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candylix · 1 day

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great minds think alike | bang chan

A sequel to blow my mind, read that one first! Pairing • Chan x GN!Reader Summary • After failing your test, you decide to go to the library to study. But when you get there, you see Chan. He wasn't the reason you failed, but he definitely didn't help. You said you weren't going to read his mind again, but after the first incident, he hasn't left your thoughts. It couldn't hurt to see what he's thinking about this time, right? Genre • college au, fluff, smut WC • 2.6k Content • sequel to blow my mind, no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina and breasts, mind reading, dirty thoughts about: asking you out 🥰, public sex, groping, thigh grinding, clit stimulation. Chan has an exhibitionism kink. Indented paragraphs indicate what's happening in his mind and not real life.

You really needed to bring your grade up. Normally you do alright, but that score was going to plummet your GPA. You never expected cheating to backfire so hard... but how could you possibly predict that the person you were mind reading would be thinking about sex the whole time?

This time, you'll be prepared the right way. You carry your textbooks and notes to the school library, and you're going to buckle down and study.

You enter the library with your foolproof plan in mind. You even set your timer for an hour, so you know when to take a break after all your hard work. But you freeze when you get to the tables and see a certain man already there.

Chan is studying too. You can feel your heartbeat thumping in your chest. After the test, you caught yourself thinking about him all the time. When you saw him, you felt butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to be around him, but you felt too anxious to say hi.

Safe to say, you've formed a little crush on him. It was embarrassing to admit to yourself, because you know how it happened. You read his mind, saw him fuck you on the desk, and now you want to hold his hand and kiss him.

Before you can even think rationally, you find yourself walking over to his table.

"Hey, mind if I study here?" you ask, mentally punching yourself for breaking the plan this easily.

He looks up, startled by the sudden intrusion, but his shock fades into a smile when he sees you.

"Go ahead," he responds. You pull out the seat across from him and put your stuff in front of you, as if you'll actually be able to get any studying done.

"Did you see your test score yet?" he asks.

"Yeah... let's just say there's a reason I came here to study."

"I didn't do too well either. Not bad, but not good."

"What happened?" you ask. You know what happened, but you want to see what he has to say.

"I, uh," he starts, and you see his cheeks start to flush. "I got a bit distracted."

'A bit distracted' is the understatement of the century.

"I hope I don't distract you, then."

He laughs nervously at your comment.

"Well, um, I'll get back to studying then," he says, and hides his face behind his laptop.

You open your textbook and think about studying, but you know you wont be able to resist peering into his mind. With the way he reacted, you know he's going to think about something interesting.

While pretending to read the book, you focus on him, and his thoughts gradually fill your head.

'Ok, Chan, focus. You can do this. Just... read your notes... focus... it would be rude to leave, right? I'm not gonna be able to focus like this.'

There was a small part of you that thought he didn't actually have feelings for you, and that he was just a pervert. But from the way he's struggling to study because you sat at his table, you can tell he really does like you.

'Do you want to go for coffee after this? No, that's stupid, it's too late to get coffee. What about... Wanna go see a movie sometime? That's stupid too. Ugh. How do you ask someone out without being cringy? Maybe I should buy some flowers? No, I'd have to carry them around all day like an idiot. This is too hard. I should just jump into a volcano. That would be easier... But this is such a good chance. I have to say something before I miss another perfect opportunity...'

His thoughts are racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what he's going to say to ask you out. He said something about missing another opportunity... how long has this been on his mind? You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you think of every time you talked, wondering when he was thinking of asking you out. There have been a few times where he looked like he was going to say something, but just kept quiet. Was that him chickening out? Maybe you should put him out of his misery and ask him to dinner.

You tune back into his mind, just in time for him to imagine a scenario involving you.

He's sitting in the library across from you, exactly how you are now, but he's wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. "Hey babe, why don't you stop what you're doing and take a ride with me tonight. I'll make it worth your while." He winks, and a motorcycle comes crashing through the wall to stand next to him. He takes a seat on it, and you run up to get on behind him. He revs the engine a few times to look cool. You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his six pack through his shirt. Then he rides the motorcycle out of the hole in the wall and into the sunset.

You can't stop a chuckle from escaping your lips.

"What are you laughing at?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"Um, nothing. Just remembered something funny my friend said earlier," you lie.

You both go back to 'studying'. That was a close call. Not that he would ever guess what you're doing, but you did want to see where that fantasy was heading. You don't have to wait long before another one starts again.

You're both sitting in the library. He clears his throat, and you look up at him. "Sorry to interrupt, but... would you want to... maybe... go out with me?" he asks. "No." You say flatly. Then you take your textbook and smack him across the face, before leaving the room. 'Chan, that would never happen,' he thinks to himself. The daydream resets, and you're back where you were before, sitting across the table from him as if that never happened. He suddenly stands up, grabbing your attention, and walks over to your side of the table. He sits on your textbook, forcing you to look up at him. "We're done studying for today. I'm taking you out for dinner." "But-" "No buts. I won't take no for an answer." "I guess I have no choice then," you say, giggling. He fixates on your smile, they way you look at him, your lips... and everything freezes.

Chan buries his face in his hands. He wanted to be a cool, suave ladies man, but even in his imagination he loses his composure when you smile at him.

It's cute to see him like this, reminding you of when you read his mind during the test. The first thing he did was imagine holding your hand. It's possible that his feelings have gotten stronger since then, because now he's struggling just to ask you out in his romantic fantasies.

He's still sitting on the table in front of you, and he takes your hand, pulling you up to your feet. His other hand cups your cheek, and guides your face down to him. Your lips press into his, and you melt into the kiss. He breaks the kiss, and looks into your eyes. "Let's take a rain check on dinner," he says, and his hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "What are you-" you start, but he lifts your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the side. He unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere as well, and he drinks in the sight of you. "Chan, we're in public. Someone might see us." "Good, let them. I want everyone to know these," he says, grabbing your tits, "are mine." With one hand on each breast, he massages them, and kisses you again. His thumb grazes over your nipples, and you moan into the kiss. You can feel him smile, and he pulls at your nipples while he gropes you. His hands travel down your stomach and to your waist. He's quick to unbutton your pants and pull them down. He massages your ass over your underwear, and his thigh parts your legs to rest itself under your cunt. You gasp, and he slips his tongue in, deepening the kiss. You roll your hips, rubbing your pussy on his muscular thigh. He grabs your waist to help guide you on him, and you continue grinding on his leg as the feeling in your pit starts to build. "Not so shy anymore, huh?" he teases. "You want everyone to see you humping my leg." You roll your hips against him faster, trying to feel as much as you can between multiple layers of fabric. He watches your breasts bounce as you buck against him, and he sits there mesmerized at how good you look when you're fucking yourself on him.

Your alarm goes off. You both jump in your seats. His daydream instantly vanishes as the noise brings you both back to reality. You scramble to shut it off.

"Sorry, I forgot I set that alarm." "Oh... Does that mean you're done?" he asks. He looks at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

'Shit. I was too busy being horny that I completely forgot to ask. Ugh.'

You decide that if you want to go out with him, you're going to have to ask him yourself. "Actually, I have something I wanted to ask you," you say, and he instantly perks up. Your feel your heart beating, and you hesitate for a moment. You know he'll say yes, but you still feel nervous all of a sudden. Asking someone out apparently doesn't get easier even if you have nothing to fear. Finally, you make yourself say the words.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" He pauses, and starts overthinking about what you could possibly mean. "Um... like you want to hang out? Like a friendly 'go out'?" "More like a date 'go out'."

"Oh... OH. Yes!" He coughs, trying to sound nonchalant. "Yeah, let's go out sometime."

He can't hold back the grin that forms on his face. "Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Really?" you say, feigning ignorance, "That's crazy. I didn't know you were interested in me."

