboy. Nat glanced at Bradley and patted your shoulder “Kaki uniform, he’s coming this way. I’ll be over with Bradley, don’t give in, and break a leg.”

You directed your eyes down to the condensation now starting to gather on the outside of the beer bottle, wiping it idly with your thumb. The tall figure slid up next to you and leaned against the bar signaling another beer from penny, “Well howdy t-“ “No.” Adamantly you jumped on the opportunity to turn him down rather fast, didn’t even let him get the first sentence out. He was handsome, it wasn’t exactly a secret either. Strong jawline, confident smile, broad shoulders, and his damn uniform hugged his biceps making them look like tree trunks even if he was just flexing. Jake took a half second to regroup tilting his head to the side looking to you with a smirk. “What’s the matter, sugar? All your exes come from Texas?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “How long has that one been waiting to come out.” Jake grinned seeing a final opening that he could grab a hold of. “It’s been at the top of my list, much like you are tonight.. I promise, I’m real old fashioned, love to take my time with things.” He was quick on his feet, something you could appreciate. After a moment you rolled your eyes, “You should probably find a better list then. For the record, in my experience, Texas is just full of Cows and Shit.”

A game. Hangman loved a good game, his goal now was just to figure out what game you were playing. “Come on now Darlin’. Your gonna hurt my feelings.” His lips curled into a smirk on either side, his eyes dancing around your face. Perhaps it was the game of chase, or maybe just your responses, but he was finding himself wanting more than just your number. “Aww poor cowboy, how are you ever gonna recover from this.” You reached up and tussled his hair which he swatted your hand away from “Hey hey the hair is off limits… unless you wanna come back to my place and I can make sure you pull it all night screaming.” He gave you a playful wink, half trying to read your reaction to see if there was any interest.

“Mmmm well go put your cowboy hat on someone else, your buckle ain’t that shiny.” He was drooling practically, leaning more against the bar now than his own feet. He didn’t trust them to hold him up. Penny walked over placing down the beer infront of Jake, “Is this guy bothering you sweetheart?” She asked looking at you before reaching for the bell rope, it was a tease but Jake took the hint putting his hands up in defeat. He much rather give Rooster 50 bucks than buy rounds for everyone in the bar. “I’m goin’ Penny, im goin’.” Taking one more half playful half longing glance at you he smiled and that’s when you spoke up,

“You are pretty, I’ll give you that.”

Honestly, you were hoping to draw his interest enough to talk to you another time. He gave you a tip of his imaginary hat.

“How gracious.”

Bradley handed the $50 to you about 20 minuets later. “The look on his face was priceless, I swear he looked like a lost puppy.” He was laughing with a couple of the others, Jake had since been over in the corner with Coyote, playing darts and licking his wounds. You pressed your lips together in a thin line, “I think I’m gonna close out my tab and head home Nat, it was fun, thanks for inviting me.” “No problem, thanks for the assistance.”

As you made your way towards the door you made eye contact with a pair of dull green eyes, not as vibrant as when they had met with yours just 30 minuets earlier. Giving him a small smile you nodded towards the door, a last ditch effort to see if you could right the wrongs Rooster had made. Walking out into the parking lot, you found a seat on the front steps. After about 5 minuets you wondered if he even wanted to talk to you again, pushing yourself up, you pulled out your keys. “I was wonder’ if you meant me or some other guy in there.” Jake made his way down the stairs of the bar for a moment lingering on the last step. “Do you make it a habit of contuinally turning people down then trying to lure them outside?” he asked watching your facial expressions, attempting to read you like a book. Producing the $50 from your pocket you held it out to him. “This is yours.” “What?” “Rooster told me about the bet. Said if he won I could have the $50 bucks.”

Jakes face fell, caught in the act, played by his own game. “Oh… um, you can keep it. I don’t deserve it anyway, I still lost.” Well here goes nothing, you took a quick breath “No take it, you can buy me dinner with it on Friday.” Your breathing stilled for a long moment, hopefully he got your drift. Maybe you messed it up too much to recover from. Glancing you tried to gage how far your car was, wondering if you could make it there before he noticed. “I- dinner, Friday, this Friday.” He repeated slowly taking the $50. “That sounds like a good deal, how about the itialian restaurant down on 8th ave. They’ve got real good food and I heard their dessert is incredible… though I can think of another thing I’d arguably like more for dessert.” His wicked grin had reappeared on his face. “Slow down cowboy, it’s just dinner.” You sighed moving forward you placed a kiss to his cheek before turning to walk to your car.

“Wait!” Jake followed behind you grabbing your hand to turn you back towards him. “I don’t have your number. How am I supposed to contact you?” A grin appeared on your lips. “I told the others I wouldn’t give you my number… I guess you’ll just gonna have to get creative, you said you were old fashioned right? Start there.” You winked turning on the ball of your foot to walk towards your car. This time jake didn’t stop you, just stood there dumbfounded holding the 50 dollar bill in his hand. No way he would be spending that bill on dinner, that was gonna be saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you so much to everyone who read it all the way through! Feel free to comment and like and repost! I love writing but as much as I know I do it for myself, I am (to quote a friend) "a parking ticket and need validation."

Additionally thank @sarahsmi13s and @callsignthirsty for helping me with cowboy Jake!!

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #topgun dagger squad #dagger squad shanagins

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months

Text

It's all academic darlin' PART 2/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 31st January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

(Note for later parts/chapters - Ice uses sign to communicate at home, I’m typing it like sign is English despite the fact that I know it isn’t (while NZSL is my third language, I have no working knowledge on the grammar useage in ASL).)

PART TWO

The next morning he wakes up slowly. There’s music again, although quieter, and he can smell coffee. He’d gone to bed early last night, using the excuse of the long drive, because saying he was developing a pressing headache wasn’t something he wanted to mention. He showers and inspects his bruises in the mirror, presses gently on the cuts where the stitches were removed only two days ago. Nothing feels inflamed or more tender than what should be expected.

He grabs a black Henley from his bag and pulls it on, only feeling very mild discomfit as he moves now. It’s looser and darker colored than what he usually wears, however his usual form fitting things were dragging across the stitches, catching on them. So, he’d succumbed to Phoenix buying him some shirts that didn’t show blood every time he reached too far when playing pool or rubbed his stitches. Not that it’s a problem now that they’re gone, but the shirt reminds him that someone cared enough to help him feel comfortable. Walking toward the kitchen he finds Bradley standing at the stove, poking at the contents of a pan. Whatever it is smells good, and he hopes that there’s the intent to share.

“Mornin’,” he greets, his voice sounding rough.

“Hey, morning. Help yourself to coffee, or there’s tea and stuff. I’ve made some breakfast. Sorry it’s a bit, uh, mixed. I’m just trying to get through the perishables so no one has to deal with the repercussions next time we visit.”

Jake has a closer look at the pan and sees fried potatoes with some ham and egg thrown in along with some spinach and tomatoes, small sprinkling of cheese and it smells a perfect combination of crispy-salt-fat and his mouth is watering.

“Smells good. Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Seriously man, you turning up means I won’t have to gorge myself too much today to get through everything. I don’t want to have to come back to this place and find liquified vegetables in the fridge.”

“Learnt that lesson the hard way huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Bradley laughs and shakes his head ruefully.

Jake takes a breath, a shaky smile making its way onto his face in response to the wide smile and crinkling eyes. Bradley smiles so easily, like it’s natural to just be smiley and friendly and simply… good natured. Jake would bet money he doesn’t get called an asshole on the regular. Unlike him. Considering he’s Mav’s son though he might just be hiding his more asshole-ish tendencies much like Jake is ensuring he doesn’t stray from the societal norms of being the most polite and accommodating of guests.

Bradley is making him think though, maybe finding someone who is more mild mannered and edges on too polite would balance him out. It’s not what Jake usually finds attractive, but with the year at work he’s had maybe quiet, safe, and friendly… could make a nice change. Not that he’s in a hurry for any type of relationship, but he might table it for consideration for the future, because maybe coming back to the same place, the same person, has started to have some… appeal.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, better than I expected,” Jake replies, and he’s assuming the combination of drive and headache had made his brain unable to formulate its semi-regular nightmare fodder. That’s what disrupts his sleep these days, not the location.

“That’s good. Here,” Bradley says, passing him a plate piled high with food and moving towards the dining table with his own. “You won’t get this again sorry. I’m leaving early tomorrow, so I’ll probably be gone before you get up.”

“It’s fine. I lived plenty long enough looking after myself, I’m sure I’ll survive a couple of weeks on my own here. I didn’t expect any cooked meals when I decided to come stay. Are you driving back?”

