#I do love the way the opposing team uses the other place as a curse word | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyber-crystal · 2 years

Text

i’m all yours || bradley “rooster” bradshaw

summary: top gun pilots are the most competitive there is. throw in a little beach football + suntan oil, and you have yourself a recipe for peak entertainment. also chaos.

words: ~1.4k

warnings: shirtless rooster, also everyone being super competitive, this is mostly just crack and fluff LMAO. also this was really poorly written i’m so sorry i have no idea how to pace fics. but i tried

a/n: requests are open :) during my socal trip i went to the beach two days in a row. and it kickstarted the rest of my inspo for this fic

“I should be flying right now, you know. It feels weird not to be flying right now.”

“Y/N, we came here to relax. Not to worry about what’s up there,” Phoenix placed her hands on your shoulders. “Give yourself a break, you’ve earned it…I mean, look at this nice weather! You’re going to love it. Now we need to get our asses out there before Hangman beats us to the coin toss.”

“He’s such a ball hog,” you scoffed, and you two started running down the sand. “I’m putting you on my team!”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!”

Phoenix was right. With the rays of the warm San Diego sun streaming down on your shoulders, you felt so much better within seconds. Everyone else seemed to be in high spirits as well. Hangman and Fanboy were wrestling over who’d flip the coin to start the game…as predicted.

The group had split into two, with you and Maverick as team captains. You’d picked Phoenix, Fanboy, and Hangman, while Maverick took Rooster, Bob, and Payback. Coyote sat next to Penny in a foldout chair, sipping beers as he agreed to keep score.

Soon enough the game started, and you locked into your overcompetitive sport persona. Yours and Phoenix’s strategy was to play it like you did up in the air, making for minimal communication but maximum results. It was easy that way, falling into a routine you’d executed countless times before.

“Stop hogging the ball!” Bob yelled as he went chasing after Hangman. “We’re on the same goddamn team!”

The score was, surprisingly enough, pretty close after half an hour of play. This only made everyone grow even more competitive—and aggressive—as the game went on.

You were only seconds away from scoring the winning point when someone tackled you from behind, knocking you down into the sand. Standing up, you came face-to-face—well, more like face-to-chest—with none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

Feeling your mouth run dry at the sight, you forced yourself to avert your gaze. Heaven’s sake, he was perfect—in his bare-chested, sweaty glory and all.

Rooster grinned. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and it made you want to tackle him, but also made your breathing hitch. You mentally cursed at yourself for reacting the way you did. “So close, yet so far, sweetheart.”

You tilted your head at him. “Oh, you’re so dead.”

“Catch me if you can, then!”

He broke off into a sprint and you did as well, chasing close behind him as everyone watched. Maybe putting the two most competitive people at Top Gun on opposing teams wasn’t the best idea ever. It would only end up becoming a game of who could tear the other apart first and how fast that could happen.

Once you got close enough you reached forward and gave Rooster a shove. You missed your footing as you did so, though, so both of you went tripping into the sand once again.

You were about to get up but were knocked right back down with a large and heavy splash of salty seawater. Looking up, you saw that Rooster had a giant, smug grin on his face.

“Bradshaw, we’re no longer friends!” you yelled (or more like, you tried to yell but couldn’t stop laughing) as you wiped sand off your face. You gave him another light push, and that was enough to send him falling backwards and landing in the water as well.

“Do you have a death wish?” he challenged.

“Maybe I do!”

Rooster stood up and shook the water from his hair, sending water spraying all over—including right in your face. You stared at him, slack-jawed. Oh, he was so on.

The football game was completely lost on you both as you chased him further down the shoreline. Good god, he was pretty damn fast…both in the air and on land, it seemed that he’d be a hard man to beat.

Bob nudged Phoenix in the side—everyone had stopped playing at this point to watch you two, but you and Rooster were too busy dogfighting to notice. Obviously. “How much do you wanna bet that one of them will make a move this week? My money’s on Rooster for Tuesday…70.”

“Don’t challenge me to a bet you know I’ll always win,” Phoenix raised a brow at him. “Eighty-five. By the end of tonight. Either one of them.”

“Losers,” Hangman snorted and rolled his eyes. “I say 100. By the time they stop trying to kill each other.”

Within seconds, they’d formed a small cash pile by the beer cans. “Someone’s getting RICH tonight!” Coyote whooped as he placed his own bets into the pool. “This right here is three weeks’ worth of gas money for me. Might even be some left over for groceries…”

It was getting harder to throw attacks at each other and shove each other with the heavier your clothes got. You fell backwards and swallowed a rather generous mouthful of seawater along the way, which momentarily threw you off-course.

After relishing in his brief victory, Rooster offered you a hand to help you up, and at that moment you took him by the wrist and dragged him down into the water with you as revenge. You quickly straddled him, placing your thighs on either side of him to lock him in, but you’re too late. You’d hesitated long enough for him to slip out and flip you over onto your back.

But you have no energy to get up and fight back, so you’re completely pinned down by the weight of him. You can’t tell if your breathlessness is from your close proximity or because he’s pressing against your ribcage—it was most likely a bit of both. If either of you decided to move even an inch at this point, your lips would touch, and the thought alone is enough to send your heart racing.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, sand sinking into your skin and Rooster’s body flush against your own. And the cheeky little shit notices everything—reading you—it’s the thing he’s best at. The sweat and salty water in your hair and face, your reddening cheeks (he knows it’s not from the sun) and the way your chest was rising and falling with each nervous breath you took.

The tense moment finally breaks when Rooster stands. This time, when he offers you a hand, you take it without the intent of pulling him down.

“I won,” He’s breathless as he speaks. He’s still holding your hand but the feeling doesn’t register with you—you’re still busy trying to steady yourself. “You know that, right?”

“No, I don’t, because my team won.”

“And you say that because?”

“I say that because I was this close to scoring the final touchdown until you decided to act all high and mighty and swoop in and—”

Any protests building up in the back of your throat were instantly muffled by his lips on yours. You weren’t even that deep in the ocean anymore yet you felt like you were sinking beneath the weight of the tides. It was suffocating, but you cling to it anyway—to him. Your hands moved to pull him even closer as if the little distance between you right now was not enough…and it wasn’t. But really, would it ever be when it came to him?

“I hate you,” you exhaled as you broke apart for a breath. “I’m getting back at you for this.”

“Try me.”

And then he kissed you a second time, and once again you’re enveloped with the overwhelming sense of his presence. There’s salt on your lips and you’re both sweating and you’re soaked to the core with icy seawater, but it still feels perfect to you.

It was a loud voice that forced you to pull away. Unfortunately.

“I WIN!” Hangman snatched the wads of cash from the pile, beaming wide. “The victor of tonight, folks, is…me!”

“You’re willing to leave people hanging, but not money…” Phoenix sighed. “What a man.”

“You guys made a bet?” Rooster raised an eyebrow. You could tell he was trying not to laugh—both at your flushed complexion and the idea of betting on you two.

“We did!” Bob declared with pride.

“And I won,” Hangman added.

Rooster turns back to you and smirks. “How about we give them their money’s worth, hm? They’ll get what they came for.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And so, you lean back in.

tags: @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @cosm1cfae @altheadarling @ellabellabus07 @hay-9105 @vitanileon @93joons @katiemcrae @deadpoolgirl23 @thatchickwiththecamera @lunamoonbby @honey-dew-woo @cabin-w @walkonthewiidside @the-untamed-soul @n3ssm0nique @itscheybaby @11114444 @charlesl3cl3rc @winteryoungie @optimisticdiplomatshoelight @whoredalorian @em2213 @criminalyetminimal @yeehawnana @hazelgirl355 @lunamoonbby @yeehawnana @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @hufflepuffprincesse @sergantbarnesbitch @adorephina @kristensworldin @callsignrunaway @purelyfiction @skylynch03 @sweetdayme4427 @spawn0fsatan @11-river @kajjaka @azari-anna @planetpheromone @utterly-in-like @aphrodites-flowers @j-elese-53 @adorephina

(if you asked to be tagged and you’re not on here, that means i couldn’t tag you for some reason)

#top gun: maverick #top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #miles teller x reader #top gun fic #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic

795 notes · View notes

autumn-sweet-fae · 2 years

Note

Rereading through your Wanted AU makes me just want to wrap up Emmet in a soft blanket, give him like 10 shiny joltiks, and get this boy the therapy he (rightfully) deserves.

Just…Ingo finally being home is not going to fix the plethora of anguish this poor man has gone through. Boy went through hell with his bro's disappearance. Media bombardment, spiteful conspiracies, keeping up the subway on his own on top of taking care of nearly two full teams of pokemon by himself. And that's just what was happening on the outside! (Don't get me started on the mental aspect 'cause I could write a thing or two let me tell ya. I won't because this ask is long enough as it is and I don't want to butt-in a bunch of angst headcannons for an AU that's not rightfully mine.)

And even when he's finally home, Ingo has changed. He's not the same twin anymore. He's grown in ways Emmet hasn't and in some ways Emmet was kinda left behind(unintentionally but still) or just left to stay the same while getting frayed at all ends. Which is going to add just another layer of mental torment.

Ingo thought it was a curse when he forgotten everything about his home and his family and friends and left to struggle for memories, but Emmet kinda hates him for that comment because forgetting would have been a blessing for him. (He'll never say that out loud because he knows what Ingo went through was just as bad but my dude deserves to lash out in this AU once!)

Just…may I punch Arceus for this man? I'm gonna punch Arceus for this man for letting Volo play god and just letting it play out before sending a child to fix what it should have in the first place.

You! You get it! I love all of this! 💖🌈✨

Oh I promise you this boy has had some thearapy before, Elesa would have dragged him to his first appointment if he hadn’t gone willingly. That said, he’s now got connections to get himself and the others all the therapy they are going to need after all this mess.