"Yeah... I've liked you for a while," he says shyly, and his cheeks turn pink. God he's cute.

"In that case," you start, walking around to his side of the table and grabbing his hand, "there's something I want to do." You pull him up to his feet, and lead him to the bookshelves. You walk into an empty aisle near the back. "I really want to kiss you." His face turns bright red, and you can hear the thumping of his heartbeat. "O-ok," he stutters. He's completely different from the Casanova in his daydreams, but the juxtaposition is very endearing.

You cup his face and lean in for a kiss, and he kisses back softly. He doesn't know where to put his hands at first, but he rests them on your waist. Gently, you push him back against the bookshelves and press your body into him. He melts into the kiss, and his confidence grows enough to lower his hands to your ass.

For the first time, his thoughts are completely silent.

You're the first to break the kiss. "Do you want to go a bit further?" you ask. "Further...?" he asks, and when your hands leave his face to travel down to his hips, his eyes go wide. "What if someone walks in on us?"

"Then they'll know I'm all yours," you whisper. With the way you're pressed up against him, you can feel his erection forming. If his daydreams didn't convince you of his exhibitionism kink, this sure did.

He nods his head, and you lean back in for another kiss. You palm his crotch, and as you slowly stroke his bulge, you feel him harden under your touch. He grabs your hand, stopping it in its track. "What's wrong?" you ask. "Sorry, I just..." he hesitates for a moment, but continues, "I want to be the one touching you." You remember everything he's fantasized. That is what he likes. "Go ahead," you say. He turns you around so that your back is on his chest, and he brings his hand between your legs. He kisses your neck while he rubs you, and you lean your head back into him. His hand moves into your pants, and he feels the wet spot in your underwear. He moves it aside, and his fingers circle your clit. When he finds a spot that makes you twitch, he presses into it, rubbing it harder and faster until your body rocks into his hand. His other hand snakes under your shirt to grope your breast, and he plays with your nipple. He rubs it and pulls at it, earning a moan from you. The fingers on your clit stroke you faster, and you can hear how wet you are as he moves in and out of your folds. The sensations from your breast and your core has you bucking wildly on him, and your ass presses against his dick. He buries his face into your shoulder, dampening the moan he lets out. He grinds into you from behind, with no rhythm in his movements.

You can feel your orgasm building, and you can't control how you hump Chan's hand while he continues his brutal pace against your cunt. He works his fingers, caressing your folds and rubbing a sensitive spot. You writhe under his touch, and you know you're close. You feel the dam burst, and he continues to rub circles around your clit as you buck into his hand, riding out your high. His hand continues to hold your pussy as he humps your ass, feeling his own orgasm building. He moans, and his pace slows down as he finishes on you. You're both breathing heavily, and he takes his hand out of your pants.

You both lower yourselves to the ground in exhaustion, and you turn to face him. He leans back against the bookshelf. "You don't know how much I wanted to do that," he finally says, and you have to stop yourself from saying yes, you did know.

"Me too," you admit.

As much fun as it was peeping into his thoughts, the real thing felt way better.

"Do you... want to make plans for our date?" he asks. You completely forgot about that in the heat of the moment. "Maybe we should get cleaned up before we think about next time." "Oh, right. Do you want to come to my dorm to shower?" he asks, before adding "Just to get cleaned up! I didn't mean- unless you want to-"

"Yes," you say, answering his question before he overthinks and uninvites you. "I don't want to have to go home like this."

"Yeah, um, alright. Come with me."

You go back to the table to get your stuff, which thankfully is still there, and he leads you to his dorm.

You didn't end up studying, but you did end up with a boyfriend, and that's more important anyways.

Although he would argue otherwise.

EPILOGUE:

You're chilling in Chan's room while you wait for your final grades to show up on the school website. You check your phone, it's finally the time they said it would be posted. You both open the website.

"Yes!" he yells, "I got a 93%!"

You wait for the page to load, and when you see your mark, you breathe a sigh of relief.

You barely passed, with 1% over the failing grade, but a pass is a pass nonetheless. Your GPA fell significantly after you started dating Chan, but it worked out in the end.

He looks at your score.

'Wow, what a terrible grade.'

He looks back at you.

"Hey, you passed! Great job!" he says, and gives you a high five.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut

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6ix9inewiturmom · 3 days

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Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

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thealternateuniverse · 3 days

Text

At who's the best at

Paige Bueckers x Fem reader

Warnings: Slowburn (?), curses, sexual inunendos

A/N: I couldn't think of a title 😭 I am so sorry. Other characters are from my imagination, they are not related to NCAA at all. Had to get this ideas out of my head.

Y/N was panting, hands on her knees after doing laps across the court. Today is hell, Geno is not taking it easy on them, the training is tougher compared to the previous months as their team is advancing to Elite 8. She thanked the cardio gods for being on her favor today or she will pass out. Taking one last deep breath, she put her both hands on her waist and walked towards the three point shot perimeter. Qadence pats her on the back while she is dribbling for a three point shot.

"Take it easy babe." She nodded at Qadence before shooting the ball. Another miss.

"Miller!" Geno motioned to come to him. Y/N sighed and jog towards her coach's direction.

"Kid, do you see this?" Geno handed her his clipboaard with her stats on it.

"This is from the last game against Duke."

Y/N scanned her stats, and it is much better progress compared to their match against Sycaruse and Jackson State.

"Yeah and it will get more better if you can hoop today. What the hell is wrong Miller? Shade and Edwards blocked you three times today. You don't get blocked thrice based on these stats. What's wrong kid?"

Y/N didn't respond and remain silent. It shows in the practice that she is preoccupied today.

"Nothing Geno, it's just......" she trailed off thinking of what she should say.

"I'll do better. I'll make sure to clear my mind before practice so I can focus." Y/N continued, bowing her head slightly. She had to prove to UConn women's basketball team that they will not regret accepting her back when she transferred here during her 2nd year. But Geno doesn't seem to be convinced of her answer.

"Alright. I am expecting much better results in our next practice. We can't make excuses once USC had our asses in our match. Go take a swim or a run in your neighborhood or whatever later, you're not yourself today and I don't want to see you like a vegetable during practice."

Y/N nodded and Geno gave her an encouraging pat on the back before letting her go back to practice. It made her feel a little better but her day is still shitty.

----

Y/N's phone keeps vibrating, this is the umpteenth time her parents called her today. She doesn't want to answer it, it will be divorce probably. It already threw her game off today and she doesn't want to ruin her day more by answering it.

Mum:

talk to me hun, please

Hun, we are sorry, I know this will be hard for you.

Do you hate us?

I'm sorry, love. It's not working anymore between me and your dad.

Dad:

Peanut, please answer your phone.

I'm sorry.

We wanted to tell you for a long time.

---

Y/N turned off her phone. With a deep sigh, she ate her tacos. She's got a lot on her plate now, her studies, her upcoming match, and now her parents divorce. She wanted to take a break.

"Boo, you okay? You're preocuppied the whole day." KK finally asked. Her teammates have been giving each other knowing looks and tiptoeing around her all day. They are not used to her being silent. She went out with them tonight hoping it will take off some things in her mind.

"I'm fine girl. Just woke up on the wrong side of the bad today." She smiled at KK. She's not ready to talk yet not until she's able to come to terms with her family.

"You suck, Miller. Paige is getting full of herself today and you're too preoccupied to humble her."

Paige almost choked on her shirley temple, she took a napkin and wiped her mouth.

"Me? Full of myself? Come on Aubs." Paige scoffs.

"Miller just realized today I don't need humbling, I'm actually good." Paige raised her eyebrows playfully followed by their teammates violent reactions.