“No. Well, partly I guess. I’ve got a plane at Fallon, so I’ll drive there and then fly back to San Diego. Perk of the job,” Bradley says, and he grins. Jake assumes it’s a reference to Mav’s connections, that he can store a plane at Fallon and use the runway and airspace for personal use. That’s one hell of a perk. The food tastes as good as it smells and Jake lets himself savor it, enjoys the novelty of food being cooked for him.

“Actually, I have a favor to ask. Nothing major, just… can I use you phone later? I need to make a couple of calls. First one needs to be to Mav.”

Jake agrees easily, it’s no issue for him. They do the washing up and Bradley continues to sing along to the music playing from a portable speaker. The man doesn’t seem to care that Jake is virtually a stranger, no embarrassment at all as he belts out the words to the song being played and tries to encourage Jake to sing along as well. Jake guesses he’s someone who is truly confident, which with a new Hawaiian shirt today, easy smile, clearly happy with whatever lot he has in his life… well, Jake guesses Bradley probably is.

He’d probably be just as happy right now with or without Jake there, singing along to himself. He clearly doesn’t feel like he needs to impress Jake, and for once Jake feels a little unsettled. Unsure about how he should act with no crowd to play up his own abilities, someone he doesn’t need to harmlessly flirt with, it leaves him without a guide book of basic social interaction and he feels unmoored. He excuses himself to go and grab his phone from his room and thumbs through to Mav’s contact and puts the call through.

“Hello. Pete Mitchell.”

“Hey Mav, It’s Hangman.”

“Hangman. Good to hear from you. Did you find the place alright?”

“Yeah. Although Bradley wasn’t expecting me. He wants to talk to you actually.”

“He wasn’t expecting you and he can’t call me himself,” Mav says flatly. “Let me guess. He lost another phone.”

Jake barks out a laugh, because hearing Mav’s disappointed tone and not have it aimed in any way toward him makes him feel like he’s in on a private joke. And maybe he can go with a teasing thing rather than a flirting thing if this is a thing. He walks back to find Bradley lounging on the sofa, looking at something on a tablet.

“Yeah, fell in the lake,” Jake provides and Bradley’s eyes shoot up to meet his, narrowing as he realizes that he must already be talking to Mav.

“Jesus. That kid. I swear he goes through a phone a year. Falling in the lake is probably one of the least exciting ways it’s happened. There’s been the top of a car, wing of a plane, compressor which was a stupid prank when he was an undergraduate… Can you put him on?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Hi Dad…”

Jake moves out onto the porch, trying to be polite and give Bradley some privacy, but the other man just follows, clearly not seeming to want or need privacy as he listens to his father talking. “Yeah, I know.” “Yes. Another one.” “Please stop keeping count.” “I’m good. How’s everyone at home?” “Okay. I’m glad to hear that. Tell him I fixed the smoker.” “Yeah.” “Ugh, I know.” “You’d think so wouldn’t you?” “What? Uh, good I guess?” “Got a whole bunch of stuff done.” “Yes Mav, all the important shit.” “Jesus Mav, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, you can grill me then.” “Well, it’s not like my fridge is going to be overflowing with food, I thought the least you could do was feed me dinner.” “I knew you’d want to see me…”

Jake listens to the one-sided conversation, can almost imagine Mav’s side. Not that he knows who else Mav might have at home, but the easy laughter and conversation makes part of him ache for what he doesn’t have with his own father. It’s a small passing ache now; he’d like to think he’s managed to work through the worst of it and accepted that the rest is something he can’t change; more importantly accepted it isn’t his responsibility to change. He listens again and the conversation has shifted to confirming times at the airstrip for take-off and he briefly wonders where the plane is stored in San Diego, because from the sounds of it Mav is picking Bradley up and Jake knows Mav has his own plane. Actually, maybe that’s the one Bradley flew here. Or they store their planes together.

“Yeah, love you too. See you tomorrow. Did you want to talk to Jake again?”

“Here…” Bradley says, and he passes Jake’s phone back to him before walking away back inside, leaving Jake with his privacy and he appreciates it.

“Uh, hey Mav…”

“Hey kid, I hope Bradley isn’t too much… you’re meant to be taking it easy and I know you didn’t break that drive up over two days like you were meant to.”

“I’m good.”

“You are good kid, and I want you to stay that way. It’s why we follow the orders of our doctors.”

Jake snorts because he’s pretty sure Mav ignored half of the orders he heard prior to his retirement.

“I’m here now, and I will do nothing but rest. Once Bradley leaves with his blisteringly bright shirts and music it’ll be the perfect place to rest and recover.”

“He’ll get rid of both if you ask –”

“Nah Mav, it’s kind of nice having someone not walkin’ around like I’m about to collapse any minute. He even cooked me breakfast this morning, he’s a good host.”

Mav makes a weird choking sound and there’s mumbling he can’t make out before he clears his throat.

“Well, I’m glad. I’m going to call you in a couple of days and check in with you, okay son?”

“Yeah Mav, that’s fine.”

Ending the call Jake slides his phone into his pocket, although he should really go and see if Bradley wants to use it to make the remainder of his necessary calls. He wonders what he’d have done if Jake hadn’t turned up. He should probably call home and check in with Javy and his siblings. He flicks off a couple of messages and lets them all know he’s okay. He stares out at the sparse scrubby forest, can see the shimmer of water off in the distance, looks at the lean-to stacked high with firewood and wonders what it would be like to have a place like this of his own. Somewhere he chose to be for longer than the length of a deployment, somewhere to return to. Not to one of his siblings. Not Javy. His and his alone.

The bang of the screen door startles him and he turns to see Bradley, changed into running shorts and a loose tank.

“I’m just going to go for a run before it gets too hot. Did you want to come with me?”

Jake pulls a face, because normally he’d love to, but the jarring nature of running would not be great for his head. Today needs to be a rest day.

“I’m meant to be taking it easy. Running probably isn’t the best idea.”

The look that that new information gets him makes him wish he’d kept his mouth shut, but he’s feeling okay right now, needs to allow his body to recover after the drive yesterday if he wants to get back to flying as soon as he can. Bradley just nods his head though, accepting it without asking further questions.

“Okay. I’ll show you the best place for swimming later, and the docking spot if you want to take a kayak or paddle board out.”

“Sounds good,” Jake replies, failing to mention that he definitely won’t be kayaking or paddle boarding, although normally he’d love to do either of those things. Swimming sounds good though. He’s been aching to exercise in some form and swimming is something that he can gently start with. Maybe work up to the others.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so. Make yourself at home.”

He watches Bradley head off to what may or may not be a regularly run track before heading inside. He’s not going to snoop around, but he figures he can definitely go through the kitchen and maybe figure out what he could make for lunch. There’s an odd assortment of things, but he thinks he could cobble together some type of sandwich, but there’s no bread. Okay. This gives him something to do. He likes his bread too much not to have some on hand for a quick snack so he quickly searches for a recipe. No yeast that he can find, but there is beer, so he sets to work.

PART THREE

#Hangster #Sereshaw #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #It's all academic darlin'

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nitewrighter · 8 months

Text

I mean like, I get it. I work in a library, and regardless of how much I really do believe in the purpose and ideals of libraries, and how important my work feels with regard to being a major part of a community, a lot of the day-to-day aspects of it have actually made me really cynical with regards to people. Like sometimes it's people's behavior within a library that makes me go, "Damn, bitch, you treat a shared public space like this?"

Other times I'll be on desk and get phone calls of harried moms saying, "um, I got a note saying that I was being charged for a missing copy of Captain Underpants, but I returned that book!" and I'll open her account on my computer and I'll see she has the maximum 50 items checked out, and I can hear her kids screaming in the background on the phone and instantly my brain goes, "Oh there's no way in fuck you turned that book in because there's no way you're actually keeping track of all these books with how demanding your kids sound. I bet I could name at least six books on this list and you won't even know you still have them checked out." But y'know I'm still polite and I still go through all the customer service motions and I put a 'Claims Returned' note on the book in her account and that's pretty much all you can do. I don't assume she's lying per se, I just assume she asked Hunter or Brayden or Jayden to turn the book in and they didn't but said they did because they're seven years old and barely have a concept of object permanence, let alone "These books belong to the library." People are messy and like, even though I have a lot of pride in the library as an institution, I have to keep reminding myself that people are messy, and you have to do what you can to maintain that institution because it wouldn't be an institution without these people. There are definitely assholes who you can tell are asshole to the max because "What's a librarian going to do about it" but basically to get through the day, even with all your passion for the job, not taking things personally, and also recognizing that what inconveniences often isn't inconveniencing you out of intent, is a survival instinct.