So I will say, after all the miscommunication and trouble Ingo’s amnesia has caused thoughout this story and also what he later sees Ingo struggle with, Emmet would fully agree that it is a curse. And as painful as those three years are for him, he’d never want to forget his brother or his pokemon. I see Emmet as someone who likes order and to loose oneself in that way is very chaotic.

Also! While I totally understand the anger and the urge to blame Arceus, I’m pretty neutral on them. I’m also of the opinion that humanity/pokemon kind Does Not want Arceus stepping in themself. They are too powerful for dealing with something so arguably small in the grand scheme of things without royally fucking something up. Them handling it themselves would be like using a sledge hammer to chisel the finer details of an ice sculpture.

The reason I believe this is due to the number of lesser gods that Arceus created so to create the world and it’s inhabitants for them. They themselves can directly make powerful beings like Palkia, Dialga, and Giratina, or the three lake spirits. But a Bidoof?? No way.

This is why they chose humans to handle a matter that takes place on a human scale. They trust the power of the bonds between humans and their Pokémon to be what saves the day. And also humans learn better by watching another human befriend a Pokémon, as opposed to some great giant godly Pokémon telling the people of Hisui to go make friends with that aggressive Shinx.

In my fic Arceus is the one to send Ingo back to Hisui, as evident by his xtransceiver becoming his arc-transceiver. Arceus didn’t want to be the one to do it, but Dialga is the one that was frenzied in my fic so they have to be the one to do it.

You know that scene at the very start of the game when you see Arceus all golden and shining? That was the true face of god. Something no living being should ever look at if they wanna keep their memories. At least Ingo still remembers his name.

So basically, the god of the Pokémon world is a GOD, and you never want their direct attention. That’s why they give Ingo and Akari tools like they’re devices to help guide them instead of ever speaking to them directly. Gotta keep the divine exposure to an absolute minimum.

(This is generally how I always write gods. They are all just too big to fit in the doll house themselves, so they gotta send in Paladin Barbie to achieve their divine quest for them)

#submas wanted au #emmet #Ingo #Arceus #submas #pokemon

109 notes · View notes

mizgnomer · 5 years

Photo

Good Omens - Heaven and Hell ...for somebody’s sake

I do love the way each side uses the opposing team’s place as a curse word (and their own when saying “for <whomever’s> sake”) - and Crowley essentially becomes confused about what side he’s on toward the end (because he’s on his own side with Aziraphale)

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #tennant tuesday #crowley and aziraphale #so technically Crowley says Heaven's sake twice #once as himself and one as he's body-swapped into Aziraphale #this show is so clever #stuff i posted #I do love the way the opposing team uses the other place as a curse word #and Crowley kind-of crosses over by the end of the series #I didn't include the Heaven's sake that Gabriel parrots back to Crowley-as-Aziraphale #too much of a jerk for my gifset

11K notes · View notes

thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well.

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little.

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises.

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.”

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time.

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra.

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs.

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement.

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers.

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.”

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one.

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?”

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-”

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips.

“Yeah, I figured.”

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagine #dream fanfic #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfic #dream smut #dreamwastaken smut

4K notes · View notes

marvel-fanfic-writer-8675 · 2 years

Text

Cooking Lessons

Pairing: Stucky x chef!reader

Warnings: fluff, cursing, Bucky and Steve being cute and being dumbasses

Summary: you give Steve and Bucky some cooking lessons

You worked as a chef at the really popular and expensive restaurant downtown that Tony loved. That was how you met Steve and Bucky actually. Tony had taken the team there to celebrate taking down a giant Hydra base with no casualties on their end. Steve had accidentally confused you for a hostess when you took you chef hat off, you politely told him you were actually the head chef, Bucky slapped him in the back of the head while Steve apologized profusely. You laughed it off and said it was perfectly fine. Your shift had ended and you were walking back to your car when you got mugged. Steve and Bucky came to your rescue. After that you got to know the both of them, and fell for, the both of them.

One day, while you were visiting the tower watching a movie with both of them, they asked you out, “Doll, so, we’ve got an odd question for ya.” You paused the movie and looked over at them both, “go ahead, it can’t be too bad, it’s not like it will ruin me wanting to spend time with you guys.” Bucky fiddled with his fingers, “Well, doll, both Steve and I really like you, and we like each other, a lot, so we wanted to know if you would go out on a date with us?” You looked over at Steve who was holding in a nervous breath. You smiled, “I’d love to,” the guys let out sighs of relief. “Oh thank god, that would’ve been awkward if you said no.” Steve chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of saying no to a date with my two favorite guys,” you reassured.

It had been a few months of dating the guys. You had all said the L word to each other. One time, Bucky and Steve tried to cook you dinner when you came home really tired from a stressful day. You of course appreciated the effort and the thought, but they kept arguing about ingredients, measurements, oven temperature etc. Bucky was cutting the onions with a clever, while wearing a scuba mask. The meal turned out burnt in some places, raw in others, you weren’t sure how they did it. “I’m sorry doll, we tried but all we ended up with was a sink full of dishes,” Steve sadly looked at you. “We’ll make sure to do them doll, don’t worry,” Bucky added in defeat. “It’s alright my loves, you tried, cooking is all about trying and failing. How about we order in and deal with the dishes together, tomorrow?” The guys agreed and thanked you for being so understanding, you ordered Chinese food and ate it while cuddled up on the couch watching a new movie that came out on Netflix. It was that day you decided on the perfect date night slash anniversary gift for the guys…..Cooking Lessons with their favorite chef! You!

“G’Morning doll, mornin’ Stevie, happy anniversary,” Bucky groggily mumbled. “Happy anniversary my loves,” you cheerily said, kissing each of your partners. “Mmm, morning you two, happy anniversary,” Steve exclaimed. “What’s the plan for the day?” Steve pulled up a schedule of ideas on his phone to answer Bucky’s question. “Well, I figure we each choose something to do, and then we finish it with dinner at that new restaurant we got reservations for thanks to Tony,” Steve explained. “I say for my activity, we all cuddle in bed and sleep in for another hour or two,” Bucky declared, his head falling back onto the pillow. “Alright then,” you laughed, moving yourself to spoon Bucky. “Loving my activity so far,” Bucky mumbled, falling back asleep. Steve complied and hugged your waist, clinging himself to you like a koala, nuzzling his face into your neck.

You guys stayed like that till around 9am, by then, Steve was itching to go on his morning run. “Would you two come with me today, pleasssseeee.” Steve loved when you both came with him on his runs, but you and Bucky were opposed, you hated it because they were both way faster and had way more endurance, and Bucky just hated running. “Fine, but we have to be back by 11:00,” you relented. “What’s happening at 11 doll?” You turned to Bucky, smirking, “a surprise, and my activity for the day.” Bucky agreed to go with Steve only “because someone needs to be there to pick Y/N up when she faints trying to keep up.” You fake laughed at his teasing, then started tickling him. Steve stood back and watched as his lovers laughed. “Alright, I surrender! Let’s go get ready,” Bucky laughed. You stopped and the three of you headed to get dressed.

The run was absolute torture. God Steve was lucky you loved him, if anything this was more of a show of your love than a wedding. You were sweating everywhere, you were tired, your muscles ached, and you were over it. “Stevieeeeee are we done yet?” Steve just looked at you and chuckled, “go sit down doll, I’m going to run a few more laps.” You obliged and went to sit in the grass and watch your hot boyfriends run. “Why does she get to sit and I don’t? Stevieeeee,” Bucky complained. “You’re a super soldier, dreamboat. You can do it, plus shes our doll, you know I can’t say no to her.”

You watched your boyfriend’s running, and you decided to have some fun. The next time they passed you whistled and called out to them, “lookin’ good hotstuff! Take off your shirt! Give us a show!” You were completely joking, expecting them to maybe come over and tease you back, or shake their heads and chuckle a little. No, they actually did it, they took their sweaty shirts off and flung them at you. You caught them and stared in adoration as their ab muscles glistened from the sweat. The next time they came around they waltzed over to you, “so doll, you enjoy the show?” Bucky teased with an eyebrow wiggle. “Very much so,” you responded, sounding very serious. You stood up and snapped their shirts at them. To get you back they went in for a sweaty group hug. “Love you soooo much doll,” they repeated while doing so. “Gahhhhh,” you struggled in their hold.

You guys finally made it home, and you needed a shower. You all did. So you guys may or may not, have shared a shower to ‘save water’, and also may or may not, have had a little fun, in the shower. “Hurry! It’s 10:30 and we have to drive there,” you yelled out to your boyfriends, one of which was spending longer than you on his hair, and the other who was looking everywhere for his keys. They didn’t respond, so you went to first get Steve, “your keys are under the middle couch cushion.” He looked and they were there, he gave you a kiss, “thanks doll.” You then went to collect your other boyfriend, “Buck, your hair looks fine, come on!” Bucky grumbled about not being able to keep it out of his face, you grabbed a hair tie and slicked his hair back into a bun. He looked in the mirror, checking it, “thank ya doll,” he gave you a kiss and walked to where Steve was waiting. You quickly ran and grabbed your bag, and went to your boys. “I’m driving,” you grabbed the keys from Steve, “so that you two don’t know where we’re going.” The guys were excitingly but impatiently waiting while you were driving. Bucky was trying to get the answer out of you, while Steve was trying to work it out using which direction you were heading in.