Y/N grinned. She had to thank Paige for diverting their teammates from pressing on what's going on with her. The subject of being the best shooter between her or Paige became a daily banter. Paige was not unwelcoming when Y/N transferred in UConn but her competitive ass made sure to show why she was here first instead of Y/N. Y/N admits that Paige is actually better than her and the best all rounder, her transferring here seemed challenged the latter on who's best at what. She doesn't know why Paige thinks she has competition when she is actually the best. She likes to get on Paiges nerves so she gets along with Paige's imaginary contest.

"Get outta here Bueckers, I can do what you did earlier even with a hangover" Y/N said, giving Paige a sheepish grin. Paige made 43 consecutive 3 point shots, it got into her head today without Y/N beating it. It always annoy Paige when Y/N's record is close or beat hers.

"Oi, enough you two." Azzi stopped them before it could start to bickering. Y/N raised both her hands in surrender. She took a sip of her margaritas while still giving Paige a cocky grin. Now the latter looks annoyed.

They continued having fun, dancing and drinking. Y/N didn't move that much from her seat, she's tired and the margarita must've probabaly hit already.

"I'm just gonna go to the restroom." She excused herself. Feeling dizzy Y/n groaned, guess she will have that hangover tomorrow.

She decided to turn on her phone and was still bombarded with texts from her parents. Her mum's name popped on the screen and decided to answer it finally.

"Honey, I'm glad you answered. I've been calling all day." Her mom sounded worried on the other line.

"Sorry mum. Busy."

Her mother sighed. Y/N doesn't exactly know what to say, she is still processing that her parents will have a divorce. Out of 23 damn years, they just decided now that they don't need each other?

"Honey I.... I am so sorry. If you could come home soon we could have a talk, with your dad and I."

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I am not going home, mom. California is 2000 miles away, I have an upcoming game in 2 weeks, and I am busy for my finals. What's the point? Your going to sell the house anyway now that you are getting divorce."

She didn't mean to sound mad over the phone, but she is really upset.

"I will call you when I am ready to talk to you both. If you two want a divorce, fine, but give me time to process that my parents don't need each other anymore after 23 damn years."

She didn't wait for her mother's response and hang up.

------

Paige went back to their booth joined by a tipsy Nika after their teammates are gone to god knows where. Dancing or probably making out with someone.

"Hey P, have fun! You're awfully behave tonight. Loosen up, it's weekend tomorrow."

Nika nudged her and throw an arm over her shoulder.

"I'm good, Ma. I don't want hangover tomorrow. Besides, someone has to stay sober to make sure you all get home safely."

Nika scoffed, rolling her eyes at her teammate. It's their last free night before Geno will give them total hell in preparation against their match with USC.

"You're boring me P. I'll go join the others and have fun being miserable here. Have you se---" Nika wasn't able to finish her sentence when a commotion started in the middle of the bar. Recognizing the 6 foot tall asses of their teammates in the scuffle, the two ran towards their direction.

"What in the fuck happened?" Nika felt her slight tipsiness gone, helping KK reach Ayanna who's ready to take a swing to an athlete from Yale. The bouncers are trying to separate them before it ends up to a total brawl. Paige scanned where the others are and her eyes landed on Y/N, her sleeves are up, Aubrey blocking her from punching another Yale athlete.

"You don't talk shit here, dawg. Go back to New Haven and fuck your slutty girlfriend!"

Paige grabbed Y/N by the waist and dragged her out of the scene. For someone who is always cool and at her composure, she was surprised that Miller can trash talk.

"Calm down, Miller. You don't get to injure that million dollar hands." With Azzi trailing behind, she brought Y/N outside and pinned her on the wall to calm her down. She looks disheveled, some of her locks escaped from her ponytail, her face is red, her sleeves are uneven and she is reeking of alcohol. What a total mess.

"What in the world was that Y/N, I know you guys don't start fights but you all are better than this. Gosh, how many drinks did you have? You are reeking of alcohol!" Azzi said frustrated.

Y/N scoffs, wiping some sweat on her forehead. Paige couldn't agree more with Azzi. They don't start fights, Y/N never looses her cool even during their banters at who is best, intense matches and bad calls from ref. Paige wonders what made her so worked up that she almost punch someone today.

"Nah, I was cool Az. I took shots from everyone, sorry I lost count."

The 2 of them grimaced. They check Y/N if she had any injuries, Geno will kill them if they are scathed and once he hears about this. Azzi wonders as to why Yale women's basketball are in Storrs. That's like an hour drive just for a night's drink.

"God you are drunk and you can take a fight." Paige said amused. She never saw Y/N got drunk because she never was.

"Oh yeah Bueckers, wanna try? Let's take it here outside." Y/N stood straight, her face annoyed.

Well that was hot. Paige thought. She raised her hands in surrender before Y/N gets totally pissed. Y/N haven't landed a punch but it might be on Paige if she triggers the latter. Azzi gave her a scolding look.

"Chill, Ma. T'was a compliment."

Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall again. She's starting to feel hazy.

"What did they do anyway?" Azzi asked.

"Douchebag's girlfriend was offering me a drink, I declined. She thought I want to fuck her slutty girlfriend and proceeds to call us defects, the others heard it, we didn't mind until she pushed Aaliyah."

Paige clenched her jaw and Azzi rubs her temple. Half of the team suffered injury in the past year. Paige wished she hadn't grabbed Y/N and let her land her fist first before fleeing from the scene, it was uncalled for. Drunken Miller surprised them tonight, they didn't know that her mouth can talk.

"That's it, we are all getting home. I'm gonna go get the others." Azzi left them outside.

"Yeah Azzi and tell that cunt to fuck her girlfriend properly."

Paige shook her head. Y/N is definitely the highlight of tonight's event.

"What got you so worked up today, Miller? You almost took it out on someone."

KK was right, Y/N was preoccupied. She didn't have any baskets during practice. Paige had 29 3 points in a row today, usually Y/N comes close or even beat her. It's unusual for someone who plays ball since 5th grade, she just did laps all day.

Y/N groans. "I'll talk about it tomorrow when I'm sober. can you take me home please? Paige."

Paige, licked her lips and pretends to think about it. She's gonna do it anyway.

"I never thought you were into girls." Paige blurted out. She mentally slapped herself right after. Her intrusive thoughts won.

"You guys never asked. I never said I was into boys either. So annoying."

For some reason, Paige couldn't keep her smile off. She was grinning like and idiot. Y/N noticed and she rolled her eyes, Paige looks stupid.

"You look like an idiot Bueckers."

"Maybe I am."

She twirls her car keys and they started to walk where she parked her car. She's behind Y/N who's trying to keep a straight-face and herself from stumbling.

Azzi and KK following them, KK still heated from the commotion earlier and keeps trash talking. Azzi is trying to cover her mouth for being loud. KK, Azzi, Nika and Y/N rode with Paige. The others were at Aaliyah's car since they live together in the same apartment. Paige shook her head, they are all dead on Monday.

-------

Y/N woke up, her head pounding and throat dry. She groaned when she tried to get up. She knew immediately it was bad last night to have a hangover like this, she rarely gets drunk and when she does, she has it bad. She jolted up when realizes that this is not her room. The bed sheet is purple, there are Miami Heat posters everywhere and the trophies are too many to be hers. Not until she saw the familiar number 5 jersey hanging on the wall.

"Fuck, what did I do last night." She whispered to herself. This must be Paige's room. She tries recalling the events of last night and vaguely remembers the Yale athlete talking shit. She almost got involved in a brawl.

Y/N got up from bed only to realize that she is wearing Paige's clothes, it's one of her old team USA shirts, nothing else and her boxers. It's already 2 in the afternoon, she could hear the ruckus outside Paige's room and KK's rambunctious laugh.

She opened the door and was greeted by the chaos of her teammates.

Y/N winced when the pounding of her head hits again. She sat down on one of the bean bags and leaned her head back trying to ease the headache. In an instant, Paige handed her a bottle of water and a tylenol. She gave Paige what is this for ? look.