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

Text

This time we're gonna see this through

Prompt: Steve Harrington’s closet during a spring break party

“I feel like this is a conspiracy,” Steve says. Billy slides down the length of the door and rolls his eyes.

“You think?” he says flatly. Steve tries the handle anyway, just to be sure. It just rattles, a sound that no one will hear over the thumping music.

“It’s locked, genius,” Billy says, with his eyes closed. Like it hurts to look at Steve. Maybe it does.

Which is fucked up, because Steve’s not the one who left.

“Those assholes,” Steve hisses, yanking at the handle. It’s his fucking party, and he’s been locked in here like a child with the one person he’d hoped not to see ever again.

“Those assholes are our friends,” Billy points out, and Steve snorts. Robin is going to pay for this. She owes him big time. And yeah, maybe she had good intentions. It’s been nearly a year and Steve has been less than himself for most of it. It’s been fine. It was a break up. He needed time to get over it and he’d thrown a huge spring break party to prove that he was not still fucking moping.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Steve says, slapping his palm against the door. If he was a betting man, he’d probably guess that someone has also wedged a chair under the handle. They’re going nowhere.

So he chooses to stalk to the opposite wall and sit down. It means he has to look at Billy but anything is going to be better than feeling the heat of Billy’s skin and remembering when they used to lie together in Steve’s bed.

“How did you even end up here anyway?” Steve asks, because he thinks he’d remember asking Billy along to the party. Billy shrugs and tips his head back against the door.

“Heather,” he says briefly. Steve sighs. Right. He should have known that his best friend and Billy’s best friend probably kept in touch after. At least that was one relationship that hadn’t shattered.

“You knew it was my house,” Steve says, because this is the thought that has bothered him since he spotted Billy’s Camaro. He and Billy have very carefully kept to their own circles since that day in July. “Why did you even agree to come?”

“Heather wanted to,” Billy mumbles and he won’t meet Steve’s eyes. He’s fiddling with that scrap of leather around his wrist. It hadn’t looked so pathetic when he and Steve had been dating and the sad realization of how much time has passed hits Steve like a punch to the chest.

Steve wraps his arms around himself. He wishes he could hate Billy, after everything.

“Plus you did always throw good parties,” Billy says, with a flicker of something that looks like the old Billy. The one who arrived midway Junior year and immediately got into Steve’s face. Who wanted to be seen and wanted and…

Steve isn’t even sure who Billy is anymore.

“Damn straight,” Steve retorts. He just has to deal until Robin or someone comes to let them out. If Nancy finds out, she might take pity on Steve. And she only knows the bare bones of it: the break up, what happened after, and the horrible, awful truth of it.

“Heard from Hagan that you kind of fell out of the party scene,” Billy says carefully and Steve recognizes it for what it is. It’s the same kind of tone that Steve uses when he wants information out of Max. At least, back when he used to ask.

“Yeah, well…” Steve says vaguely, because what is he meant to say?

“Just lost interest in it,” he says finally, after the silence hangs around like the dust motes in the air. “Do you still work at Benny’s?” He knows full well that Billy does, and that chafes because Benny’s burgers are still the best food in town. He hasn’t dared set foot there, now that he no longer knows Billy’s schedule.

“Yeah,” Billy says, and stretches out his long legs across the floor. Steve discreetly shifts his left leg, trying to avoid Billy’s knee pressing into his own. “He offered to keep me on full time but I’m not here for long when I get that diploma.”

Steve’s heart sinks. Of course not. He never really expected Billy to stay in Hawkins but hearing it for certain is like a knife. What is it now? March, so there’s barely any time at all before Billy’s gone for good.

“Will you go back to California?” Steve asks, because he has to keep talking. He feels like he’s going to be sick, that this cupboard and the boy in it is smothering him. No amount of convincing himself that it’s a good thing will do. Because yes, it will be easier to breathe once Billy has gone, when he no longer has to keep checking over his shoulder.

But it means that they’re done and the small hope Steve has kept alive for the last year - that maybe, maybe they’ll get back together - has finally been snuffed out.

“Yeah,” Billy says quietly. He still won’t look at Steve, hands folded in his lap. It’s fine. Steve got pretty used to the idea that he was someone to be ashamed of, when Billy told him to his face last year.

“Good,” Steve says, and everything tastes bitter as he says it. “Good. I know you missed it.”

“You always knew I’d be leaving,” Billy says, and there’s a faint razor line in his voice. And oh, fuck him for getting angry. He has no fucking right to be angry about this. He dumped Steve and now he’s leaving.

“Yes, I did,” Steve spits. “It’s fine. Glad I’m not getting in your way. Jesus Christ, when are they going to let us out of here?” Because the music is still pounding and it feels very much like they’ve been forgotten. And he can’t even leave when they get out of here because it’s his fucking house.

“You weren’t in my way!” Billy retorts, voice rising and Steve finally snaps his head back to stare Billy right in the eyes for the first time since the door locked behind them. And he must be pretty fucking screwed up to miss this: the flush in Billy’s face as they fight, how gorgeous Billy looks with that wild look in his eyes. But back then their fights were always made up. Not this time. “You were never in my way! Jesus, Steve, I loved you. Okay? I fucking loved you and I always wanted to take you with me.”

Steve stares at him wordlessly, feeling as though all his strings had been cut. He’s not sure what’s worse - that Billy apparently changed his mind or that Billy used the past tense.

“Okay,�� he says slowly. “Great. Good for you. Thanks for telling me.” Billy’s lip curls in a sneer.

“Is that it?” he hisses. There’s a faint glimmer of hurt on his face that Steve doesn’t quite understand. “Jesus fucking…Fuck you, Steve Harrington!”

“You wish,” Steve bites out. Billy’s mouth twists and he slams at the door with a fist. Steve winces at the rattle. He wants out but not badly enough to explain to his parents why the door is broken.

“Guess I won’t ever see you again when we get out of here,” Billy mutters to his shoes. Steve feels bile crawl up his throat. So. That’s it then.

“No,” Steve says, trying to make it sound like he doesn’t give a shit. “No, I guess not.”

The door suddenly clicks and is yanked open, throwing Billy and Steve into sudden bright light. Steve blinks before he sees Robin and Heather’s curious faces in the doorway.

“So?” Robin asks expectantly, and Steve only feels crushing disappointment at the excitement on her face. Billy just stands up and pushes past them, without looking back once at Steve. Robin twists her head between Steve, still on the cupboard floor, and the rapidly vanishing Billy into the crowd.

“Billy!” Heather calls after him, her voice lost to the pounding music. “Wait! What happened?” She turns back to Steve, her and Robin wearing matching faces of confusion. “Didn’t he ask you?”

“Ask me what?” Steve asks, pulling himself up. His legs feel as though they’ve gone to sleep and he wonders how long they’ve been sitting in here.

“He didn’t ask you?” Robin demands furiously. “He was supposed to ask you!”

“Ask me what?!” Steve repeats, feeling a little like when he was in a ball pit as a kid. No matter how hard he tried, he always felt like the edge of the pit was too far away. It feels like that now, fighting constantly against a swirling mass, what he wants just a little bit out of his grasp.

Heather exhales, her face quietly disappointed. “Steve, what did you do?” she asks, quietly.

“Nothing!” Steve says defensively, instinctively. He used to fight with Billy a lot, about nothing, about stupid shit. Because it was part of who they were, because they enjoyed it. Because it ended in great sex. This was different. This is a fight where if Billy leaves now, he’s never coming back.

Steve looks up at two grave faces and feels like everyone else knows something he doesn’t.

“What was he supposed to ask me?” he says and Robin just shakes her head.

“Go ask him yourself,” she says shortly and disappears into the churning crowd. Steve watches her go, feeling frustrated.

“I don’t understand,” he says to Heather. He lost her too, when he and Billy broke up. People shouldn’t have to choose sides but somehow they always do.

“What’s new?” she mutters, dragging her fingers through her tousled dark hair. There’s glitter smeared across her collarbones, sparkling in the flashing lights above the lace edge of her corset.

“Heather!” Steve demands. He’s fucked up and he doesn’t even know how. “I don’t know what I did wrong! We were talking and then he said he was going to ask me to go with him…” Heather’s jaw drops.

“So he did ask?” she says, before her eyes turn cold and hard. “Fucking hell, Steve! Do you know how hard it was for me to get him to come here? He was sure that you hated him!”

But Steve doesn’t hear her.