“Dollllll! Come on, what is it? Tell usssss!!!!” Bucky had been whining the whole ride there. “Hmmm, is it the skating rink?” Steve asked as you took a left. “Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “You’ll know when we get there.” You arrived just in time, as soon as you pulled into the parking lot the guys were asking questions, what were you doing here, why you were here when you saw how bad they did the last time, and the most prominent one, what are we making. You had arrived at a culinary school’s classroom, you had pulled a favor and they let you use it for the day. You parked and turned to them, “I’m helping you both learn to cook, and not burn the kitchen down, and we are making whatever you two want, and then we’re eating it.” The guys were now excited, whatever they wanted, and they got to eat it!!! Super exciting. You brought them inside the kitchen and handed them each an apron, “Now, what are we making loves?” They both thought for a second. “Doll, can we make baked apple pudding? My ma used to make it back when Stevie and I were kids, and I’ve been craving some.” You smiled at Bucky, “of course Buck, how about you Stevie, what’s it gonna be, sky’s the limit?” Steve thought for a moment, “ooh! Buck, what was that thing my ma would make us when we got sick?” “Oh yeah! It was that thing with chicken and then the dough stuff, and it was kinda like soup.” You thought for a moment before asking, “chicken and dumplings?” The guys agreed that, that was what Steve was thinking of. “Alright then, chicken and dumplings with baked apple pudding for dessert. Let’s get in the kitchen and grab the ingredients.” The guys nodded and you all headed to the pantry to get ingredients.

“All right, you gotta put the salt into the bowl with flour and baking powder, you need 3/4 a teaspoon of salt.” Bucky looked at the measuring spoons, “is this the one doll?” You looked over, “yep, that’s the one you need Buck!”

You continued to make the food, and the guys were loving it, mostly because they weren’t burning anything and were doing it right, with your help. At the end you had a pot full of the soup, and a 9x13 dish of the pudding. It was time to taste test. “Good, it’s all ready, I’m starving,” Steve complained, “you’re always hungry,” you teased. He just leaned over the counter and kissed you. You dishes out 2 super soldier sized portions and one normal portion of the chicken and dumplings, handing the boys there’s, then moving to the bar stool in between the guys.

“Mmmmm oh my god doll, this tastes even better than Sarah’s,” Bucky moaned. Steve agreed that it was better than his ma’s, you argued that it was only because there were more spices available when there wasn’t a depression. The guys ate up their bowls and then went back for seconds, even after that they were still hungry for dessert. Bucky went over and dished it out, “ooh, doll this looks real good.” You had Steve go grab the ice cream from the walk in freezer, making a joke about him being frozen for 70 years of course. He jokingly glared and stuck his tongue out at you. The guys sat back down and bit into the pudding. “I can’t believe we made this! It tastes really good,” Steve exclaimed. Bucky agreed, while you just smiled, “I’m really proud of you my loves, and see Bucky, the onions weren’t that scary were they?” Bucky elbowed you in the side, but laughed along side you and Steve, “I suppose not, thank you for this doll, I really enjoyed it.” “Me too doll, I really loved sharing your hobby with you,” Steve lovingly told you.

You guys drove home, and once you got there Steve asked what you guys wanted to do next. “Hmm, ooh! Can we watch the movie we watched the day you guys asked me out? We never got to finish it,” you asked excitingly. “That sounds perfect doll,” Steve kissed you while Bucky ran off yelling back to you, “I’ll get pillows and blankets for a cuddle fort!” You and Steve laughed but set the movie up and helped form the fort once your boyfriend got back. You and Steve plopped down and Bucky jumped and landed right in between you both, then he curled up into yours and Steve’s lap, his head in yours, feet in Steve’s.

During the movie you played with Bucky’s hair with one hand and held Steve’s hand with the other. After the movie it was time to get ready for dinner, you guys got dressed in your fancy clothing. “Damn Stevie, call the fire department cause you are hot,” you complimented your boyfriend. “This coming from the one who looks like a literal angel from heaven, makin’ me want to stay here tonight.” Bucky came in before you could respond to Steve’s cheeky comment. “Woah, how’d I end up with the two hottest people on the planet?” Steve kissed Bucky, “cause we’re all tied for first, so it only makes sense.” Bucky drove you all to the restaurant and you three had a nice dinner.

You were all tired from the day when you got home, you took off your makeup and dress, slipping into a pair of Steve’s sweats and one of Bucky’s shirts. You cuddled and talked with the guys in bed till you all fell asleep. It had been the best anniversary you’d ever had.

#marvel #steve rogers #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky fic #stucky x reader #Bucky barnes #Steve fluff #steve x bucky x reader #Steve x reader #Steve fic #stucky fluff #stucky fic

149 notes · View notes

softyoongiionly · 3 years

Text

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.

Corruption.

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.

But the need to win was still present.

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

It’s said to be the home a monster.

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

It always has.

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.

Exhaustion was palpable.

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.

And there it is: the tower.

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.

The layout doesn’t make sense.

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.

Beautiful.

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.

And this is what has kept you frozen.

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.

But he had vanished.

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.

You know you should be terrified.

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.

“She’s awake!”

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

827 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought. unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once. It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there? Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression. "Ahh, I get it. You're not used to a female tailor. Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that. "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all. The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors. Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately. "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man? I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.

“What? No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky. “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.

"No, it's good for you! She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily. "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay. "Depends. How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently. "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned. "I'm leaving. And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone. It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call? Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you. Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long. He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone. Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way). “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated. “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.” Was it too forward? Too obvious? And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me. If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look. But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room. No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently. Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else. “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots. “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted. “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly. “And socks, of course. And some watches, maybe? And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too. I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy. He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either. As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.

Worse, his gut was less innocent. Mine, it demanded, all mine. Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret. You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space. Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety. Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

"So, what do you think?"

I think you look so damn good from every angle. I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again. I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve. I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality. “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit. The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent. Most of all, your talent was undeniable. "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly. "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly? I feel a bit… out of place. I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery. "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier. Sometimes you're only a man. And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts. “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger. “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel. But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck. The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?”

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good? Good looks?”

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now. Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you? You had to. You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something. You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, thanks.” He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow. You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted. He selected the solid gold one, making you smile. “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket. Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter. Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected. This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version. If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie. And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled. Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice. It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary. Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really? Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan. So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him. He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed. “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!”

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated. It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small. “Why not? You know how he is. Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced. “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry. You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then? You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not. Nothing’s ever happened between us. I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally? Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question. “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all. Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him. Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt.

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something.

"I know I certainly haven't. And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong. Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways. "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly. That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you. “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered. Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay? I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one. “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you. “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…” You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him. “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at. Conversation in any form typically stressed him out. But this? This he was still pretty good at. And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly. "Now look over there at that mirror. Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length. Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get. God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh. This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection. “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet. Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand. “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it. I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.

"What material is this skirt made of?"

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra. If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess. You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit. "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me? After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality. “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it. “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded. “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you? You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More? Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first. He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop. You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you. It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything. It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,�� you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up. He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you. “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs. Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it. Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?” you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you. He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk. "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed. You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own. "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you? I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again. Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet. I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm? What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go. His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you. At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left. He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout. He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either. He wanted to test you just a little. He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in. He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet. You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time. You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine. He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this. Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on. Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right? Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes. Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl. Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted.

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment. Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly. “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become. When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment. Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good. Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace. It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different. You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want? Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly. "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected. He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever. He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened. To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace. He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh. “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled. “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work. You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response. Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him. Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong. You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his. “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine? Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed. “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now. Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context. And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up. “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence. A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable. Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something. "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest. "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

1K notes · View notes

ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it.

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base.

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!”

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him.

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his.

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

#apparently i like it when big strong men are bad at talking because they're thinking too much #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

77 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 3 years

Text

Mahito and Todo

Gionshōja no kane no koe, Shogyōmujō no hibiki ari. Sarasōju no hana no iro, Jōshahissui no kotowari wo arawasu. Ogoreru mono mo hisashikarazu, tada haru no yo no yume no gotoshi. Takeki mono mo tsui ni wa horobin(u), hitoeni kaze no mae no chiri ni onaji.

The sound of the Gion Shōja bells echoes the impermanence of all things; the color of the sāla flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline. The proud do not endure, they are like a dream on a spring night; the mighty fall at last, they are as dust before the wind.

Todo is quoting the Tale of the Heike, one of the most famous stories in japanese literature. The central theme of the story is the Buddhist law of impermanence, specifically in the form of the fleeting nature of fortune. It’s remarking on the transitory nature of life. In other words, nothing is permanent.

However, Todo only quotes the first part of the text. However, we are the exception! Is something Todo added. Not only is he altering a classical text which has implications of arrogance in a cultural context, Todo is also turning the quote around entirely to say that even if everything in the world is fading, his friendship with Yuji will never fade.

All of this to say, that Todo and Mahito’s philosophies towards life are complete opposites. Mahito represents the inevitability of decay, which is why his touch destroys whereas Todo insists he is stronger than that decay, then that inevitability, and arrogant enough to fight against it. More on their character foiling under the cut.

1. Life Circles

The 4-character expression (yojijukugo) "the prosperous must decline" (盛者必衰, jōshahissui) is a phrase from the Humane King Sutra, in full "The prosperous inevitably decline, the full inevitably empty" (盛者必衰、実者必虚, jōsha hissui, jissha hikkyo).

Mahito as a character is someone very observant of natural law, and the nature of the world around him. His closest friends are all literally made to be embodiments of nature as cursed spirits.

The budhist law of impernanence is another natural law, remarking that with time everything fades. Eventually everything in this world will die. LIfe is fleeting, etc. etc. Mahito as a character has a special understanding of both the composition of the soul and the body. He can see through it in a way that others can’t.

However, his ability to see the soul causes him to dismiss it as nothing special. It is just another part of life. Mahito as a character observes and compeltely obeys both natural law and his nature. He is a curse. He’s there to curse people. He does that to his fullest ability. To Mahito life circles around. It cycles. Everything living must inevitably die, and because of that there’s really no point in attaching meaning to something imperanent.

Mahito just sees it as something that goes in circles. He doesn’t see the soul as anything special. Humans and curses both have souls, so they’re completely equal in his eyes. Human awareness, reason, logic, emotions, values, connections, doesn’t add anything to it, because Mahito can’t see them therefore it’s all made up. Mahito’s argument towards life then becomes very nihilistic.