"Your hangover, duh."

"Ya'll our sleeping beauty is awake." KK sat beside her but she was waiving where Ice was. Ice was doing live on the corner, and she didn't realize that where she is is being captured. Gosh she looks horrible.

"Guys, they wanna know something. You remember we did a tiktok of who among in the team you don't want your kid to date..... They want the opposite."

Qadence was quick to shout "Aaliyah" followed by KK's "Y/N"

"Yeah, I'll go with Y/N too." Ice agreed

"Y/N will throw hands, I'll bet on her too." Aubrey added.

" 'bout you, Paige?"

The team groaned when Paige showed her "rizz hands."

"Will we go further? I'll let my kid date myself." The team erupted in disagreement. Nika throws a pillow towards Paige's direction. "Dream on Bueckers!" Y/N shakes her head too.

Paige is a gender bender, the amount of fans she has be it a boy or a girl is insane. She may look like a fuck-boy type but she'll be a good girlfriend, the question though is, can they take her superstar life?

"Y/N, they wanted to know who you want your kid to date." Ice turned towards her. Y/N straightened her back a little, enough only to face Ice.

"No one, you guys loves ball more than relationships." Everyone burst in laughter.

"You heard our homie? We're not playboys/playgirls, basketball is life." Ice said in live while giving a thumbs up.

"Nawww! she's just playing safe!" KK shouted.

" Y/N is so fine, I think I'll start watching live " Ice reading through comments.

Y/N suddenly felt conscious. She moved where the camera can't see her so she can deal with what's left of her hangover.

" Does Y/N have a boyfriend or what? Saw her in Stanford before and what the hell is she doing on the court, go model in a runway or something--- Yo! Someone said you should model Y/N!" KK is reading along with Ice now.

Y/N blushed on the compliment(?). She couldn't think of herself as someone who walks on a runway or pose for a magazine aside from playing ball. She's no Cameron Brink who could pass that criteria.

"Maaaaan, they are all whipped to our girly pop. We've been gatekeeping our secret weapon."

Some of her teammates joined KK and Ice in reading the comments.

"Y/N c'mere they want to see you."

Y/N doesn't want to be rude by not saying even a "hi" but she really feels shit right now. She look around the room and her eyes landed on Paige, begging for help.

"Y'all sorry but Miller is not feeling well, you'll get to see her in Gampel soon. Be sure to be there." Paige shouted while throwing an arm around Y/N's shoulder. They are both far from the camera, Y/N waived though from where they are.

"Thank God." Y/N muttered and leaned on Paige's shoulder and she felt her stiffened.

Ice wrapped up her live leaving disappointed viewers to only see a glimpse of Y/N. All of them went back to their chaotic self.

--------

A/N: Please stay tuned for the next part. I think I have a hangover too 🤮. Wrote this when we were at the bar. Feedbacks and suggestions are open.

ALSO..... DOES ANYONE KNOWS WHO DOES THE GIRLS HAIRS DURING THEIR GAMES? DO THEY HAVE A HAIRSTYLIST OR WHAT?? PLEASE HELP A GIRL OUT. 😌

#paige buckets #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #kk arnold #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #stanford cardinal #ncaa women’s basketball #aubrey griffin #aaliyah edwards #ice brady

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melbatron5000 · 3 days

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The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies.

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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theminecraftbee · 2 days

Text

Wels hums as he walks through the shopping district. He doesn't need much, but with the recent release of Overlord, he wants to hear if any of the establishments are playing it. He doesn't expect it somewhere like the Permit Office--Grian's spent too much time and money getting a song that was as perfectly annoying to be put on hold to as possible--and if it is playing in the log shop, he will laugh. But music tends to spread around Hermitcraft fast, and sure, this isn't about anything specific, but who's gonna miss a good opportunity to dunk on Doc?

He hears the backing beats from a nearby shop and hums along with them, walking down the path--

--then turns a corner and leaps back.

"You," Wels hisses.

Hello. Awfully rude of you not to include me, you know, says the specter.

"No, there's absolutely no reason for you to be here. None at all!" Wels says, throwing his hands up. "The last time I saw you was--gosh, I don't even know. Season Seven?"

Yes, yes, and the only time you saw me, you aren't lying to yourself at all, the specter says agreeably. Come on. We both know I was haunting you for what little of Season Eight you bothered to be around for.

"If you were on Eight then you super shouldn't be here," Welsknight says. He shakes his head and looks up at the shop playing his song. Joel's? Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd have a reason to make fun of Doc. Welsknight removes his shaking hand from his sword hilt again and starts walking.

On account of you leaving everyone there to die, yes, we're both aware, the specter says.

"Oh, screw you, you wouldn't have done any different, get new material," Wels says. "Also, you aren't real? You're like, all of my insecurities or whatever. You don't even have a real body right now, no one's made you one."

The specter shrugs. I mean, if I'm the worst parts of yourself, really, you're the one who needs better material. Abandoning all your friends to die and then abandoning them altogether--it's a wonder they let you stick around!

Wels rolls his eyes and forces his hand to stay out of his inventory. Wouldn't do to give away that still even gets him. He peaks at another shop. They're playing the song too, but it's ever-so-slightly out of sync, which is kind of terrible. As he does, Cleo waves at him. Their eyes sort of stutter right past Helsknight, which definitively tells him exactly how much body the specter even has to possess right now.

"I'm actually having a great time with my friends this season, so like, the whole 'abandonment' song and dance isn't going to work this time. Started the season with them and everything; hard to even go for 'they'll forget me at the first opportunity' or whatever."

The thing is, the more Wels says it, the more its true. None of the insecurities and pain points that the specter is echoing back at him are what he was actually thinking about. He's been like... fine? Sure, he's definitely still got repressed negative traits, but nothing like "Xisuma's evil twin brother playing around with his head" or "the moon crashing and killing everyone" or "too depressed and burnt out to get out of bed" or "sort of considering abandoning everyone because that's like, his thing" these days. None of the things that should bring the specter that had haunted him since Beef's cloning machine back to him without a body. But Wels is careful about clones outside of something like Vault Hunters, where they're explicitly under his control. He, like, doesn't even armor stand much. So that can't be this either; Helsknight clearly doesn't have a body to be messing with Wels yet!

...Helsknight doesn't even have a body or an actual insecurity to be poking at Wels with yet.

He stops. He puts his hands in his pockets, and turns around to face Helsknight. He is no longer shaking at all.

"Dude, why are you even here?" Wels asks.

I told you, it was rude to leave me out, Helsknight says.

"What," Wels says.

The final bars of Overlord play over the speakers. Welsknight hums and nods before it suddenly clicks.

"What," Wels says again.

Honestly, you're not normally this much of a moron. It was rude to leave me out. Rapping is also my thing.

"Dude," Wels says.

I could totally destroy Docm77 any day. I would obliterate the fool you call a "friend" in ways you cannot comprehend. You invoke a sacrificial goat? I know ways he'd never recover, gods he'd never be able to retrieve himself from. It would be laughable. And you left me out.

Wels stares at the demon from his nightmares.

"You're mad at me because you didn't get to be in my diss track," Wels says.

You let me be in the last one, Helsknight says.

"Dude," Wels says. "Dude, that's pathetic."

Helsknight sniffs. I'm your worst qualities. What does that say about you.

"I didn't even write this for this season," Wels says.

That makes it worse, Helsknight says.

"I don't even know where to start? For one--no, I still don't even know where to start," Wels says. "This is like, the lamest reason you could possibly have to come haunt me. Go away, I'm basking in my like, top 3 charting hit on the Hermitcraft server."

Top three? Pathetic. There are only three songs. You'd be the top song if you'd simply included my power, Helsknight says.