Billy was supposed to ask Steve to go with him when he left for California? But he’d said it in the past tense…and so Steve had thought that Billy no longer wanted him to go. No longer wanted him. But that hadn’t been the case at all. Billy had come here and Robin had perhaps known that there was no way Steve would stop and listen unless he had to.

And it hadn’t worked anyway. Steve had heard Billy but he hadn’t listened. And now Billy was leaving, entirely certain that Steve didn’t love him.

Steve takes off at a run, pushing past the startled Heather. Billy’s had a good few minutes head start and he has to hope that the Camaro is blocked in. He skids down the corridor, shoves a few people on the stairs as he passes and accidentally treads on Patrick’s foot on his way out of the front door.

The front of the house is mainly empty, a few people hanging out on the porch under the twinkling lights. The driveway is packed, cars crammed in as close as they can get. The people who arrived first have no chance of leaving until the dozens of cars behind them have moved.

Steve leaps off the porch steps and weaves through the cars, looking for that familiar blue. He’s always loved that car. They’d had sex in that car. Kissed for the first time in that car. Lay out on the hood and watched the stars.

The Camaro is blocked in, by some piece of junk and a Toyota. Billy stands by the driver door, fiddling with a cigarette. Steve shouts his name and watches the shock on Billy’s face as he turns around.

“So you are stuck in,” Steve pants, because Family Video isn’t a hugely physical job. Jesus, maybe he should take up basketball again.

“Yeah,” Billy says shortly. He’s still twirling the cigarette between his fingers, like he can’t decide whether or not to light it. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon. Hell, I can walk if needed.”

“Don’t,” Steve begs and takes a hesitant step forward. Christ, only he would have the man he loves come back to him and supremely fuck it up. “Please. Heather and Robin made me think that maybe I misunderstood you.” Billy’s jaw tightens.

“Maybe you did,” he says, leaning against the car. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s been misunderstood here?”

Steve licks his lips, looking for saliva and courage “I thought you were telling me you changed your mind. About me going with you.”

“Maybe I have,” Billy mutters churlishly, but there’s a delicate flush climbing his neck. Steve shakes his head. He’s pretty certain that’s untrue. It means that, despite Billy’s cold dismissal of him last year, Billy has always loved him.

“No, you haven’t,” Steve counters. “Do you? Want me to go with you?” Billy exhales slowly, and when he looks up, he’s the boy that Steve knew. Not the cruel one from last year, nor the one from the cupboard.

“Yes,” he admits. “Steve, I always wanted you to go with me. Robin wants to come too, but they knew that you probably wouldn’t if it was with me. I thought for sure after last year you hated me…”

“No,” Steve bursts out. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t understand why, but I didn’t.” Billy gives a sharp bark of laughter.

“You should have,” he says bitterly. “I deserved it. That was the worst way I could have…”

“Why did you?” Steve asks, edging closer. He resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, because there’s a bite to the air that he hadn’t noticed before. He wonders how Billy is standing there without shivering, before he remembers the constant warmth of Billy’s skin.

“Had to,” Billy says distantly. “I still had a full year of school left, even though you were about to graduate. Another year to live at home…” he cuts himself off but not before Steve catches his meaning.

“Neil knew?” he breathes, because Neil wasn’t supposed to know. They probably hadn’t been careful enough, given that most of Billy’s class, and a lot of Steve’s knew that they were together. All it would have taken was for someone to mention it to a parent and then for that person to mention it to Neil.

Neil didn’t care to have a gay son under his roof.

“So it had to be public and I couldn’t tell you,” Billy says, and the regret on his face is heart wrenching. “I wanted to but…” Steve nods. Billy’s life was already hell. If Neil had ever found out that he was still talking to Steve, life wouldn’t have been worth it.

“But you’re getting out?” Steve asks, because that’s clearly the plan. Billy’s going to turn eighteen soon, mere weeks away from graduating and being free of Neil. Billy nods, but he makes no mention of his former offer.

“He was going to hurt you,” Billy says, turning his face up to Steve’s. His blue eyes are huge in the moonlight, surrounded by full, pale lashes. Steve always thought that Billy’s distance this past year was down to indifference, rather than what it was. Guilt, regret, an act of protection. “I’m sorry. I just had to be sure it was public and he’d hear about it.”

Steve should hate him. The humiliation had been bad enough, being pushed away like he was something underfoot but the devastation had been even worse. The person he’d adored had just…stopped loving him.

“You still love me,” Steve says, unable to stop the dopey grin spreading across his face. Billy’s flush deepens.

“Yeah, well, you still love me,” he retorts. He stashes the cigarette away in a pocket, like it was a safety net that he no longer needs. He offers a hand and Steve doesn’t hesitate to take it.

It’s like they haven’t spent a year apart with the way that they fit together. Billy feels the same, from the soft spot under his ear, to the curls under Steve’s fingers, to the hips that slot into his. It’s fucking freezing but they kiss and kiss, under Steve can no longer feel his fingers and his mouth is a raw red.

“Come with me,” Billy breathes hopefully, struggling for the keys to open the Camaro. They can’t drive anywhere just yet, but they can make use of the backseat. The good kind of fights are made up with orgasms. Steve can pull Billy into his lap, like they used to, curled around each other to fit. Back then it used to feel like they were one person, connected all the way from head to heels to heart. No one will notice them while they take the time to relearn how to be together.

“Always,” Steve promises and shuts the door behind them.

#harringrove #harringroveweek #steve harrington #billy hargrove #spring break #billy's birthday bonanza #idiots in love #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending #miscommunication #neil hargrove is an ass #but billy's going to be free with his boyfriend and their friends #ngl this might be my favourite prompt for this week #robin buckley #heather holloway #steve will absolutely forgive them

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keoni-chan · 3 months

Note

Hey there! I hope I do not sound like an asshole and if I do I apologize! I been getting back into Sims 2 and re-downloading defaults and I love your 4t2 defaults but haven't seen a polycount on any posts. Is there a reason why by chance? I don't want to bog my game down to be slow :(

Hi!

The probable answer is that I simply forgot to mention them :) It's been a hot minute since I've done defaults, the last set is from June 2022, so I can't be sure of my intent at the time. But since I'm rather prone to being a scatter brain, it's a safe bet.

If you're looking for 4t2 hair defaults, I highly recommend @platinumaspiration Ultimate Clay Hair Default Collection. It replaces all hairs, has extra added ages, and lists the polycounts. It's vastly superior to my replacements.

Hope that helps!

#keoni.replies

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ggsyoons · 9 months

Text

In This Fucked Up World

| c.seungchol ♡ y.jh ♡ x.mh |

Chapter 1 - Go Forward

・❥・word count: 2.6k

“In this fucked up world, I’m the only one who became a fool.” ♡ or: Seungcheol and Jeonghan slowly fall in love with you, but you still battle with past feelings. It doesn’t help that Minghao is in your life again.

- ☆ ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48645199/chapters/122707831#workskin

- ☆ wattpad

https://www.wattpad.com/1364494855-in-this-fucked-up-world-go-forward

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You met Choi Seungcheol first.

It was warm for a day in September and you regretted bringing an extra layer. Especially because you had to lug it around your arm all day.

Honestly, you were pretty sick and tired, so it made sense as to why you forgot it in your class.

Shit. You finally realized when you were out of school grounds and a breeze came your way.

Thankfully, you were barely out of the school, so running back wasn’t trouble at all.

Except, when you got there, it wasn’t there.

“Ah, Mr. Nam, did you see where my jacket went?” You asked your professor, out of breath.

”Your jacket? No, I can’t say. Sorry.”

You wanted to groan, but just bowed and ran out from the classroom.

The jacket had no sentimental value, nor was it expensive, it wasn’t even your favourite, so technically losing it wasn’t the end of the world, but you’d be damned if you let whatever asshole who stole it get away scot-free and with their ego inflated.

Luck graced you that day. Your jacket wasn’t stolen, it was taken with the purpose of giving it back to you.

”Hey, Y/N, right? You left your jacket in the class.”

You met the guy who had taken it in front of the entrance as he came from the other hallway.

Choi Seungcheol. Though, you didn’t know who he was at the time.

He gave it to you, you took it and smiled as you breathed a sigh of relief.

”Thank you.” You bowed your head.

Seungcheol just waved his hand, “I wanted to catch you before you left, but you had gone too early. I was going to give it back to Mr. Nam, but then I got lost,” He chuckled at himself. “Sorry I made you run around.”

”No, don’t worry, you had good intentions, so I’m thankful.”

“Was that jacket special to you?”

You raised your eyebrow, “Hm? Oh, no, not really. I just didn’t want the person who I thought stole it get away thinking they just pulled a fast one on me.”