Everything is the same in his eyes. Mahito can twist a human form to a fat, bulbous monster, but he still sees it as a human because there’s a human soul dwelling inside of it. Mahito rejects the idea that any of these things, human reason, human emotions, give any sort of value to life.

Mahito is inherently nihilistic, at least in the sense of moral nihilism. There is no meaning to life, therefore it gives me liscense to do whatever I want. He doesn’t have any respect for life in the slightest. Everything is fleeted to Mahito, so he’s completely without respect, and without sentiment, because to Mahito there is no point in getting invested in something that is inevitably going to die anyway.

Mahito is the embodiment of the fear of other human beings. Therefore it only makes sense, that he denies connection. Humans have no connection to one another, and no conenction to the world around them, they’re just there. It’s inherently nihilistic statement, because he’s arguing basically there’s no meaning to existence.

Jogo even calls Mahito the embodiment of death because he reflects that idea so well, that everything dies. Even Mahito’s own curse ability is the embodiment of his inability to connect, if he reaches out and touches someone he only harms them with just a single touch of his hand. Hands are pretty basic symbols of human connections.

However, even though Mahito’s nihilistic he’s not indifferent. He outright hates, and torments other humans. He encourages Junpei to hate life, exactly like he does.

2. We Exist

If Mahito is a character that hates life, antagonizes life, then Todo is the complete opposite of that. Todo is someone who represents love and connection. Hence why even down to his curse energy takes the form of little hearts.

Every detail we know about Aoi, centers around this idea of love, and particularly this love of life. The hearts are a repeating motif with him, they even appear on his volume cover. We know he has a crush on an idol named Takada.

The first question he always asks people when he meets them is what kind of girl do they like, (but even if it’s a guy who is only into other guys he finds that answer acceptable as well).

He dismisses Megumi from the moment he meets him, but immediately falls head over heels for Yuji. However, look at the difference between Yuji and Megumi. Megumi is someone who feigns indifference, and pretends not to be invested in the life around him. He’s always repressing his emotions and pretending he’s not interested. Yuji on the other hand, loves life, loves other people, and will react to save people’s lives without even thinking. Megumi is principled, but Yuji is unprincipled and acts on a simple love for the people around him, so therefore it makes sense why he’s more Todo’s type.

The only other person Todo seems to respect on the level of Yuji is Okkotsu Yuta, who also said this. Whose cursed technique was converting the girl he loved into a cursed spirit to remain with him after her death.

If Mahito’s character is built around the hatred humans have for each other, Todo is built around love. Even if it’s kind of in a weird way sometimes. He asks people what kind of girls they love. He respects people who are open about what they love. This isn’t even the first time that Love and curses have been connected thematically to each other in the series.

Love and curses are presented as a complementary pair. That is rather than being binary opposites ,like life and death, fire and whater, they’re like yin and yang. Two ideas that seem like opposites but go together. Love can be like a curse. You can curse someone you love. Etc. etc.

Love and hate, is much like love and cursing, seem like they’re opposite ideas. They’re traditionally held to be opposites. Mahito even comments on this. There’s Junpei who is apathetic. Mahito says the true opposite of love is hate, and saying apathy is the opposite is just japanese wordplay. He then encourages Junpei to hate people, to curse them. Mahito is a cursed spirit, hating people, cursing people is in his nature.

Junpei even said, the hatred that the bullies constantly lobbed against him, the fact that his mother was killed, it all felt like he was being cursed by everyone around him. Cursing people, hating people, are presented as the same thing to Mahito.

Mahito’s philosophy is basically that there’s no particular meaning to existence, therefore it’s okay to hate life.

Both Mahito and Todo have a special insight to how cursed energy flows around him. Todo as weird as he is, seems like the wisest of all the students especially in regards to curse energy.

Todo has a similiar perspective of the world as Todo. He too says that life, that cursed energy flows through the world. However, rather than using that argument for nihilism, he uses it for existentialism. Mahito says we don’t exist that there’s nothing special for existence. Todo says we do exist. Therefore it’s okay to love life.

While Mahito encourages Junpei to hate and spite others, Todo does the opposite of that, telling Todo to repress his hatred for now, because he has to think of the feelings and well being of the people he loves and is trying to protect first.

Todo is someone who fights against the natural order of things, for the sake of the love he feels for other people. He even literally fights Hanami, who is an embodiment of nature.

Hanami, the practice of watching the blooming sakura flowers is also a symbol of transience. Todo fights against this transience, and declares himself the exception. Mahito is natural order, Todo opposes natural order. Therefore in both love and hate, and also in philosophy they are complete opposites. Todo fights for what he loves, and Mahito fights for the sake of hating others.

Even in thie cursed techniques they are opposites. They both use their hands. However, Boogie Woogie is a cursed technique ideally suited for cooperation. When he claps his hands together he switches places with anything. Todo is like, the one sorcerer in the series whose cursed technique is far better for team fights than it is solo fights.

Mahito calls for them to curse each other.

Todo, blows a little kiss when he’s fighting against Mahito, another symbol of love.

(Mahito’s Let’s curse each other, is also a callback to Geto’s let’s curse each other. Geto is someone who after all, hates humans as well, at least the ones who aren’t jujutsu sorcerers).

When Mahito shows Yuji he is all alone by killing two of his allies Nobara and Nanami (Nobara is fine though), Todo shows Yuji that they are still all together because he is carrying the feelings of his allies with him. Something Mahito would insist means nothing. Something Todo says means everything.

Lastly, when Mahito moves to finish off Todo he’s distracted for a moment by Todo’s little locket. The symbol of his love for both Yuji and Takada.

Which buys Todo enough time to clap Mahito’s hand and used his cursed technique even after one of his own hands is completely blown off. Hands are the symbol of connection, Todo connects to others and Mahito doesn’t.

What’s ultimately ironic is the memories Todo has are completely fake. They are made up. Just like Mahito says, there is no meaning to life, any kind of meaning we try to make is just made up. However, even though Todo’s friendship with Yuji is completely imaginary, he obviously values it. His fake friendship with Yuji trumps Mahito who really only values his own individuality, and only thinks about himself.

Mahito says I am the only thing that’s real, therefore it’s only natural I only care about myself.

Todo says, my friendship is Yuji is real, and our feelings will far outlast both of us.

#todo aoi #aoi todo #mahito #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk meta #cursed spirit #cursed technique

469 notes · View notes

volleychumps · 3 years

Note

bro im am: in love with literally everything you put out and i've had this probably really specific, self-indulgent request and am highkey scared it'll flop because not much can relate but it's been living in my mind rent free: remember that one episode where hinata talks to a classmate, saying how it'd be cool to have a band cheer for the vball team?? Well, it gave me an idea, so how about boys of your choice with a musically adept s/o?? she's part of the school band which frequently performs in tournament matches to cheer. her talent made her pretty well-known, though fame can attract both good and bad people—what happens when a guy from the opposing team gets a little too friendly? headcanons or scenarios is also up to you, and feel free to make s/o a crush instead (they aren't dating yet) if that makes the writing process more flexible! thank you so much, and have a lovely day/night!

VolleyBoys with a Crush on Singer S/O

~ when you come and perform at one of their games in order to give school spirit, you’re approached by someone from another team because of your talent, leaving some less than happy boys

format: scenarios

genre: fluff

- includes: Suna, Semi, and Matsukawa

Warning(s): slight cursing, possessive volleyboys

Playing with some characters I’ve never really wrote for before, let me know how I do!

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

Suna (main vocals)

“You’re staring.”

“Go give your attention to someone who cares.” Suna’s lazy tone was a bit more snipped than usual as the cheers from the crowd finally died down, irritation evident in his tone as Atsumu smirks. The dark-haired blocker could pretend to be as uncaring as he wanted, but his tone gave him away.

“Mad Y/N’s getting all the attention?”

“Nah, he’s pissed because he can’t hog her all to himself anymore.”

Suna rolled his eyes, Osamu merely shrugging alongside his brother as the three towel off in the middle of a break point for Inarizaki’s school band to make their performance. He hated that he loved seeing you up there, a light sheen of sweat on your forehead from the performance, your hair tied back with a wide smile on your face-

he hated seeing everyone see you.

“Yeah, so how’s that going for you? How are you two not dating yet-”

“Kita-san, I think Atsumu and Osamu have questions about the play.” Suna cupped his mouth as the twins stiffen. The dark haired spiker waved mockingly goodbye as his teammates were snatched by the collars, focusing his attention to what he had orginally been quietly watching. He tilted his head as you struggled to open the top of your water bottle, peering at it with a pout before he scoffs, beginning to walk-

“Need help, sweetheart?”

Suna stopped.

You blinked, eyes widening as Kuroo Tetsurou easily twisted the cap off, handing it back to you with a naturally sly grin. He reaches a hand to the back of his neck as you smile in thanks, tilting the water back.

“So the kitty can sing?”

“Kitty?!” You choked on your water, noting his school colors before flushing. Why on earth was the Nekoma team captain flirting with the lead singer of the school band for Inarizaki?

“I’m guessing you liked that.” Kuroo chuckles, patting your back in a more-than-friendly manner as you continue to cough, and your bandmates whistle, pretending not to notice the attractive captain’s advances.

“Untrue. Don’t you have a game to play or something?” There’s no malicious intent behind your words, so Kuroo’s grin turns into a soft smirk as he begins to lean a little closer-

“Gross. You’re all sweaty.”

A towel is pressed to your face, Suna unfazed as you complain against the material. You feel the back of your head touch his chest as Suna pulls you into him with the towel pressed on your face, sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Kuroo’s feral ones remain amused.

“Looks like this kitten is domesticated.”

You break free for a second, popping out of the towel successfully. “I’m not a kitten!”