"I can't beat the streaming minutes Grian puts on that hold--look, uh, dude. You're, uh, a very scary representation of my fears and worst qualities and all. Appreciate that. Next time I need to do a diss track, I don't know, maybe I'll invite you? First you've got to stop appearing solely to make my life worse, though. Bring me a cookie or something. I don't know, whatever demons do."

I'm not a demon, I'm a Shadow. We're different, Helsknight says. ...I'll think about it.

When Wels turns the next corner, Helsknight has vanished again. Wels stops in the middle of the street, looks around, confirms the specter has vanished, and then bursts out laughing.

"What the Hels," he says, somehow feeling lighter and more bemused than before. That's a new feeling with his doppleganger. Then, he goes to visit Big Wood. While Doc definitely isn't playing the song of his own accord, Wels figures that Beef just might, and given the day he's having, that would feel like a kind of irony Wels isn't sure how to describe. Besides, he wants to see if Doc will notice if Wels sets the song on loop or something. What can he say--the man's reactions to being taunted are spectacular, and Wels loves seeing them. Call it a bad quality of his or something.

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #a bee fic #hermitfic #unreality #LOOK MAN I HAD TO.#...APPARENTLY.#i put slightly too much thought into what is effectively A Dumb Bit. i mean not the rap. this fic. this fic is the dumb bit.#i mean the rap is a dumb bit too but not the one i put too much thought into. the fic is #YOU KNOW WHAT NEVERMIND THIS JUST CONFUSED THIS FURTHER. anyway that helsknight huh.

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duuhrayliegh · 3 days

Text

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

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mylight-png · 3 days

Text

You know how I know that the anti-Israel hate is deeply rooted in antisemitism, and not just "social justice" or whatever people are calling it right now?

Let me tell you a common situation I encounter:

So, being a college student away from home, I don't have a car here. This means that if I ever need to go anywhere, I need to get an Uber or Lyft or something along those lines.

I always tuck in my Bring Them Home tag, magen david, turn my "am Yisrael chai" pin to the inside of my clothes, etc. I hate doing it, but I have heard of violently antisemitic drivers, and I'd rather not risk it, considering I'm alone in the car with them.

Every time, I call my mom. It makes me safer to have someone on call. And every time, she makes the same two recommendations.

The first is to put in an address of a neighboring house for pickup, because the house I live in has my landlord's car out front, and his car has stickers in Hebrew on it.

The second is, if asked where I'm from, to say Russia. I don't get asked where I'm "really from" unless I'm with my parents usually (they both have strong accents). But it's a warning my mom repeats every time anyway. The choice of Russia isn't random, I was raised fluent and can back up the claim if need be with random knowledge. But I have never been to Russia, except for the airport once to catch a connecting flight to Israel. I was, however, born in Israel, and I've been there multiple times (unfortunately not since 2014 though). So to say I'm from Russia is a lie, and to say I'm from Israel is the truth.

Both are countries at war. Russia, unlike Israel, actually started the war. Unlike Israel, Russia actually does have a history of colonialism, genocide, imperialism, and worse.

So why is it safer for me to lie about being from an aggressor country than to tell the truth about being from a country caught in a war it didn't want?

Antisemitism. Anti-Russian hate crimes globally didn't spike, Russian women haven't been raped as "justice" for Ukraine. Russian businesses weren't commonly vandalized simply for being from Russia. Meanwhile, all of these things were done to Jews as a result of a war Israel did not start.

If this global response to the war wasn't antisemitism it would be equally safe or unsafe for me to give either answer.

But in reality, it's safer for me to lie about being from Russia than to tell the truth about being from Israel.

That's how I know it's antisemitism.

#jumblr #proud israeli #israel solidarity #antisemitism #russia ukraine war #israel hamas war #antizionism is antisemitism #antizionism

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zanarkandskylines · 2 days

Text

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #bakugou headcanons #bakugou drabble #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou #☆.rei writes

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wolfish-trickster · 2 days

Text

You made your choice

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Previous part

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: you asked Gojo who is more important to him, you or his bestfriend. He indirectly chose and now he's experiencing consequences of his own action (probably for the first time in his life).

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @nanao4k

A/N: I recomend listening to this song while reading (was listening to it while coming up with the story, the song and the story aren't exact copies of eachother but the vibe is about the same) and to those who know me THE LINK IS SAFE TO CLICK I DIDN'T LINK IT WITH WHAT YOU THINK I SWEAR. Enjoy the reading 😊

"Hey, can I come over?"

"Dude, you were just here!"

"I know, I know. But I need a shoulder to cry on."

"Damn, that bad? What happened? You and Y/N had a fight or...?"

"Can I just come over?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Geto Suguru has had a lot of weird moments with his best friend, but that phone call certainly was...something. No explanation, no joking around, just straight to the point.

About fifteen minutes later he heard his front door open.

"Satoru, did you learn how to teleport or something? We live an hour away from eachother," Geto joked before he could even turn around and see the state his friend was in. Disheveled hair, dry lips, red eyes. Something terrible must've happened.

"It's Y/N," was all Gojo said before he sat down at the dining table.

"Figured that much," replied Geto and took a seat next to him and waited. He knew Gojo. That man can't shut his mouth to save his own life. He'll spill everything sooner or later.

Gojo let his head fall on top of Geto's and sighed. Geto patted his fluffy white hair and kept on waiting. Good thing was they both sat right across a big window. Geto could count pine cones on the nearby trees while he waited for Gojo to open up.

It didn't take long.

"Y/N left."

"WHAT?!" Geto pushed the white head off of his shoulder and took Gojo by the shoulders. "What happened? What did you do?" He stared him in the eye.

Gojo just blinked. "I don't know! I don't think I did anything wrong," he looked oit the window again. A squirell jumped from one branch to another.

Geto rolled his eyes and turned Gojo's face back to his. "Satoru, people don't just up and leave. You must've done or said something that hurt her feelings. What did I tell you about comunication being-"

"Being the cornerstone of a good relationship, I remember," he put his hands on Geto's cupping his face. "We did talk. And I thought we came to a mutual understanding. Then I offered to cuddle with her and went to shower but once I walked out she was gone. All her things too..."

"Wow," Geto let go of his friend's face, "what a bitch."

"Right?" Gojo agreed and leaned back on his chair so far it was threatening to fall. "I don't understand. She never complained before, never said anything, then all of a sudden she pulls a stunt like that, throws a scene, slips into her selfhating thing again-"

"Wait, she what?" Geto asked confused. He has met you enough times to know you were very cheerful and life-loving person. What was Gojo talking about? Selfhatred?

"She has these moments,"he explained, "thinks she's too fat, then not curvy enough, thinks she's too basic to be with a guy like me, so on. When it happened the first few times i comforted her but even after all those years she still thinks of herself as less than and I'm too damn tired of it. I thought all of those negative thoughts would go away the first time I assured her I love her no matter what," he crossed his arms on his chest and looked out the window again. "I'm starting to feel like she's doing it for attention."

"Listen Satoru, maybe she's just extremely selfconscious and people like her need reassurance like that. Besides if she was really doing that for attention she wouldn't leave withoit a word. She would leave hints for you to find her and come beg her on your knees or something."

Gojo chuckled. "Suguru, you've got to stop watching Shoko's telenovelas."

"I'm a slut for drama."

A phone rang.

In a speed of light Gojo pulled out his phone hoping to see your lovely face. The screen was black.

Geto pulled out his ringing phone and picked up. "Well well, speak of the devil," he smiled.

Gojo couldn't hear what him and Shoko were talking about. He could only take hints from Geto's facial expressions and his occasional answers.

"What do you mean you have to cancel it? Oh. Okay. I understand. And did she tell you what-" his eyes got wide. "But wait, that's not- I didn't- Actually he's right next to me."

Gojo tried to get closer to hear what they were talking about but Geto jumped up and walked across the room.