Seungcheol chuckled again, or more made a sound of releasing air through his nose as he looked down.

”That’s funny. Well, it was nice meeting you properly.”

”Same here…” You realized you didn’t even know his name and just awkwardly trailed off.

Seungcheol smiled, “Choi Seungcheol.”

”Seungcheol,” You nodded. “Thank you again, see you tomorrow!”

The two of you parted ways.

But then you met him again, an hour later at your workplace.

When you saw him walk through the automatic doors as you were behind the counter, you flinched, so did he.

”Seungcheol?”

”Y/N?”

The two of you said it at the same time, then you realized you weren’t being professional and put on that classic customer service face.

”Is there anything you’re looking for today?”

Seungcheol didn’t reply, his smile only grew wider as you stood there, hands in front of you and confused.

”Actually… I’m here for my job.”

The embarrassment flushed your face and you turned red.

”Oh… so you’re the new employee, huh? Good to know…” You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

”Yep, Choi Seungcheol, starting now. I’m glad I’ll be working with you, Y/N.”

What is that supposed to mean? You thought, watching him leave.

He came back rather quick, wearing the uniform which was just a shirt with the shop’s name on it.

”How long have you been working here?” Seungcheol asked, leaning against the counter on the other side.

”Since I moved, which is about a month ago.”

“Wow, I bet you’re the star employee already, huh?”

”Uh, I guess? Not in the way you think, though. Our manager, Miyoung, we talk sometimes.”

”Like what?”

”Mostly clothes and music, we have similar tastes in those aspects.”

”What kind of music do you like?”

You had to think about that one, “I like… everything, really. Pop, rap, funk, rock, jazz, classical, old, new, in English, Korean - I don’t have a preference as long as it sounds good.”

Seungcheol nodded, “Personally, I like rap or hip hop. That’s why I wanted to work here, I heard they have some old CDs.”

“Did you find those old CDs?”

”Hell yeah, I did. They have stuff from, like Tupac, Notorious B.I.G - all those guys.”

“Rappers from the 90s in the States?”

”Yep, hip hop from the states really shaped me to who I am.”

Looking at Seungcheol now, it wasn’t that surprising. He had that classic look, very hip hop inspired with his slicked back mullet, baggy clothes, and chains.

”Something wrong? You’re staring pretty hard.” Seungcheol said, his elbows now on the counter and looking right at you.

You stepped back, “I was just thinking how your look is very hip hop inspired, it fits you well.” You said.

”I can’t say the same for you. I mean, I guess it doesn’t really count for you considering how you like virtually everybody.”

Before you could reply, Seungcheol stepped back, gesturing for you to do the same. Although it seemed strange, you complied.

He stared at you, up and down, then came right back.

”Even though I can’t tell what music you like based on your appearance, you look nice.”

That was unexpected, “Thank you.”

”What about me?”

”Hm?”

”You only said that my look is very hip hop inspired, what do you think about it?”

”Um… it’s good, I really like that maroon jacket you wore today, and your hair is really nice.”

“My hair?” Seungcheol ran his fingers through it. “What about it is nice?”

So many questions, You thought. Not that I mind all that much.

You pretended to think, perhaps to see his face as he was in suspense, all wide-eyed and waiting.

“I like long hair on guys, dark or light, I love it.”

”So, you love my hair?”

You sighed, “Sure, why not.”

Seungcheol smiled, then he saw the manager leave the staff room which got him straightened up immediately.

He scurried off, back to his station and stacking books - a task he should have realistically finished ten minutes ago.

I’m sure he’ll get away with it, though. Miyoung has a soft spot for any cute, new thing that works here. That’s probably why I got away with a lot at the start…

Second day of class, you feel relieved that Seungcheol is there, at least now you aren’t a complete loner.

He seems glad, too - or at least you hope he is - as he gives you a wave and smile when you pass by and starts up a conversation with you every chance he gets. You do the same, of course.

It was only a matter of time until the two of you exchanged contacts, and you decided bravely you’d be the one who asks him.

Truthfully, you were quite nervous.

What if he says no? Oh, I’d be so embarrassed. Is it too soon? What am I even thinking? I’m just asking for his contact! Not like I’m asking him out!

It was time to go home, for you at least, and you two were packing in silence as you panicked.

It wasn’t as though the world would end if you didn’t ask at this moment, but you felt as though you wouldn’t if it were any other time.

”Hey, Seungcheol?”

”Yeah?” Seungcheol lifted his head from his bag.

You pulled out your phone and pointed it at him, “Can I get your KaTalk?”

”Ah, that’s such a coincidence,” Seungcheol dug in his bag again and pulled out his phone. “I was going to ask you, too.”

You nearly died from relief, “Here, let me put in my ID. Do the same for me.”

”M’kay.”

After the IDs were exchanged, you looked at it proudly - your first contact here!

“Are you that happy?” Seungcheol asked. It wasn’t in a mocking manner, surprisingly, just genuine curiosity.

You flinched, “I mean, you’re the first contact I got here and I’m the one who asked.”

”Do you usually have a hard time asking for these things?”

”Yeah, which is why I have so few people.” You sighed.

Then, you caught a glimpse at Seungcheol’s contacts, your eyes went wide and nearly popped out.

Seungcheol noticed this and quickly turned off his phone, you whipped your head to the side, suddenly feeling terrible.

”Sorry!”

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind, really, it’s just a little embarrassing.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, “That’s a little embarrassing? How!”

Seungcheol scratched the back of his head, “I have a lot contacts, but not even a quarter of them actually matter. They’re just there.”

”If they don’t matter, then why add them?”

Seungcheol looked around, hands in his pockets, he seemed to be contemplating more than checking for people.

He gestured for you to come forward, you leaned in and he whispered into your ear.

”One night stands.”

When he was done, you just stared, honestly a bit impressed, but still appalled.

”Wow… you must have it a lot…”

For the first time, Seungcheol looked embarrassed. His face went red and he covered it with his hands, his fingers stacked with silver rings.

”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Seungcheol just held his hand to your face, peaking out through his fingers as though they were blinds.

”No, no,” He breathed in. “It’s not your fault, I’m just a little ashamed.”

”Ashamed of what?”

”I mean, it’s not impressive, really, having sex this much.”

”As long as you’re not in a relationship as you do it and the other person wants to, it’s no problem, really.”

”You think so?”

”Yeah, it’s the twenty-first century, having sex should be the least of our concerns.” You shrugged, Seungcheol seemed to look better, so you were satisfied.

”Mr. Choi, Ms. L/N! I believe class ended a while ago! Have your conversation somewhere else!” Mr. Nam brought you both back to reality.

He stood there, arms crossed and frowning as you and Seungcheol scurried away, bowing and murmuring apologies.

When you were out, Seungcheol smirked, “So, as you were saying?”

”Ah, right,” You said, starting to walk. “So, like, how do you even go about sleeping with so many people?”

”Well, mostly at clubs at bars, unsurprisingly. Sometimes at gatherings, mixers, and parties.”

”You must go out a lot.”

”It’s how I relieve stress.”

”Makes sense, I just hope you’re being safe.”

”I’ve been to enough shady functions to know when to turn back,” Seungcheol reassured. “Thanks for the concerns, though.”

Suddenly, he jogged up ahead to stand in front of you.

Leaning against a wall, he asked, “So, enough about me, yeah? What about you?”

”What do you want to know?” You supposed it was only fair, he was this open about his sex life, so you had to be as well.

”Are you a virgin?”

”Nope. And I already know you’re not.”

”When did you lose it and who did you lose it to? I’ll answer as well.”

”On three?”

”Sure.”

”Three… two… one.”

”Sixteen, to my first boyfriend.”

”Seventeen, to my girlfriend at the time.”

You two were both equally shocked by this revelation.

”You lost it before me?”

”I lost it before you?”

Your mouth was covered by your hand, he was just there, eyes wide.

”I didn’t expect that, at all.” You said quietly, slowly removing your hand from your mouth.

”Me, too. Wow,” Seungcheol was just blinking. “How come you’re not with him anymore? Your first boyfriend, I mean.”

That question made you freeze. You clenched your fists as you stood there in silence.

Seungcheol picked up on this right away, “Shit, I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.” He bowed rather formally, nearly ninety degrees.

You shook your head and clenched your bag straps, “It’s okay, I guess I haven’t completely let go of all feelings yet.”

”Do… you still love him?” Seungcheol asked, slow and quiet, a lengthy pause between each word as he looked up at you with caution.

It was endearing, really. You took a moment to put your back against the wall and sigh.