“Sure, kitten.” Kuroo winks at you again, beginning to walk off before sparing a glance to Suna, nodding once in amusement. You remain distracted, spinning on your heel to face your friend in embarrassment and confusion.

“Why would you-?!”

“Hey.” Suna tilts his head, dull eyes staring into yours as you find it a little harder to swallow.

“What?”

He bends down to your height, flicking the tip of your nose as you begin to protest-

“Good performance. Come meet me after I rock this cat’s ass in this match, yeah?” His palm is warm on top of your head as you find yourself nodding stupidly as he brushes past you to a smiley Atsumu, sharp eyes searching for Kuroo Tetsurou.

“So how’s it going?”

“Go to hell, Atsumu.”

“Is he blushing, Osamu?”

“Yep.”

Semi (Guitarist)

“Out of your league.”

“I literally haven’t said anything.” Semi shoots back at the redhead, and Tendou grins as he also watches your jogging-away figure as you head back for the stage. A scarlet bandana was now tied around your wrist, Semi’s eyes darting everywhere as Tendou’s grin turns sinister.

“Oh? Y/N-chan, will you wear my bandana so I can brand you? I’m begging-!”

“Do you want to punch him or should I?” Semi snips, and Goshiki slowly stops Shirabu from raising his hand as Ushijima props one eye open at the situation from his concentration.

“Why’d you give it to her then?” Taichi asks, genuinely interested as you bop your head to the final song atop the stage, fingering the strings of your guitar with a small smile at your new goodluck charm.

“Are you kidding me? Those two are always joined at the hip, I knew one of them was in love with the other.” Shibraru doesn’t miss a beat as Ojiro chuckles, having noticed that as well. Semi scoffs over the music, as if that were the craziest thing in the world.

“Y/N L/N? As if.”

“Have fun convincing yourself.” Ushijima closes his eyes again just as the song ends, and Semi’s cheeks begin to flare up as he grabs his hair in frustration, an annoying pounding in his chest.

“Well, don’t take too long now.” Tendou sings, looking at an entertaining sight. “If you don’t want Y/N, do you think the pretty boy from Fukurodani wants her?”

Semi stalls, thinking Tendou was playing another one of his mind games before looking as well, mouth drying at the sight.

Akaashi Keiji had offered you a hand as you propped your guitar, making your way off the stage easier as you had seemed worried about getting down before.

The setter’s throat tightened as you accepted, a smile tickling your cheeks as Akaashi helps you off the stage in a gentlemanly manner. You stumble slightly, giggling as Akaashi fondly steadies you by the waist, complimenting you on your performance.

“I could never do that, L/N-san. You’re very talented.”

“It’s really nothing...”

Semi felt it then. Too used to watching from so far away, yet always close enough to keep you in view.

But you stood close to him. Mere minutes before, excited gleam in your eye as he tied the bandana around your wrist, and you had locked eyes with him. It was only for a few moments, calloused fingers almost inching towards his-

“Y/N. I give you this crap and you don’t even use it?” Semi was annoyed, dark eyes flaring as he bounds over to the two of you as you blink in confusion, his teammates watching the spectacle with slight interest. You flush as Semi’s eyes harden in the direction of Akaashi, who’s head tilts slightly.

“What-?”

“Shut it. I’ll do it if you won’t, why’d you even ask?” Semi clicks his tongue as he unties the bandana, pooling your hair into a makeshift knot before barely glancing at the blue-eyed setter, focusing his attention on your hair as he stakes his claim.

“Something you needed with our band captain?”

“Nope. Just glad to have been of some aid. Then...” He nodded to you, but Semi could see the slight disappointment in his eyes underneath the cool atmosphere Akaashi held up as he walked onto the opposite side of the court.

“...Sorry Semi.”

“For what?” Semi questioned, feeling the embarassment beginning to creep up on him, heat tickling his cheeks as he watches you shuffle a bit from the proximity. He felt you shiver once his fingers accidentally grazed the back of his neck, causing Semi’s voice to get caught in his throat.

“Not using your bandana correctly...” You mumbled, the tips of your ears turning pink as Semi watches in bewilderment. A lilt tickled the edge of his lips as he finished tying the scarlet material, leaning down from behind you so his forehead touched your shoulder as if he were exhausted. You tensed up before relaxing, enjoying his touch.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Matsukawa (drummer)

“How far do you think I can go to piss off your little fanboys?”

“Why are you even over here?”

“Moral support, princess.” Matsukawa grinned into his water bottle as you half-heartedly help him wipe the sweat gathered at his neck, your friend flicking off Hanamaki and Oikawa in the distance as they make romantic gestures with their hands as they go unnoticed by you.

“You look like you’re dead tired and it’s only halfway through the game.” You note, handing him back the towel as Matsukawa grins, leaning a little closer to you from his spot next to you on the edge of the stage.

“Careful, you might make me think you care about me.”

“Of course I do.” You don’t miss a beat, already distracted with slipping your drumsticks out of your pocket. Matsukawa’s jaw slackens a little as you get up, nudging him with your foot to get off before shooting him an easy smile.

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Even though you’re kind of an asshole.”

The brunette recovers quickly, Matsukawa smirking as he slips off the stage as you settle back into your drumset.

“You love me, princess.”

“Yeah yeah, go swat a volleyball around.” Your tone is teasing as your bandmates begin to fall back into place, and Matsukawa mockingly salutes you before walking back to his team, ignoring the involuntary replaying of your words in his head.

Of course I do.

He was oddly quiet as Hanamaki teased him, watching as your band fell into a beautiful rhythm led by your hands. Agitation grew in his stomach as it mixed with his stupid crush on you, wanting nothing more than to let all your little fans to become severely disappointed because of him.

Matsukawa Issei was a very possessive man, but it was an underlying kind of possessive. The kind of posessive where he silently protected you from those who were attracted by your talent and style, or the kindness in your smile or witty comebacks-

“Uh, Matsukawa?”

“I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re going to be the best man at mine and Y/N’s nonexistent wedding-”

“No.” Hanamaki grinned, jutting his head in your direction. Matsukawa didn’t even realize the song had ended, watching as Atsumu Miya had picked up your hand, bringing it up to his lips flirtatiously as you stared wide-eyed as if you had busted a fuse.

“Yep. My bad, there will be no wedding.” Hanamaki clasps his shoulder, not realizing the impact of his teasing words. “Because Atsumu Miya’s gonna get her first if you don’t step up your game, bro.”

But Matsukawa didn’t reply with some witty comeback, still watching as Atsumu brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. He didn’t like it. The embarrassed look on your face, the awkward smile on your lips, the laugh in your throat- all caused by someone who wasn’t him.

“How about ya show me how to play those drums sometimes?” Atsumu had taken a step closer, and your fists had clenched as you felt yourself at a loss for words. You had opened your mouth to reply, but all that slipped out was a yelp.

Matsukawa easily threw you over his shoulder, grinning relaxedly at Atsumu who’s flirtatious grin had digressed back to a flat line. You knocked on Matsukawa’s back with embarrassment in your stomach, but the brunette made no move to put you down.

“Sorry, I’m her agent. She’s gotta go meet with her fans.”

“Issei!”

He ignored your chants to put you down as Oikawa and Hanamaki slowly clap as he brushes past them and out the gym doors, a pounding in his ears.

“Why are you doing this?” You question, now in an empty hallway as you hear Matsukawa scoff, still not answering your question as he continues to walk with you slung over his shoulder.

“Issei.”

“I told you I wanted to piss of your fanboys, didn’t I?”

“Tell me the truth!” You raised your voice just as he put you down, and Matsukawa looks at you for a second, your back hitting the wall as he towers over you.

“What?” Your voice was smaller now, feeling like you’ve shrunk under your friend’s serious gaze that was usually anything but. Matsukawa’s hand touches the area above your head, leaning into you so your noses are barely brushing.

“Tell me, princess. Do you still want the truth even if it ruins our friendship?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs @spikertrash @yamaguwuchi @lord-suneater-explosion @nekomawhore @holaaaf@babyybokutoakaashi @lexysclubhouse

548 notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

The Escape Room

requested by anon (lol although I know who it is now 👀👀) - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! thanks for the fun prompt!

Pairing: Jin x reader

Premise: Three words: competitive. escape. room.

Warnings: none. what you are about to witness is pure fluff.

___________________________

"JEON JUNGKOOK GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!” You shout as you watch the maknae of the group scrambling from one end of the room to the other. “You too, Seokjin! I’m not about to spend my paycheck buying someone’s dinner!”

Taehyung cackles, giving you a high-five as you run past him, carrying a small portrait in your hands and hanging it up on the opposite wall. You stare at it for a moment before rotating it 90 degrees. An audible click sounds in the small room, and Jungkook lets out a shout of triumph.

In the escape room next door you can hear Yoongi, Namjoon, Hobi, and Jimin collectively groaning in annoyance.

It’s like music to your ears.

You grin, rushing to the door that has just unlocked. It looks like there's only one room left, which is all the better. There’s no way you’re going to be roped into buying dinner for the opposing team. Not when you barely make above minimum wage and have sold your soul to the devil that is higher education.

Jin isn’t displaying quite the same amount of vigor the other two boys are, instead he’s caught in the middle of the room while the rest of you rush out, making you turn back to him with an arched brow. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, clearly lost inside him own head.

Ears turning a little red at being caught staring, Jin clears his throat and follows after you into the next room. Together, the four of you begin to scour the room for clues.

Jin grins at your enthusiasm, making a mental note to thank Sejin for bailing at the last second on their afternoon together. As an apology he sent you in his stead, claiming that you were sure to put Namjoon’s team in their place once and for all.

“Tae, can you reach that book up there?” You ask so politely that it has Jin wondering if you’re the same person that was just shouting orders mere seconds ago.

Either way, Jin doesn’t care. The only thing he knows is that he’s a goner.