"Okay. Okay, i'll ask him. No, that's fine. Alright. Take care, both of you. Bye," he hung up. Then slowly turned around to face Gojo now standing opposite him.

"Now you'll tell me exactly what had happened between you two. You said she caused a scene, what was it about?"

His mouth turned into neutral line, just like when you started this whole mess. "She asked me to stop seeing you. Can you believe that? Trust me, if I told her to stop seeing her friends all hell would break lose."

"Isn't that what happened when she asked you?" Geto pointed out the obvious double standard but Gojo wasn't listening.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? She wanted me to spend more time with her. Like, what does she want me to do? Make me and her morph into one being?"

"It is true that you've been spending a lot of time with me," Geto held his chin between his fingers in a thought. "But I don't get one thing. If you being away from her this often was a problem for her then she must've shown signs, not encourage you to come and spend time with me when she was too busy herself."

"About that," Gojo nervously played with his shades. "I might've over-exagarated that."

"Don't tell me..." Geto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She wasn't always busy when I came here."

"Satoru!" He half shouted. "You always told me she was too busy and couldn't come! Why would you lie?"

"Because i felt trapped!" He yelled back. "I felt like I couldn't even breathe. Yes, being around has brought me so much joy but I missed the thrill of being free. Just being with you and Shoko and doing whatever. Now I just feel like I'm chained to something that I kinda want away from but also not," the entire time he spoke he was pacing back and forth. "I just wanted to feel like the old times."

"So in other words you miss the feeling of being single but you also like the benefits relationship gives you," Geto concluded. "I thought you were better than this."

"And I thought you would understand," Gojo turned his anger against his best friend who was calmly standing in the living room. "But wait, I forgot, you have no one," he mocked.

"Damn right I don't. Which makes me even more pissed off when I see how you treat your own relationship! Have you got any idea how much I envied you for having someone waiting for you at home and welcome you after a long day? Or just someone to be there for you in general?"

Gojo got silent. He didn't know. Geto never showed it.

Geto took it as his chance to try speak some sense into Gojo. "Listen, you only feel like this because you've never been in a relationship. Feeling trapped is normal, I think. What's important is that you love her and you're capable of changing to get her back, right?"

Gojo was just looking at him.

"Right?" Geto said a bit more panicked.

"I don't know!" Gojo exclaimed and Geto facepalmed. "I don't know how to choose between her and you."

"Is that what she asked? For you to choose between her and me?"

Gojo shook his head. "No, I think she just wanted me to spend less time with you."

"So she didn't out right prohibit you from hanging out with me, she only asked for you to stay with her more often," Geto was slowly but surely getting the whole picture.

"Something like that," Gojo shrugged.

Geto sighed. "You royally fucked up Gojo Satoru."

"No, really?" sarcasm dripped from his words. "I still think I did nothing wrong. She has no right to aks me to spend less time with you."

"She does actually. She's your girlfriend of what, three years?"

Gojo nodded.

"Three years and yet you place her beneath a best friend. How would you feel like if she had to choose between her best friend and you and she went for the friend?"

Suddenly, Gojo looked like it finally hit him. "I'd feel...terrible," he sat down on the chair. "But... but I didn't tell her I would choose you. Both of you mean so much to me."

"On the same level or a different one? Satoru, understand that the love for a friend and a love for a lover are two separate kinds of love. You not being able to distinguish between them caused you to be in this mess."

Geto walked over to where Gojo sat and towere over him. He put a reassuring hand on his wide back. "Let me ask you this: what do you want right now? To be with her?"

Gojo stayed silent. He didn' know what he wanted. He hated the fact that he can't have both a friend and a lover. Choosing one would mean losing the other in Gojo's eyes. He can't afford that. Not when both of his most treasured people made him so happy.

Geto took his silence as a no. "You know what I think? You didn't want to have her. You just wanted others to see you have her."

His words cut like a knife. Why? Why do his loved ones have to be this cruel? He only looked up from the floor to his best friends almost black eyes. His own baby blues were watery. A lump took place in his throat. With a horror he realised how weak he feels. One half of him already packed her things and walked away, he can't let the other half do the same.

"Do you hate me now?" He whispered, affraid if he will speak any louder he would cry.

Geto took a while. Then shook his head. "No Satoru, just dissapointed."

Gojo nodded and looked back down to the floor.

Few minutes passed. None of them said anything. After Gojo was completely sure he won't fall apart he spoke up. "Do you think I can fix this?"

"Hmm," Geto hummed and pulled out a chair to sit opposite him. "Fixing means returning to its original state. I don't think things will go back to normal."

"But, I don't want to lose her. I know I don't!"

"Then you must set your priorities straight."

"But-" Gojo looked into Geto's eyes again. "That would mean I will loose you and that's equally as bad."

Geto shook his head. "You won't loose me. I'll still be here. You can still come over and we can still hang out. It just won't be like before."

"And that's what I don't want," Gojo mumbled and crossed his arms again while leaning into the backrest.

"Truthfully, if I had a girlfriend as amazing as Y/N I would spend a lot of time with her and not you."

Gojo swore he could feel his heart crack. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, "that it's only natural to pick your lover over your friends. Not always, of course, but often enough."

Geto lifted his head to see his friend pale as a ghost, his skintone could now rival with his hair. He immediatelly regreted what he said. "But as I said, even if that was the case, even if you chose her as your top priority, which you should've as a good boyfriend, then it wouldn't mean I would cease to exist. And if I get someone in the future and I do the same you won't cease to exist to me either. You are my best friend, Satoru," he placed a hand on Gojo's shoulder, "and no girl will ever change that."

Gojo's ocean blue eyes let some tears slipped. He realized that his best friend is right, as always. Geto will always be there. And sure, even after he gets busy in his own life and won't have time for Gojo and his antics anymore, that wouldn't mean they would change into strangers to one another.

Gojo quickly wiped his tears and nodded. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't want tk fix this. I want to evolve this. I want her back. I want to learn to love her again. Properly this time."

"You sure about that?"

Gojo nodded.

"Even after she won't forgive you?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's smart. She will understand. Besides, how can you rehect the best man in the world?" He forced out a chuckle.

Geto shook his head. "Arrogant and full of yourself as always."

"Yeah, what can you do..."

Geto's phone buzzed again. But this time nkt from a phone call but a message. Geto took out his phone, gave it a short glance and put it back into his pocket.

"Was it Shoko?"

Geto shook his head. "Just my reminder. Me and Shoko planned to go see a movie."

"Oh, is that what you talked about canceling?"

Geto nodded. "Y/N knocked on her door and asked to stay a few days. From what Shoko told me she was a mess."

Gojo slumped forward on his chair and hid his face in his hands. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

Geto hummed. "Do you know what this is callled? Consequences. Hurts, doesn't it?"

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk fanfic

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killerlookz · 2 days

Text

Growing Pains | Spencer Reid

pairing: s2!spencer reid x gn! reader

description: after spending what felt like an eternity pining over Spencer Reid, the two of you finally began moving towards becoming something... until his run-in with Tobias Hankel seemed to put a stop to every aspect of Spencer's life, even his relationship with you.

details: Spencer's post-revelations related trauma, angst! and fluff (hurt with comfort), sporadic flashbacks

word count: 2,321

i hate that i can't love you, but I'm just in the way / but you say i won't be here forever, and you'll take as long as it takes

Your cold hands ached as they struggled to make a fist, raising that balled-up hand to the dark, wooded door.

Every day for the last week and a half you'd come to this very door, that of your friend, Spencer Reid. And every day for the last week and a half you would knock on the door and hope with anxious breaths for an answer. Only to receive no response.

Part of you would worry he was dead if it wasn't for the fact that at the very least he had managed to at least call out of work each and every day. It was so typical of Spencer ,it almost made you smile. Even after all of the trauma he had just gone through, he still made sure to call out of work. No one expected to see him back at the BAU for a while. Not after Tobias Hankel.