”No, I can’t say I do, despite what my reaction would tell you,” You said, looking up at the florescent lights. “The memories just make me sad, I guess. But I’ve moved on and so has he.”

The answer was perfect, both perfect and the truth. Though, you didn’t know if you could ever truly let go of this stinging pain in your heart.

”I guess it’s only fair I talk about my girlfriend, or who used to be my girlfriend, huh? Unless you don’t care.”

”No, I care.”

Seungcheol didn’t look to be in pain like you were, more like guilt, you supposed. That made you a little concerned.

He doesn’t look like the type to cheat. How can I know, though?

”It was just… a rough time. I don’t even think it was worth it.”

”What do you mean by that?”

Seungcheol wasn’t looking at you, “To give you the footnotes, friendships were ruined. That’s all you have to know.”

Surface level stuff, You thought. It only makes sense. We’ve only known each other for a day. Though, I am glad we got to have this heart-to-heart.

”Anyway,” Seungcheol checked his watch, it was black and silver, from a brand you didn’t know. “I’ll get going now. Class and all.”

“Yeah, see you.” You waved, he waved back.

Back turned to Seungcheol, you contemplated what to do now as you stuck your earbuds in.

Free time. Such a simple yet complex concept.

Should you go home? Or would that be a waste of this fine day? You didn’t really feel like doing much, though, nor did you have anyone to do anything with.

Convenience store then home it is.

That part of today being “fine” was quickly proven false the second you stepped out the doors.

The once blue-ish sky was now grey and pouring. Not a problem for you, though, you were always prepared. The day could be as bright as a lightbulb and you’d still pack an umbrella.

You opened it and began walking with the other students whose classes ended early.

Some had umbrellas like you, some had raincoats, some made do with their situation and used their hoodie, some just simply did not care and let mother nature take its course.

Your apartment and the convenience store were close to the school and to each other, which is why you chose it.

Sure, the other options were cheaper and some were technically “better”, but close by food and less walking? That was all you needed.

The convenience store was always bright and quiet, one of your favorite places.

You thought people truly underestimated the power of convenience stores. It sounded silly, but it was true.

Drinks? They had nearly everything from black coffee to sweet, fruit juices and carbonated drinks. Food? Instant ramen of countless varieties, packaged meets of all kinds, even cheese and rice. Dessert? Ice cream, mini cakes, bread with every filling one could imagine.

In short, you loved this place.

They even sold magazines and basic essentials such as sunscreen or hand sanitizer, even condoms.

What should I get today? You thought as you browsed the drinks, the options were so plentiful it was almost overwhelming.

You picked out a drink, fizzy orange soda in a can, a classic. As your hand reached to grab it, your phone began vibrating against your leg.

A call? You were immediately confounded. Who could possibly be calling me? I don’t think my family would need anything right now. Is it Seungcheol? But he’s in class.

The only way to know was to check.

Your hand retracted then went into your pocket, you pulled your phone out to find an unknown number.

Excitement was killed as an annoyed expression washed over your face.

It’s either spam or someone called the wrong number. Both of which are complete wastes of my time.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and went back to your food dilemma as you moved onto the next aisle.

Salty or sweet? Hm…

Then, there was a buzz against your thigh. Undoubtedly, it was that person again - “person”, assuming it wasn’t a bot.

Not really caring, you took your sweet time in picking out everything you wanted, a good ten minutes until you were satisfied.

It was finally after everything was picked that you decided to give the message a quick glance.

When you did, you dropped everything in your arms.

The cashier, a teenage girl looked at you with bewildered eyes as the items crashed to the ground with a loud bang.

You had to look even more bewildered, however, eyes like saucers and moth agape.

”There’s no way.”

You dropped, now in a squatting position as your hand covered your mouth.

”Hey, Y/N. Long time no see, it’s me, Minghao.”

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getosubaru · 2 years

Text

𝒷𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

fushiguro toji x gn!reader

best friends to lovers drabble series; based on these prompts

wc: 1.7k whatthefuck

tw/notes: small text only for description; papaguro AU; toji drives a motorcycle i know this is my heart; canon typical violence; guns/gunfight/shootout; background character death; reader can shoot & play pool; alcohol and cigarettes; both reader and toji drink & smoke; excessive curse words; very suggestive; it's fluffier than it sounds i promise; no mentions of reader’s body/skin/hair/etc.

prompt: “agreeing to kiss each other just to see what it’s like”

Way out of his league and way too good for the shitty divebars he drags you into.

Toji is well-aware of how much you don’t fit next to him. You don’t seem to think the same way.

Some bloated, overconfident biker in a leather vest that’s bursting at the seams whistles low as he sidles up to the bar next to you. “Shit,

Fushiguro, how’d you land somethin’ that sweet?”

Frankly, he’s got no idea but he’s not about to let this asshole know that.

Toji shrugs, sipping his beer with no intent to answer him.

You, apparently, aren’t about to let it go.

“He’s got a huge dick and a better bike than that chop-shop piece of shit you call a vehicle,” you drawl.

Dumbass doesn’t like that nor does he like Toji snickering into his glass.

“Fuck you just say–“

The idiot’s head hits the bartop with a sickening crack before he falls to the floor unconscious. You finish your drink and signal the amused bartender for another like you hadn’t just cracked a man’s skull.

Dumbass’ friends drag him outside with murmured apologies to you both.

It’s not the first time someone’s made the mistake of thinking you don’t belong and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

Toji might be a little in love with the way all the other men in the bar take a step back when you approach the pool table. Just a hint of the violence roiling under your skin and they all roll over like puppies.

Too good for trash like him, but he recognizes your wrath because it mirrors his own.

He knows better than to play you for money yet you sucker him in every time.

“1,000 a game?” you toss out, pulling a cue from the rack.

Toji shrugs like that isn’t all the money he’s got to his name. “Sure, babe.”

That earns him a smack on the back of his calf from the end of your cue stick.

You sink one first, taking stripes with a grin. He misses his next shot when you bend over to relace your boot.

For fuck’s sake.

“Come on, old man,” you say around a grin. “If you go easy on me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

The embarrassing part is he’s not intentionally going easy on you. He’s trying his goddamn best but you’re the one who keeps leaning over the pool table in those fucking jeans.

Toji loses spectacularly, not even managing to sink half of his set.

“Fuck you,” he grumbles, fishing out the last few bills in his wallet and tossing them at you.

You beam despite his foul attitude. “Rerack and I’ll get us more drinks. On you, of course.”

He could have mentioned before the game started that he was flat broke. He could have told you after he lost. You might have let him keep his change.

Probably not, honestly. You’re just as ruthless as he is. There’s surely been times he’s shaken you down for everything in your wallet.

No honor among thieves and all that.

The whiskey is well and the beer is flat, but it burns going down all the same.

You chuck a lighter at his head after you get your own smoke going. “Am I taking more of your money or not?”

“I ain’t got nothing left for you to take, sunshine,” replies Toji. “Unless you finally wanna start betting something more interesting?”

“How many times I gotta tell you you’re not getting your hands on my underwear?”

Toji grins at the indignant expression on your face; you’re no more a saint than he is. “C’mon, you can admit your undying love for me.”

“Just hold your breath waiting, baby,” you coo before turning your attention to the table.

You break but nothing sinks.

“How about this,” starts Toji, effortlessly shooting the 4 into a pocket. “You win and I’ll install that stupid ass aftermarket exhaust in your bike.” When you glare at him suspiciously, he raises his hands. “Free of charge, I swear.”

“And if you win?” you ask as you line up your shot.

Toji takes the opportunity to shuck off his oil-stained mechanic’s shirt, leaving him in just his white wifebeater.

The tip of your cue glances off the ball and you curse darkly.

“Focus on winning and you won’t have to find out.”

Between the booze and the cigarettes, Toji manages to keep himself focused on the game and not on your ass. Still, you’re good. Better than he is, though neither of you need to say it.

Eventually, all that’s left on the table is the cue ball and the 8.

“Still not gonna tell me, asshole?” you jeer as you circle the table, looking for your shot.

Toji’s not looking at you; he’s watching a pair of cocksure idiots argue over something–money or women, he can’t be sure, but the hair on the back of his neck is sticking up.

“C’mere,” he orders you.

His tone is serious, flat. He doesn’t take is eyes off the men two tables over.

Toji gets you back into your jacket before he slips his shirt and leather bomber on.

Others are taking notice of the pair. Higashi, the bartender and a friend of Toji’s, pats the sidearm holstered at his waist. Misako and Haniko, a couple you’re close with, finish their drinks and head towards the door.