“I-I’ll get it,” Jin curses himself for his nervous stutter, but brushes it off. “Which book?”

Taehyung and Jungkook share a knowing look, grinning like school children. What neither you nor Jin know is that Sejin didn’t “accidentally bail”. No, he sent you as a part of a larger plot.

For weeks, Sejin has been going on and on about you and how you’re a perfect match for the eldest member of BTS. He’d wanted to prove it, so naturally he’d created the perfect scenario.

You, and all seven members of BTS at an escape room. Competing against each other.

And somehow ending up on the same team as an unsuspecting Seokjin who had immediately turned a little red when you greeted him.

Needless to say, Taehyung and Jungkook knew that things were going along quite nicely.

“Here you go,” Jin says, passing you the red book you had immediately set your eye on. You smile up at him tentatively, overjoyed when he returns the smile with his own dazzling one.

Together the two of you bring the book over to the table in the middle of the room and begin leafing through it while Jungkook and Taehyung busy themselves with other tasks.

Jin doesn’t want to admit that he hasn’t looked at a single page of this book. He’s been too busy marveling at the way your eyes light up and what it does to his heart. Without even thinking about it, he stands a little closer to you. Hopefully you won’t notice.

You definitely do, but you’re not complaining. Especially not as Jin leans down to point something out on the page and he almost completely covers you with his body.

“You see, this page looks like a map of the room,” Jin says quietly, for your ears only. “Do you think it might have some hints hidden in it?”

You suck on your lower lip, nodding along. “Ooh, very smart Seokjin. But...why are we whispering?”

Jin smiles, the action enough to nearly knock you off of your feet. “Well...how about we team up? Just the two of us? We’ll split the reward.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face him, heart rate picking up at the way Jin’s eyes slowly trace the lines of your face. He’s close enough that all it would take is getting up on your tippy-toes -

“If you wanted to ask her out to dinner, just say it hyung.”

The spell is broken by Jungkook’s giggles as Taehyung smirks at his brother from the opposite end of the table. As though dunked in freezing water, the both of you jump back.

“What?” Jin gasps, feigning innocence. “Why were you two listening in on our conversation?! I get no respect-”

“Hyung,” Jungkook interrupts. “You do realize that we’re in a very small room, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Anyways,” you cut in, “Let’s finish this thing and win! Hurry up, Jungkook. Haven’t you guys found anything?”

It takes another agonizing eight minutes to bust out of the room, Taehyung and Jungkook running through the door at lightning speed. You laugh at their reaction, falling into step beside Jin and walking at a leisurely pace.

You’re about three steps away from the door and sweet, sweet victory when Jungkook jumps up and closes it on you.

Jin leaps forward, pounding at the door and laughing. “Yah! Open up!”

Jungkook’s muffled voice is heard from the other side. “Not until you ask her out like a man!”

If you could melt through the floor, you would. You laugh awkwardly, putting your head in your hands. Jin continues knocking on the door, slowly losing his original vigor.

Once he falls silent in his pleas you look up to see him already looking at you. The expression on his face makes him look a little lost, but he swallows thickly before speaking with assumed confidence.

“I...there’s really no pressure, but if you wanted to, I’d love to-”

The sounds of the other group exiting their escape room cuts Jin off, making him turn an even brighter shade of red.

“Where’s the rest of your team?” Hobi asks. Taehyung and Jungkook laugh darkly.

“Spending some alone time on the other side of that door.”

Jin whips around, prepared to knock the door down. “Taehyung-ah! You take that back right now or so help me I’ll....I’ll...” He turns to you with a shocked expression. “Quick, I need something intimidating.”

Stepping up beside Jin, you join him in pounding the door. “Or we’ll cut holes into all of your socks!”

Jin laughs, the sound making you laugh along with him. “Yeah! Watch it!”

Looking up at Jin, you give him a little nudge. “Hey.”

He pauses for a moment, his face red from the exertion. “Yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me out?”

Tension dissolving from his body in an instant, Jin gives you a genuine smile. A little timid at first, but growing until he can no longer contain his glee.

“Oh, definitely. What are you doing after this?”

masterlist

#jin x reader #jin x y/n #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts fluff #jin fluff #kim seokjin #Seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #wwh #wwh u know #bts as your friends #idol!jin #idol!bts

162 notes · View notes

lizamango · 3 years

Text

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!!

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter!

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies, @yaszx

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6: I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader #series rewrite #reader insert #you #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x platonic!reader #wanda maximoff #best friends with Wanda #winter soldier

43 notes · View notes

frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Haunt (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Impeccable timing brings you and Wanda together.

Warnings: ghosts/demons, haunting, Ultron who?

A/N: as we get later into the series, the level of exposed I feel is only going to increase. I may or may not have put some of my own feelings into this one, which I usually do anyway, but this is a super personal thing that it took me a while to even tell my closest friend so...be gentle with me. and leave feedback!

**click here to be added to the taglist!!**

The rhythmic chopping of the knife through vegetables on the cutting board echoed through the sunlit kitchen, which was silent aside from the soft music playing through the bluetooth speaker. A grin appeared on Wanda’s lips as she realized she’d begun to mimic the beat of the current song, and if Pietro was here, he’d make his usual joke about her bringing work home. Luckily he wouldn’t be arriving for dinner for another two hours.

“Alexei, hi!” she greeted the tan corgi cheerfully as he padded into the room. “I’m sorry, but I can’t share any of this with you. The vet said you’re allergic to paprika, remember?”

An adoring smile was thrown Alexei’s way as he settled into one of his many beds to watch her cook. The vegetables were placed in a container near the stovetop as she headed to grab the aforementioned spice, sighing when she opened the cabinet and spotted the nearly empty jar.

“Can I trust you not to make a mess while I’m gone?” she asked Alexei as she faced him, chuckling when he raised his head from his paws with a curious tilt. “That’s what I thought.”

She quickly covered the food that was already prepped for the nonstick skillet resting on the stovetop and blew a kiss to her pup on the way out of the kitchen. Her phone and wallet were placed in the pockets of her jeans before she slipped on a hoodie, zipping it with one hand as she grabbed her keys with the other.

Traffic seemed lighter than usual as she made her way toward the main street, and she couldn’t fight the smile that appeared as she passed the many yards of children playing in front lawns. It was the last Saturday before the school year started, and they were determined to get as much time in the sun as they could before being stuck inside for five days a week. Wanda turned left at the end of the block and was just about to pass an alley when someone bumped into her.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

The whispered words seem to echo through the silent apartment at a deafening volume, each one timed perfectly along with every tap of your foot on the floor beside your bed. It was a taunting way of indirectly forcing you to count out the phrase that seemed to inevitably break you.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Please, can I just have one fucking day?” you pleaded as you lifted your head, keeping your gaze away from the corner of the room where the voice was coming from.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

A few more minutes passed before you grew tired of feeling suffocated, and you jumped off the bed to grab your phone and wallet, sliding them into your pockets before putting on a light hoodie that you zipped up as you walked. You snatched your keys from the hook beside the door before hurrying out of the apartment, locking the door and rushing down the hall and out to the street. Feeling the warm breeze and the sun on your cheeks was a welcoming contrast to the chill of your dark bedroom.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

You jumped in response to the rushed whisper in your ear, letting out a groan as the words continued to repeat while you took a shortcut through the alleys. Flashes of arms circling your waist and lips melting against yours poured into your mind and you stopped in the middle of the next alley to close your eyes and focus on breathing. The whispers quieted, and you were almost certain you were going to catch a break for once when a car horn went off. Your loud scream was masked by those of the children on the other side of the block as your eyes flew open and you started running, your journey to the sidewalk being cut short by another woman.

“Sorry!” you called out breathlessly as she stumbled back while trying to catch you, and you carefully pulled away with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No no, I’m fine,” she laughed nervously as she fixed her jacket sleeves, her bright smile falling a bit as she met your eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Also fine.” You averted your gaze with a harsh swallow, suddenly aware of how tired you must look. “Hey, I was headed to the grocery store...Am I going the right way?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes widened and her welcoming grin was restored. “I was actually going there myself if you’d like to walk with me.”

“Sure.”

The two of you turned and began walking side by side toward the busy intersection in silence, your steps seeming to line up perfectly, and you shook your head to clear the memory of those cursed words lining up with the tapping of your foot.

“So I’m not sure if this is too invasive of a stranger to ask but…” You faced the dark-haired woman and she did the same as you began crossing the parking lot. “I noticed you have a bit of an accent. Does that come from somewhere else?”

“Yes,” she answered with a bit of a chuckle. “My parents brought my twin brother and I here from Sokovia when we were 10, just before a bombing destroyed the building we used to live in.”

“Wow, your parents have impeccable timing. But that’s so cool that you have a twin. What’s his name? Well, I’d like to know your name first.”

“I’m Wanda,” she introduced herself with a smile that widened even more when you told her your name while shaking her hand. “And my brother’s name is Pietro.”

“Wait, is your brother Pietro Maximoff, the soccer player?” Your eyebrows raised instantly as she nodded. “My roommate loves soccer and she is obsessed with him. She has a huge Quicksilver poster on the wall above her bed.”

“They call him that because he runs so fast that the players from the opposing team always struggle to keep up.” Her laugh is muffled by the air conditioning as you walk through the automatic doors. “Do you need a cart? I really just came for one thing and maybe a bakery item or something.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just grabbing a few snacks.”

You take longer than necessary to make your way to the spices, snack aisles and bakery, which gives you a chance to learn about this bright-eyed, kindhearted woman with an accent that made your mind go a bit fuzzy. You found out that she was a music teacher at an elementary school, which sounded a lot more interesting than the job you’d chosen to stick with simply because you needed to pay bills. She was determined to convince you otherwise.

“Wanda, it’s fine!” you insisted as the two of you left the check out line and made your way toward the exit. “I actually prefer boring and normal right now anyway. I haven’t really ever been able to use those words when describing my life before, so this is great.”