Despite all too much of it having been live-streamed directly to you and the rest of the BAU, you knew very little of what had actually happened to Spencer in the time he had been taken by Tobias Hankel, nobody did. And the truth is, you barely knew of what was live-streamed. Maybe it made you "weak" in comparison to the rest of the team, but you just couldn't bear to look at Spencer in that state. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not Spencer was going to live was already too much to handle- even now, knowing he was safe, you still had trouble sleeping, the scenario of having not made it in time playing through your mind over and over again.

Knock, knock, knock

You held your breath in anticipation as your hands hit the door, you bit your lip in a painful desperation. Please, Spencer. You beg, your voice cracking as you whisper to yourself.

No response.

It wasn't like Spencer to not talk to you, especially not for days on end. The two of you had been friends since the academy. You were instantly drawn to him, maybe it was his impressive memory, or how passionate he was about his work, maybe it was his awkward boyish charm, or his sweet smile, or how his eyes lit up when he won a game of chess or cards, and the way he scrunched his nose whenever he laughed, maybe it was the way his sweaters never fit just right, and his socks never matched, or-

It was more than sufficient to say that you had fallen head over heels for Spencer, more than you had for anyone else in your life, you were in love. He was kind, and inviting, and you could never understand why everyone else seemed to make fun of him. And finally after what felt like an eternity of pining, and planning for the perfect moment- a french film marathon at Spencer's apartment and a few too many glasses of cheap wine was what let your feelings slip. You could still feel the way your stomach dropped as the words left your tongue,

"You know I love you, Spence"

"Yeah- like- as a friend." He stuttered, obviously caught off guard

You could have saved yourself then, played it cool, and said yes, but before you could stop yourself your head was shaking no.

Spencer's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish smile, "Really?" He looks down at his lap, his fingers rapidly tapping against his knee, "I- wow- I-" He shakes his head and looks back at you, "I love you too."

With a few blinks you find yourself back in reality. You could only live in memories for so long. You sighed, as tears welled up in your eyes. Part of you wondered if you were being selfish, crying about how you missed him when he was going through so much worse.

You wiped your stinging eyes, fuck it. You needed to know how he was doing. You reach into the pocket of your coat, feeling around before gripping the cool metal of your key ring. You pull it out of your pocket before gripping the keys that hung from it tightly in your hands. The dull metal pressed into the skin of your hands, and your cold, stiff fingers gripped harder to the point where it hurt. You closed your eyes, wincing as you tightened your fist around the metal even harder, trying to convince yourself to go through with your plan. At some point of you and Spencer "going steady" you had exchanged keys to each other's apartments.

You released the key ring from your grip, a red indent left in the palm of your aching hand. You sift through the various keys and with a loud jingling sound, the other keys fell to the bottom of the ring as you gripped the key to Spencer's apartment between your thumb and index finger. You sigh once more, telling yourself the worst that could happen is if he really doesn't want to see you he will tell you to leave and you will listen.

You push the key into the lock and twist it until you can turn the door handle. The door opens with a creak, and you step into the dark apartment, careful to close the door softly behind you. You can barely see two feet in front of you, all the lights are off and the blinds are drawn. Your hand slides up a wall as you fumble around for a light switch, flicking on the soft, warm wall light next to the door. You blink a few times, getting used to the light before your gaze darts over to the kitchen table. The apartment was almost unrecognizable. It was cluttered to a degree that you had never seen from Spencer before. He was usually so well organized. But now, papers, takeout containers, and half-drunken cups of coffee were scattered around the dark wooden surface.

It broke your heart to see Spencer's living spaces in such disarray, if this is what his apartment looked like, you couldn't even bear to think about what you might find if you were to peek inside his mind. Even with the lights now on, the dark green walls of the apartment never felt this dark to you.

You tread softly toward his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise against the creaky wood of his apartment floor. Part of you was aware of how creepy this seemed- and you worried maybe you'd scare Spencer by entering his room. Still- maybe it was selfish, but you missed him too much to allow another day go by without seeing him. Allowing Spencer to just stay holed up in his apartment for days on end was not going to do anything for anyone.

You press your hand against Spencer's bedroom door, it's opened just a crack and you're able to push the door open with a small creak. The room isn't as dark as the rest of his apartment, a few small beams of light from the setting sun peek into the small room from blinds that haven't been fully closed, drenching it with a warm orange color.

Spener's clothes are scattered throughout the room, and his brown leather bag had been thrown on the ground near the door, papers and books spilling out of it. You could almost guarantee it had been in that spot from the moment he got home from that dreaded case.

Your eyes flick up to the bed in the middle of the room where Spencer lay, his face down, stuffed into the pillows. His comforter had been kicked to the side, and the fitted sheet had come off one of the corners of the mattress.

You wondered just how much Spencer had actually left his bed since he had gotten home, the takeout containers and coffee cups in the dining room signified to you at least he did at some point leave his bedroom. Still, the sorry state of everything made you want to cry. How could anyone do this to him?

You slip off your shoes, and inch across the soft carpet closer to the bed, careful not to step on any of the clothes that were strewn about the floor.

"Spencer," You say, just above a whisper, attempting to let him know of your presence. He barely even stirs in response to the noise, turning onto his side deep in sleep.

As you got closer to the bed you could see him more clearly. His hair was a mess, long curly strands stuck to his cheeks with sweat, his eyes shut tight and his mouth almost turned down into a frown. Even in sleep, he looked so upset, so tortured. It made you sick to your stomach to even think about what he could have been dreaming about.

"Spencer?" You say again, weaker this time- your voice trembling with nerves.

No response.

You sigh, pulling off your jacket and allowing it to collect on the floor with the rest of the scattered clothes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and think carefully about your next move. You don't want to frighten him, but it may be impossible not to not after you basically broke in.

You reach a delicate hand outward and move a couple pieces of Spencer's hair from his cheek. His head moves slightly in response, but you continue to smooth your hand down the rest of the length of his hair. You can tell it's tangled, even without combing your fingers through it. You let your hand fall further, down his neck, resting on his bare back. He's warm to the touch as you rub soft circles on the exposed skin.

"Spencer?" You say again, louder this time leaning your body towards him.

His eyes flick open and he's jolted awake, swatting your arm away as a gasp leaves his mouth.

"H-hey," You grab his arm to prevent him from swinging any further, "It's just me Spence."

He stares at you wide-eyed, pupils dilated with a mix of confusion and fear. His throat rises with a thick swallow and his lip trembles. You begin speaking frantically,

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fright-"

"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice is weak but there's a pointedness to his question.

"I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay- I haven't heard from you in a while and I was so worried about you I just-" Your brain was going a mile a minute before all of a sudden... your train of thought disappears as you look into Spencer's obviously pained eyes. His eyes blink rapidly as he attempts to hold back tears. The sheets have fallen off of him and his bare chest is shiny with sweat as it rises and falls rapidly. You let go of his arm, letting it drop down beside him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, too saddened at the state of him to continue.

Spencer stares at you for another moment before looking down, a single tear dripping down his pale cheek. Even now, like this he was still beautiful to you. And despite everything you couldn't help but for your heart to fill with love. But as your heart felt with love, the rest of your body overflowed with anxiety as you contemplated what to even do or say next. You stutter,

"D-do you want me to leave-"

"No." Spencer cuts you off. "Stay." He looks back up at you, "Please." His eyes are wet with tears that threaten to escape down his face.

"Of course," You nod, "of course," softer this time.

"Can we lay down?" Spencer asks, twisting his face. You nod fervently, swinging your legs onto the bed. You pat the pillow next to you, beckoning Spencer to lie back down. He does so, slowly, and you follow, your faces inches from each other, heads on the same pillow.

You inch yourself closer to Spencer, heat radiating off of his trembling body. You place a hand upon his cheek, stroking your thumb slowly back and forth.