Misako gives Toji a hard look as she follows her wife, glancing pointedly at you.

Before he can do as she demands and get you the fuck out of the bar, shots ring out.

Toji slams you to the ground and drops on top of you, tipping the pool table over in the process to provide some cover.

You’re in sync with him, pulling the gun from his waistband and passing it over. Your own weapon is out before he can take the safety off of his.

“One fuckin’ night is too much to ask,” he spits out, peering over the edge of the table to survey the scene.

Higashi puts a bullet in the gut of one of the morons firing, but it doesn’t seem to slow the man down.

You’ve always been an excellent shot. Pool, guns, even throwing knives. While Toji finishes off the job Higashi started, your bullet meets its mark

right in the head of the second man.

Silence falls over the bar. The jukebox that usually croons out soft oldies has taken a couple hits, rendering it useless.

“Pay your tabs and get the fuck out,” barks Higashi. “If you can’t pay, then get rid of those fuckers and help me clean up.”

The bartender waves you both off when you start making Toji help. “Got enough free labor already, Fushiguro.”

Suits him just fine.

You follow Toji out of the bar, unfazed by the gunfight except for the adrenaline still sparking in your eyes. He says nothing when you grab the spare helmet at climb onto his bike. The routine is familiar, comfortable, worn into his muscles over the years by repeated exposure.

Your place is just up the street. You wouldn’t be getting onto his bike if you weren’t following him home.

The kids are asleep when he checks on them. Inugami, his much maligned babysitter, simply chuckles at the state of you two. “Rough night?” she asks, still cheery despite the late hour.

“Something like that,” you say with a shrug.

Inugami pats one wrinkled hand on your cheek and points threateningly at Toji. “Both of you get some sleep.”

Toji’s cramped house doesn’t have a guest room. Finding a place within his budget that had three bedrooms was hard enough. After so many years of working together and being friends, neither of you bother with the “I’ll sleep on the couch” song and dance.

His bed is big enough for both of you and if you wanted to sleep on your own, you would’ve gone back to your place.

It’s so domestic getting ready for bed with you. The second toothbrush in his bathroom is yours, as is the army of products you keep in the cabinet. You take one of his threadbare t-shirts and slip it on before climbing into your side of the bed.

Toji refuses to think about how comfortable this is.

Your soft breathing next to him pulls him towards unconsciousness, gentle as the tide and just as capable of drowning him.

“What were you gonna do if I won?” you mumble in the dark.

“Make you take Megumi to the zoo with me for his birthday.”

Your eyes are still closed, but you smile. “Liar.”

“Fuck no. You think I want to take a pack of 10 year olds to the zoo on my own?” He’s no more awake than you are and most of his words are slurred into his pillow.

You flick Toji on the forehead. “I was gonna do that anyway, idiot.”

True. Megumi would’ve thrown an unholy fit if his favorite person wasn’t there for his birthday. Kid likes you more than he likes his own father, but Toji doesn’t blame him.

He thinks you’re probably asleep now, the lines of your face softening as your breathing deepens. It’s safe enough to say it.

“I was gonna make you kiss me. Just to see.”

You aren’t asleep. You’re awake and shuffling into his arms and pressing your lips lightly against his. It’s chaste and so much softer than he imagined. There’s a gentleness in the way you kiss the scar marring one half of his mouth.

You kiss him like he’s loved for more than what his cursed body can accomplish.

Like he’s not something harsh and violent, made of cutting edges and the blood of others. Like you see the father he tries to be and the son he once was.

Your fingers cradle his face with care.

Toji stops hiding behind the hollows in his heart carved from others’ hands. He stops the ever-present fear of losing his partner, his best friend–

The love of his life. The other parent of his kids.

Jesus, how has he been so fucking stupid?

He kisses you again, murmuring words you already know, and lets himself drown in the feeling of being loved by you.

tagging: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @73sorcerer @bunnaccino @abberant-butler @sarchopathic @satorhime @xo2dee @muertasanta @actuallys8n @tricewithaz @lahvel <3

~get added to the taglist~

#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro toji x you #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #i hate tagging for this damn fandom #jjk #lo.writes #lo.bffs

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princesscolumbia · 5 months

Text

Return to Recipient, Ch. 3 - Passing Notes

Now with ꊰꋬꋊꉔꌦ ꊰꄲꋊ꓄ꅐꄲꋪꀘ!

Summary:

After Ranma's latest secret comes out to one of her friends on accident, she's sure her social life is over.

Preview, as always, below the cut:

He's gonna make fun of me, he's gonna hate me, he'n Hiro're gonna tell the whole school and everyone's gonna laugh at me and Akane will hate me and Ukyo will try'n kill me fer takin' her chance to get in okay with her pops again an' Shampoo'll find out and renew the kiss of death and... She found herself desperately wishing she'd stayed in the classroom so she would have her schoolwork handy to work on to distract her mind from coming up with every possible worst case scenario.

She stomped her way out the doors, tears starting to prick her eyes as she made her way to the place she'd had lunch with the other two since they kinda latched onto her after she started at Furinken. She'd left the classroom with every intention to keep calm and just let what happened happen, but the more her mind mulled over what she was about to be facing, the more convinced she was going to lose the first of many relationships. She saw Hiroshi notice her approach and Daisuke turning to face her. She thought Dai might be saying something, but the blood rushing in her ears drowned out any sound. She came to a stomp with a frankly very petulant stomp, fully aware she was not behaving in a way that would be considered at all mature, and snarled, "All right, jerks, I'm here, so you can make fun of me in person." She glared at Hiroshi, "I bet Dai's been makin' you laugh at me behind my back for days now."

While Hiroshi had the look of someone who was lost in a jungle without a map and compass and discovered they'd stumbled into the den of a wounded tiger, Daisuke just sighed, stood, and put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, ready for anything...

Daisuke's voice sounded like she was wearing earplugs, so loud was her heart in her ears, "Ranma, relax, I didn't tell him anything."

...anything but that, apparently. "Huh?!" All at once the tension in her body seemed to drop into the earth.

Dai grimaced, but not at her, "Man, did you not have, like, any friends before you got here? What kinda asshole would I be if I didn't keep my mouth shut when I knew somethin' private you didn't want spread around?"

Ranma felt like the ground was shifting underneath her, "...but...I mean...friends do that all the time. That's how it's always been."

Daisuke glanced back at Hiroshi, both with somewhat pained expressions on their faces. Dai turned back to her, "No...Ranma, that's awful! Friends can talk shit to each other, but they have each other's backs."

Hiro nodded, "Why do you think we made friends with you? You may be a himbo, but you're ride or die."

Daisuke rolled his eyes as he dropped his hand from her shoulder, "What the genius over there is trying to say is we don't mess around when it comes to our friends. Not sure if you noticed, but we don't go blabbin' to Nabiki when you tell us somethin'. 'course, if you think we would anyway, well, I guess you wouldn't tell us anything that important anyway. Point it, I didn't even tell Hiro, no matter how much he's been pestering me asking for a reason you're avoiding us. He wouldn't even've known I knew if you didn't spill the beans just now."