You could feel her eyes locked on you as she followed you to the main street, and you waited for her at the corner to cross together, offering her a reassuring smile as the light changed. The two of you were standing in front of her one-story home within a few blocks, and as you took a look at the potted plants on either side of the welcome mat and lantern hung by the door, you couldn’t help but think that you’d be able to figure out this place was hers even if she hadn’t pointed it out.

“Pietro’s coming for dinner tonight if you and your roommate would like to join us,” she told you in a seemingly hopeful tone as she faced you from the steps leading to the porch. “I always make way too much food anyway.”

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Um...” You paused to clear your throat. “I actually have plans tonight but maybe I can come back tomorrow afternoon for a movie or something, if you’re not busy. I had fun with you.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great! I wake up pretty early so you can come over whenever.”

“Okay, cool. Cute dog, by the way.”

You nodded over at the corgi watching you from the window, grinning when Wanda followed your gaze and laughed, and you bid farewell with a simple wave before walking away to finish the trip back to your building. Your smile fell as the whispers began filling your ears again before you even reached the corner of the block, and you wondered how long this situation with Wanda would last before you scared her away.

Tags: @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #the avengers #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

189 notes · View notes

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Drawings on Ice (Part Two) | Charlie Gillespie

A/N: Part two to the Hockey Player! Charlie x Artist!Reader au! Hope you like it! :) You can read part one HERE

Pairing: Hockey Player!Charlie Gillespie x Artist!Reader

Warnings: a fight, mentions of blood, curse words

Words: 3,948

There hasn’t been a day you didn’t spend together. You go to every single one of his hockey practices and games, after which you head to the café for some coffee -- or in Charlie’s case, hot chocolate. He joins you and Andrea on your study dates, mostly to just annoy you by poking you with his pencil, begging you to go somewhere else. On nights where he doesn’t have practice and you’re not in the library to study, the two of you spend time in either one of your dorms to watch movies or tv-shows, cuddled up on the bed.

Though a lot of people started thinking you are a couple, you hadn’t talked about that with Charlie yet. Even after him telling you about that reputation of his, you still wanted to be cautious. Your heart has been broken many times, you didn’t think it could handle another. Especially with a guy like Charlie. “Hey, Gorgeous,” Charlie greets flirtily when you arrive at the ice rink to watch him practice. You’ve got your sketchpad clutched to your chest, ready to work on some of the Hockey Team’s drawings. “Hi, Char,” you say back, unable to withhold a giggle at his pet name for you. He’s been calling you Gorgeous since the day after you went to the coffee house for the first time after the game. “Don’t you have to go and listen to what your coach is saying?” you ask, noticing the other’s gathering to listen to the coach’s instruction. He glances back at the team, then turns back to you with that charming, flirty smile of his you’ve come to love. “Nah, I’d rather say hello to a beautiful girl than listen to the coach blab about strategies that don’t work.” You roll your eyes at his obvious flirty behavior. Lately, though, he’s only ever flirting with you. You haven’t seen him talk to many other girls except you and Andrea, and between the two of you, he only ever flirts with you. Mostly because Sam will kill him if he does flirt with Andrea. “Hey, will you stay until after practice? I wanna show you something!” Charlie is always excited about everything, but this time, it tops all the others. His eyes are sparkling with hope and excitement, the hazel color turning more gold than brown, and his mouth is curled up into the brightest, widest smile you’d ever seen. “Yeah, of course!” you reply, trying to match his excitement. “Gillespie, get your ass over here!” Coach yells at him, which Charlie rolls his eyes at, making you chuckle. His gloved hand takes yours, basically ripping it off your sketchpad, and kisses your knuckles before giving you a wink and then skating off to join the team. All the boys welcome him back with a teasing uproar of cheers and wolf whistles. You chuckle, rolling your eyes amusedly, and then make your way to the bleachers where you continue working on your drawings, glancing up every now and then to watch Charlie on the ice. There was something about the way he skated around. So elegant. So peaceful. Charlie really is in his element on the ice. It’s the most adorable and attractive version of Charlie you know of. It’s the side of him you love the most since it’s the side you draw him in the most. Practice is over sooner than you thought it would and it only takes Charlie about fifteen minutes to come out of the dressing rooms, showered and ready to go. “Are you ready?” he asks, taking your hand to help you up from your seat. “I have no clue where we’re going, but yeah?” you reply as he leads you out of the rink, still holding your hand while your other clutches your sketchpad. He takes you across campus, going way faster than your feet can take. Your giggles fleet through the night sky, making some heads turn of students on their way to a party or their dorms. He takes you into the astrology building, through hallways and corridors until you reach the auditorium. He lets go of your hand and pushes the heavy doors open. You’re amazed those doors aren’t locked, but you’ve learned to just roll with whatever Charlie’s doing. The sight you’re met with right now is a breathtaking one. Blankets and pillows on the floor, food spread all around it, a guitar on the side, fairy lights scattered all around to illuminate the dark room, and, most importantly, a breathtaking view on the night sky. You scuffle inside, giving your eyes the time and pleasure to take it all in as Charlie stands back, watching you with an endeared, tender smile on his face. Once you feel you’ve seen everything, you turn around to Charlie. “Wha--? Charlie?” He laughs at your surprised and confused face before walking up to you and taking your hand again, now leading you towards the pile of blankets and pillows. “I’m buddies with the astrology professor, he gave me the keys and Andrea and her friends helped me put all of this in here,” he explains as the two of you sit down. With your mouth a little ajar, you look up to the beautiful stars above you. Charlie’s hand comes into your peripheral as he’s pointing up to show you something. “That’s the Big Dipper up there, right above us,” he informs you. “And that one over there,” he moves his hand slightly, “is Sirius, it’s considered to be the most beautiful star, but I beg to differ.” You look at him, finding him already looking at you with that flirty smile on his face again. “Oh, shut up.” You slap him on the chest playfully, unable to hide your smile or the blush that’s creeping up on your cheeks. Charlie definitely notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just knowing he has that effect on you, is enough for him. “So,” he opens the basket and takes out a bottle of white wine. “Andi told me you liked white wine, so… I told her she could buy a bottle she thinks you’d like and I paid her.” You chuckle at his explanation and nod your head. “I do love a good white wine.” He pours some of the goddess liquid into two glasses, and hands one to you. “You really are a charmer, Gillespie,” you say as you clink your glasses together, looking in each other’s eyes. “Is it working yet?” he asks while you take a sip. You let out a small moan at how good this wine is before looking up at Charlie again, a little confused at what he’s hinting at. “Is what working?” He chuckles nervously, twirling his wine around and staring at the whirlpool it’s creating. “What?” you chuckle, trying to capture his eyes. He finally looks up at you, his eyes sparkling with joy and hope, his mouth curling up into the most tender smile you’d ever seen. “What, Charlie?” you try again, getting a little insecure. “I thought it’d be pretty obvious right now that I’m insanely in love with you?” he blurts out with a nervous quiver in his tone. You’re taken aback by this answer. You knew he kind of liked you and his flirty behavior has increased over the days, but you thought that was it. A crush and a bit of harmless flirting. Nothing quite as serious as being in love. “Oh…” you manage to bring out. “Charlie, I--” he shakes his head, shutting you up. “No, I get it, Y/N. It’s fine. You don’t want to date someone with a reputation like mine. I get it…” You exhale slowly and place your glass of wine on the floor before grabbing Charlie’s hands in yours. He looks up at this, unsure of what’s happening. “It’s not you, Charlie.... I don’t care about the reputation you have because I get to see who you really are… And I like you, but I’m trying to be cautious with who I’m dating. My heart’s been broken many times before, and before you say ‘I’m not going to break your heart’, I know. You’re probably not, but… I just…” You heave in a deep breath, trying to think of something. “Just give me some time, okay?” You place a hand on his cheek and rub your thumb against the soft skin as it wrinkles into that beautiful, charming smile again. “Yeah, okay,” he replies, placing his hand on yours on his cheek. “We still… We still get to hang out though, right?” he queries carefully. You chuckle at this, retreating your hand, and nodding. “Phew! And you’re still coming to the game tomorrow?” “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want to miss it,” you reply and grab a grape from the basket. “Good, because I’m going to need my lucky charm when we play against St. Mary’s.” You shoot him a questioning look, tilting your head slightly. “They’re our biggest rivals. They’ve won against every other university, including us last season. We really have to beat them tomorrow.” You nod your head understandingly. “I’ll wear my best cheerleading outfit,” you say jokingly. Though, judging from Charlie’s eyes nearly popping out of his eye sockets, you know he’s not opposed to that idea. “I don’t have a cheerleading outfit, Char,” you tell him, just to be sure. His face falters, clearly disappointed. “You’d look hot in that though,” he mutters under his breath, but you heard him, loud and clear. With an amused smile plastered on your face, you shake your head at him. Even after his confession from earlier, nothing has changed between the two of you. And for now, that’s all you need.

Dressed in black skinny jeans, Charlie’s Canada sweater he left in your dorm one night, and a beanie over your ears, you go to the ice rink. Andrea has already taken a seat in the bleachers, so you go up and join her. “How was your date last night?” she asks immediately without missing a beat. “It wasn’t a date. But it was really fun. Thank you, by the way. The wine was divine.” She chuckles and taps your thigh twice. “You’re most welcome,” she says. “Oh, look! Here come the boys!” she points to the ice where the team skates onto the field, ready to kick St. Mary’s ass. You lock eyes with Charlie as he gets into position. His lips turn up into a somewhat relieved smile, like he was scared she wouldn’t turn up after his confession last night. You offer him a wave and then a thumbs-up, shooting some encouragement his way. The first half goes really well. Charlie and Sam score most of the goals, but by half-time, they’re tied with St. Mary since their right and left wings are amazing players too. The coach calls the team to gather as you and Andrea make your way down to say hi afterwards. “St. Mary’s left wing has a weak knee,” you tell Charlie when he’s skated up to you, taking his helmet off and shaking his hair out. “Hello to you too,” he chuckles, placing one gloved hand over yours as they clutch the rink. “Sorry, hi! I saw their number 12 buckle a little when you accidentally hit his knee. I think you could use that to your advantage.” You’d never paid this much attention to a game, but knowing the team has to win against St. Mary, you figured you could use your observation skills to your advantage to find one for them. “Look who’s paying attention,” he smirks at you, which you amusedly roll your eyes at. “Thanks,” he adds when the ref blows his whistle to signal the start of the second half. “Good luck, Char,” you say and lean in to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes widen slightly at the sudden display of affection, unable to hide his cheeks reddening. You can’t help but smile as he skates off, ready for the second half. “You can’t tell me you’re not in love with him, Peaches,” Andrea says as she snakes an arm around your shoulders whilst you both walk back to your seats. “I am not in love with Charlie, Andi,” you reassure her, but you’re not even so sure anymore yourself. You’ve caught yourself thinking about Charlie on more occasions than one, dreamt of kissing him, wished you could just spend more time with him. You knew you were slowly, but surely falling for him. Even after many attempts of occupying yourself with other thoughts. Nothing really seemed to work. But you were still going to deny it. To Charlie. To Andrea. But mostly, to yourself. You were so preoccupied by talking to Andrea, you didn’t even notice what was happening behind you as you were getting back to your seat. “Yo, Gillespie,” St. Mary’s number 12 captures his attention, “Isn’t that new love of yours the weirdo artist kid that draws everyone they see like a stalker?.” Charlie’s jaw clenched as his hands balled up into fists. Sam intervenes before his buddy can take as much as a step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it, man. Let’s just finish this game, okay?” Sam suggests. Charlie nods his head, calming down slightly as he starts making his way to his spot on the ice, only for number 12 to add some fuel to the fire. “What’s wrong, Gillespie? You’re not even going to defend them?” Charlie halts, trying his hardest to refrain himself. “So, you agree with me that they’re a fucking creepy stalker?” Charlie’s hands are back into fists, gripping harshly onto his hockey stick. “I can’t wait until after the game, so I can--” before number 12 finishes his sentence, Charlie drops his helmet and harshly tugs his gloves off before hitting the guy in his knee with his stick, making him tumble over onto the ice. He sits down on top of him, lashing out at the boy underneath. The ref whistles again while Charlie’s teammates try to get him off number 12, to no avail. Number 12 then takes over and rolls the both of them over, Charlie underneath him now, and punches him in the face a few times. You watch the spectacle from half-way to your seat, staring at the boys on the ice in pure shock and horror. You’re frozen in place, unsure about what to do. Though Charlie looks extremely hot, yet it looks so horrible. Why is it when boys fight, does it look so horrible, yet, feel so right? Soon enough, the boys are pulled apart by their coaches. There are blood splatters everywhere. On the ice, on the boys’ clothes and faces. Even on some of their teammates. The two are taken off the ice, another one filling in for them. Upon seeing this, you run down to where Charlie and his coach are, worry filling up your entire body. “Charlie!” you yell, but he doesn’t even look up. Sam comes up to you and tells you they’re thinking about taking him to the hospital. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Thanks, Sam.” You rush over to the bench where a doctor is taking care of Charlie’s wounds. “Charlie,” you whisper when you reach him. Another one of his teammates makes room for you to sit, which you do with a thankful smile towards them. “Is he gonna be okay?” you ask the doctor. “We’re gonna take him to the hospital for some check-ups, mainly to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. But other than that, he’s fine.” You exhale slowly, then turn to Charlie again, grabbing his cold, bloody hand. “Hey, what happened?” you ask softly. He relaxes again upon hearing your melodic voice filled to the brim with worry. “Char, talk to me…” He looks up at you now. His right eye is punched shut and turning blue, his lip cut open and blood running from his nose. “He was saying things about you, Y/N. I couldn’t not do anything. He just made me so fucking angry,” he growls, tearing his eyes away from you again. You place your other hand onto the one you’re holding, trying your hardest to warm it up a little and to comfort him. He was defending you from God-knows-what awful things that number 12 was saying about you. He defended you in your absence. And looked so hot while doing it. “Alright, let’s go, Gillespie,” the coach says and hands him his shoes. You let go of his hand, so he can exchange his skates for his shoes, and look up at the coach. “What hospital are you taking him to?” you ask him. “Horizon’s,” the older man replies, and then helps Charlie up his feet since his leg has been brutally attacked by the number 12 too. “Come on,” he mutters. You get up too, and watch as Charlie limps by his coach's side. You turn and rush to Andrea again, only then realizing there were tears running down your face. She wipes them away with her thumbs, and looks into your eyes intensely. “Go! You can take my car.” She hands you her keys, kisses you on the cheek, and lets you go. You run to Andrea’s car and drive a little past the speed limit to get to the hospital as fast as possible. You know what you’re doing isn’t very safe, but you need to get to Charlie. You need to see him and make sure he’s okay. “I’m looking for Charlie Gillespie, he’s been brought in a little while ago?” you breathlessly ask the woman behind the front desk. You’re still panting from running from the car to the building. Your heart is going ten miles an hour, but it’s been doing that since the moment the fight broke out. “He’s gonna be in room 403, they’re still doing some tests, but you can wait for him there. It’s up to the fourth floor, you can take the elevator down the hall, there.” You nod at the woman, offering her the most thankful smile you can muster before making your way to the fourth floor. Your feet are getting sore from all the running, but you try your hardest to ignore it. There’s no stopping now. You have to be at Charlie’s side. Room 403 is empty, except for a wardrobe, a nightstand and a single armchair. He’s not here yet. You take a seat on the armchair for a few seconds, but then get back up and start pacing the room. Your nerves don’t allow you to sit still. You comb your fingers through your hair, muttering curses to the hospital staff to hurry their stupid tests. Something must be wrong with Charlie. There’s no other reason why they’d take so long. Not that you have a lot of experiences with hospitals except for maybe seeing a relative die in one, but never ever something like this. “Hey, Y/N, right?” a voice makes you snap out of your train of thoughts. It’s Charlie’s coach, carrying some of Charlie’s clothes in his hands. “Uhm, yeah, hi.” He offers you a smile as he walks in and places the clothes on the armchair. “They’re finished with the tests, he’s gonna be here in a few,” he informs you. “I’m gonna get something from the cafeteria, do you want anything?” You jam your nervous hands into the pockets of your jeans. “Oh, no, thank you,” you say and shoot him a stiff smile. He nods curtly before moving out of the room and leaving you alone again. This time, though, it doesn’t last too long. Within a minute, two nurses wheel him into the room on a hospital bed. You quickly move out of the way. He looks so fragile and broken on that hospital bed with all his wounds and bruises, and his eyes drooping from tiredness. “There you go, mister Gillespie,” the young man says as he puts the brakes on the bed, to make sure he doesn’t roll away again. “Ring if you need anything.” The other turns to you and says, “All tests went well. He has a slight concussion and some broken ribs, but he’ll be fine. Just make sure not to talk too loudly because that’ll give him a headache.” “Okay, thanks,” you give the two nurses a smile and let them walk out before you move to Charlie’s bedside. He looks at you from underneath his lashes, noticing how nervous you are, and reaches for your hand. “Hey,” he croaks out. “How are you feeling?” you ask. Your voice croaky from the tears you’re holding in. “I’m okay,” he answers, “Please, tell me that asshole looks worse than me.” He chuckles, then whinces at the pain his laughter causes to his ribs. “I’ve got no clue. I didn’t really look at that dude, I was too worried about you.” He smiles at you tenderly and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “Charlie, I--” you start, but cut yourself off, not knowing how to say what you want to say. “Hey, come here,” he scoots over clumsily, giving you some space on the bed. You debate the option, but after looking into his pleading eyes -- or pleading eye since one is pretty much just punched shut -- you get on the bed, one leg dangling off. “What was he saying about me that made you so mad?” you ask, not at all what you wanted to, but you’re going with it for now. “He called you a fucking creep and a stalker because he somehow found out you draw the people you see?” Your heart skips a beat. He defended you for the one thing you were bullied about in high school. “I just… I know how much you hated that when it happened to you in high school, and because, you know, I’m in love with you and I don’t ever want you to feel that way again…” You smile a little at his second reason whilst butterflies well up in your stomach. “Charlie…” you start, making him turn his head at you. “Remember when I asked you for some time?” He nods his head slowly and carefully. “That was yesterday, so yes, I remember. I only have a slight concussion, babe.” You grab his hand in yours, rubbing circles on the back of his hand as you bite your lip nervously. “I don’t think I need any more time…” you carefully look up at him to see his surprised, and hopeful reaction. His eyes are sparkling again. Much like the stars you were watching last night. “So, does that mean I can finally kiss you?” he tries. One corner of his mouth curls up, and when you nod, the other follows. “Fucking finally!” he exclaims before gingerly grabbing your face with the hand you’re not holding and bringing you closer to him to press his lips to yours in a long-awaited, passionate kiss. One that ends too quickly with a hiss from him. “That hurts doesn’t it?” you ask worriedly. “Only the normal amount,” he shrugs and kisses you again before you can say anything else. “The normal amount is no pain, babe,” you mumble against his lips. Charlie doesn’t listen though, and instead, deepens the kiss even more. He’s been waiting for this to happen for weeks. Weeks of constant flirting and taking you on stargazing dates or coffee dates or pointing at you whenever he made a goal. Weeks of pining for the most beautiful artist he’s ever met in his life. And now, he’s finally kissing you. Finally.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #jatp fic #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie au #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie x reader #artist!reader #luke patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #jatp fandom #fantoms

361 notes · View notes