Face now hot from embarrassment, she flumped down to a sitting position. While not precisely as close as she normally would be, Ranma had quite coincidentally dropped pretty close to her usual spot in their triad. "Oh," she uttered in a quiet, almost defeated voice. She looked up at Hiroshi through lashes heavy with tears, "Sorry."

~~~

Read the whole thing at AO3

#ranma 1/2 #fanfiction #ranma #fanfic #ranma saotome #coming out #lgbtq #lgbt #lgbtq positivity #lgbtq+#queer #friends #bros being bros #hiroshi #daisuke

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thebarefootking · 3 months

Note

I know I just sent you an ask about despe/hiromu, but if you're still taking requests can I get your thoughts on douki too? I too adore this little gremlin man, and I adore the way you write about wrestling.

I have been beating my head against the wall for DAYS, trying to figure out how to answer this ask. I got so stressed out over my own inequality to the task that I had an unsatisfactory dream about meeting Douki (in full ring gear) on public transportation, where we had a painfully awkward and brief social encounter. None of this is your fault, nonny. I appreciate being made to think. Douki is just fucking confusing, I have lots of feelings about him, he's my Favorite of Favorites, and I genuinely just don't know what to write or where to start. I'm going to give it a solid try, though. Please forgive my tardiness, and enjoy these three songs that inevitably give me Douki feels.

----------------------------------- Sometimes in life, there is no sensible avenue to your destination. Sometimes, the most reasonable route between point A and point B is a freefall. Although I am no longer practicing, I spent my entire childhood and youth in an environment that prioritised, over and above everything else, religious faith and the mystical experience thereof. I am also in possession of a brain with both bipolar and adhd. These facts combine to form a person deeply prone to perceiving meaning, intention, and importance in places where others do not -- and, sometimes, to acting impulsively on these perceptions. Is it any surprise that such a person would find resonance in a character like Douki? Douki, who attests that everything has meaning? Douki, who responded to rejection by hauling ass to a different continent, with no prospects, no money, and no ability to speak the local language. Douki, who returned to Japan with the intention of kicking Jun Kasai's ass -- by showing up to a deathmatch entirely unarmed, even his teeth covered by his mask. Douki, with the anger of a martyr and the patience of a thief. Until suddenly... that's not quite right at all. Douki, whose greatest wrestling strength is -- not his unique and experimental moveset, not his stylised presentation, not even his commitment, but -- his absolute gameness. His readiness to, at the drop of a hat (even, I have my suspicions from watching him closely, when he is working injured -- though I wish he had both the ability and willingness to not fucking do that; this Moose's heart can't take that shit), to 'yes-and' the hell out of whatever he is given.

Oh? You beefed it on your finisher? You're gonna do something batshit off the top rope to distract everyone? Sure, I'll catch you with my smaller, wobbling, clearly injured body which is currently incapable of performing even my most familiar moves with any amount of grace. We'll make it look cool as hell! Nobody will even notice that you botched the most important move of the match -- and if they do, now they can't say a fucking word about it without sounding like an asshole. Oh? My old training buddy from Mexico just returned from his second major injury in three years? He needs to look badass to prove he's recovered and like his old self for now so that people question it less when he gradually changes his style to something that will keep him in the business longer? Bet. We know each other in the ring like butter knows toast. We can both bring it. ... 'Barricade'? What's that? And so on. Every damn time. If you give him something to work with, he will spin it into gold. This has the unfortunate downside of making his matches a little hit-or-miss; if his chemistry with his opponent or partner is bad or if they give him little to work with, he frequently fails to deliver -- creativity and impulsivity are traits of his, but pure initiative in the ring is something he seems to struggle with, at times (though I note he's getting better, and some of this deficit is apparent only, and due to questionable booking). (Jesus, that sentence got away from me.) Of course Douki appeals to me. He has an unassailable faith. Perhaps it's Minoru Suzuki's 'faith in the future' he once ascribed to the man who would become El Desperado -- perhaps something more enigmatic. I have a hard time sussing out exactly what is going on in Douki's head at any given moment, and he often does things that surprise me, in a way that someone like Despe usually does not. (Example: 07/01/2023 in CMLL when Douki let his teammate Zandokan Jr. shake him around by the skull, and his response appeared to be utter delight. What even was that? I think Zando's the best thing since sliced bread, and even I'd probably be pretty damn unsettled if he grabbed me from behind by the cranium and started shaking. And afaik, that was their first time working together. Fucking weird vibes that whole match.) (I need more of that shit, actually.) Douki's a hard read for me in general, so I'm not confident in my assessment, on this one. But it feels like he has faith in the process. Probably not in the future, maybe not in himself, and certainly not in the system. He has faith in the process of life, in the journey, in the getting-there. And that's why there's no one better at throwing himself into a freefall when necessary than Douki. He knows how to build his wings on the way down, and he's done it a thousand times before. (Tbh, I think Hiromu learned more than just the physics of the Douki Bomb from him. I think he might have gleaned enough of the philosophy to greatly ease his path.)

#wrestlebloggin #wrestling asks #douki #hiromu takahashi #gently featuring #jun kasai #minoru suzuki #el desperado #thank you so much for the ask AND the compliment! multiples are very welcome #i was *really* hoping someone would ask about douki anyway #i just didn't realise what that would ENTAIL on my part xD

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jiraikwei · 4 months

Text

pet peeve

sorry this post just turns into insane ranting garble i start sounding like im 12 , theres nothing of substance to read

this is something insanely stupid and even hypocritical of me to get annoyed at , but i absolutely cannot stand it when people online pretend like they're more mentally ill than they are . i hate when people put some sort of mental illness wordsalad in their bios like ' jirai ' , ' landmine girl ' , ' menhera ' i hate when people obviously try to act like ame / kangel after playing NSO or some other fictional character when they were absolutely nothing like them before . they practically brag about being mentally ill and then only showcase the same 5 symptoms that are insanely fetishized and none of the 100 others that aren't as ' cute ' . it makes me lose my mind . it feels like such a disgusting mockery it makes me want to rip my skin open . i cant stand even imagining anyone could see these shitty obvious yandere larp posts and put op on the same level as someone whos actually struggling . just this unbridled rage festers inside of me you dont know what its like stop fucking quoting anime characters so you can achieve some aesthetic go fuck yourself

i hate it because i hate myself and i hate the things i do , witnessing someone grift on the KAWAII DESU symptoms while im on a private twitter account typing the most disgusting unforgivable things i can possibly conjure up about the people i love because of how angry i feel over something so idiotically , stupidly minuscule like an actual fucking child . i cant make a single friend in my life because im genuinely so terrified of people and their intentions with me that when i somehow make a friend i genuinely think that they're only playing some long con because they want to ruin my life . im so lonely but i legitimately cannot handle having friends because they can say ANYTHING and my mind will twist it to some insane act of pure hatred against me and then my hands are shaking and i cant focus on anything for the next few hours and i cant stop crying and cutting myself and im planning extensively how to tell them i cant be friends with them because i just cant take it anymore and oh nevermind suddenly im fine again . but at the same time if someones too nice all the time my fucking brain will start losing interest in them because apparently i NEED them to pull away from me and be a fucking asshole to me because im some sort of insane emotional masochist !!! i cant speak my mind with anyone even if they're obviously in the wrong and being mean to me when ive done nothing because i just know they're going to leave if i reciprocate with any sort of pushback so i just ghost them instead which makes the situation even more complicated or i have some sort of tantrum where i accuse them of the most schizotypal shit instead of actually discussing it like a normal person . its actually indescribable how embarassing it is to retain that " my parents didnt buy me candy so they hate me " mindset from when i was 8 years old all the way until 15 . and everything with me has to be some sort of extreme . i cant even like something normally i have to be obsessed with it to an emotionally deteriorating degree . i cant feel somewhat bad about something it had to feel like my world is ending and that ill never be happy again . why am i fucking feeling like this because of the sub count of a VTUBER . and then all of life is just a cycle of yearning for shit and feeling bad for myself " why cant i do this why cant i be better at this you can either be bad or a prodigy and im not a prodigy and i dont care if im 15 i need to be better than 28 year olds at this or else im a total fucking failure " and i fucking bet you if i would ever reach that prodigy status i would feel absolutely nothing about it and my brain would latch unto the next thing to feel bad about " ok well im not good at * that * i need to be good at * that * it doesnt matter if im good at * this * anyone can be good at * this * i need to be good as * that * as well " . it is legitimately either all or nothing with me and i cant stand either of those options . i hate feeling empty and i hate being obsessed with someone to the point of emotional spiraling 5 times a day but there can never be an inbetween option . im intensely angry about everything

and the most insanely retarded part about all of this , is that given the choice i wouldnt want to get better . this is all that i am . i am nothing without this disorder . if i dont have this disorder nobody will care about me or be gentle with me anymore . i will forever mentally be a child that only wants someone to take care of them and if i dont have this disorder there will be nothing to take care of . nobody will care . but heres the kicker ; nobody cares already . strangers are gentle with me because i have a sad look in my eyes but thats all there is . i just cant bring myself to actually talk about what i go through . all anyone sees is that im energetic and then suddenly sad within an single second interval or that i just stare ahead at shit like a zoo animal or that i cut myself sometimes . i cant even fully bring up and elaborate on extremely heavy topics that i go through on twitter or on this blog because it feels so wrong to imagine someone connecting something as dark as that with * me * . i want attention but i dont talk about shit . i dont want to talk about shit . i already utterly despise seeing the look people get in their faces when they somehow catch a glimpse at my sh scars or for gods sake fucking mentions it to me " dont do that to yourself " please dont worry about me and make me feel like a horrible burden when im trying my hardest to seem okay so i can be an enjoyable person to be around . having a person worried about someone as disgustingly rotted , parasitic and inhuman as me is the worst thing to inflect on someone , its like feeling bad for a dying cockroach . i mean just read the first part of this ramble to see how shitty of a person i am where i exaggerate my symptoms to make myself look like i suffer more than other people and put down anyone who dares to express their symptoms differently

its over for me

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