"Am I ever going to be okay?" Spencer sniffles. The question feels like a knife had been stabbed right through your heart.

"Of course you will, Spence, " You assure, soft yet firm.

"It doesn't feel like it," He shakes his head, forcing your hand to fall from its spot on his cheek.

"These things take time, lots and lots of time."

"Yeah but-" He starts, getting choked up again, "What if you don't want to wait for me?"

"Wait for you?" You ask, confused as to what he meant.

"If I'm like this for too long." He answers, "You won't want to be around anymore."

"Oh Spencer," you shake your head, "No, no" You put your hand back onto his cheek.

"I feel like such a burden- that's why I haven't called," His voice breaks as he starts crying, really crying this time, "I mean- I'm an FBI agent, I should be able to get through this. Everyone else on the team would be back to work in an instant. And I can't even get out of bed."

"Spencer." You cut off his ramblings, "You are not a burden- you could have died, Spencer, no one is expecting you to be alright."

"I feel like I should be." He pauses, "I just don't want everyone to sit around worrying about me, I don't want you to sit around worrying about me. It's not fair."

"I worry because I care." You relay a small smile, "Because I love you."

"And that's what I'm afraid of, one day you'll realize you've spent so much effort worrying about me that you won't want to love me anymore."

"Never." You wipe the tears from Spencer's eyes, trying to give him gentle reassurance. "I'd wait forever for you to be okay."

a/n: woah long time no post? I haven't posted a fic on here in almost two years! sorry I'm a little rusty, I've been deeeep in a creative rut. I'm accepting requests now however, Ive missed you guys!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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leclerc-hs · 2 days

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tachycardia pt.2 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.5k author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.

“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter.

“How many times do I have to tell you no?” You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter.

“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee.

She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”

You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”

Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”

“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.

“What does he look like?”

“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.

She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”

You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”

You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”

You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?

Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.

“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”

“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”

Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.

“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”

In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren’t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.

“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”

Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”

The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”

You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.

“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”

Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.

“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?”

“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes.

“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.

“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.

“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.

“Smell like what?”

As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.

Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.

Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.

“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”

His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”

His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.

“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.

With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.

“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.

Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.

His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.

You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.

He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.

“See you there, mon lapin.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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danytar · 3 days

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“Meet me at the highest heaven” [ King!Aegon!Targaryen X Sister!Wife!Reader ]

Warnings: anxiety, aegon is going to Rook's Rest,Incest, mention of war and death, No use of y/n, swearing,(m receiving),erotic lactation.

Summary: Aegon is going to the battle. And now you feel like your heart will be torn apart at any moment. Will you be able to say goodbye to him?

'The true king is the king who leads his battles himself' The famous quote in the world. Which you've heard hundreds of times. But you did not think that your husband would apply the phrase himself. You are still in pain over the murder of your eldest son.

You still haven't forgotten what happened.. You still haven't forgotten how you lost two children in one night. It was like a nightmare.. you hoped you would wake up soon and find yourself in bed with your husband. as a prince and princess.

The weight of your titles weighs heavily on your shoulders. You hoped it was a joke or something but it never was.. Your husband has already entered the game of thrones and getting out of that game is not as easy as entering it.

You were in your room, combing your silver locks, lost in your thoughts then you heard your doors open and there was the new hand of the king. “My queen”. His voice was polite and firm.

“Yes sir criston? ”. You let the comb from your hand and turned to see him standing there close to the big door of your chambers. “His grace requested your presence in his own chambers”. he replied to you.

You nodded and got up from your chair to leave the room. The knight led the way for your husband's chambers. you can't help but feel worry about what will happen next.You don't know what's causing this feeling, but you ignore it for now at least.

The guard opened the door for you and stopped outside the room. You entered the room and your gaze fell directly on him he was standing there in full armor. You swallow and take steps closer to him.

He looked at you and didn't speak yet. There was a silent moment between you two, just letting your eyes speak for you. He meets you with a warm smile on his lips you couldn't help but feel small tears wet your cheeks.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you don't let him but you rushe to him and embraces him hardly. The feel of steel on your skin doesn't bother you at all.He hugged you back he moved your hair away from your bare shoulders and placed his head there to inhale your scent.

One of his hands was gently stroking your hair and the other was tight around you. He broke the silence between you two with a little joke to lighten the mood “Is my queen trying to seduce me with this dress now?” He cocked his head and looked at you with a smile.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly “Shut up”. he chuckled with you then he wiped away the remnants of your tears and looked into your eyes.

“Don't cry my queen I won't leave you alone in this world I swear”. He lifted your chin with his thumb so you could look at him. He can see the coming tears from your eyes So he presses a kiss between your eyebrows.

“Do you really have to go?”. The words escaped your trembling lips. You cannot afford another loss and it's not any loss A piece of you. “I'm afraid I do, my love it's my duty to protect my kingdoms...to protect you”.

He tucked your silver locks behind your ears and looked at your eyes sweetly. He may be a king but your tears make him the weakest thing you could ever imagine. He hugged you to his chest again and his arms caress your shoulders and your bare back.

“I want to go with you”. You break the hug and look at him. He cups your cheeks and sighs “No, you will stay here I won't let my queen go the battle”.

“Aegon-” He interrupts you and places his thumb on your lips “No objections You're not going anywhere”. He looked at you in the eye and spoke softly. He was serious, he didn't want to put his wife in danger.

You pulled away from him and turned to give him your back. He sighed at your stubbornness and spoke in a sweet, low tone “Is this how you will say goodbye to me?”.

“This is not a farewell. You will return to me against your will ”. You gently wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. he chuckled and talked to tease you “I can't promise I'll come back alive”.

You turn around again, with a frown on your face. he chuckles when he sees your face. “This is not funny aegon! ”

He wipes away the tears of laughter and approaches you again. You try to move away again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.He presses his lips to yours forcefully His kisses were desperate and intense. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you hard.

He bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth slightly so he could insert his tongue inside. you gladly opened your mouth slightly and your tongue joined his with an elaborate dance. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting heavily.

He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You closed your eyes and sighed then you spoke in a low tone “Come back safe”. you whispered in his hear. He smiled at you and replied, “I will.” He holds you tightly and whispers into you ear, “Be strong, love, I'll be home before you know it...”He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Come back to me one piece, please”. you whispered to him.

“I promise, I'll be back..” He caresses your cheek, “You must be brave and look after yourself and our son”. He whispers to you and hugs you again, but this time his lips travel to your exposed neck and kiss you there. Your body shivers under his touch.

He sighs softly as he feels her soft skin beneath his palms “So soft..” He continues to kiss your neck, as his hands working to undress you slowly.He whispers to you and nibbles your ear “If you think you're going to seduce me like this without me doing anything to you, you're wrong my love”.

“I wasn’t planning to seduce you.” You reply with a low tone.

“Excuses...excuses ”. He lets your dress fall so he can kiss your breasts and suck your nipples. Your breasts were still producing milk because you were pregnant from little while before your tragic miscarriage.

He was still in his armor and combat uniform, but you never complained about the feel of the rough steel on your bare skin. He rose from your chest, then got up and rubbed his thumbs over your breasts.

He looked at you in the eye and smiled “Lay on the bed for me my sweet queen”. You felt a tingle of emotions hit your stomach. You did as you were told he smiled at you and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs he placed a bunch of kisses on your thighs and his tongue started messing with you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and held your husband's face in place. He was caressing your pearl and he will nor stop until you told him to stop Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye.

♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 days

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550 words / 25 / more ghost + gaz with free use medic reader

...

"Come here, medic."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Ain't a request." Ghost takes you firmly by the back of the neck before you can flee. He squeezes tight enough to make it clear he's not asking.

You feel his and Gaz’s eyes on you--on the bleeding laceration sliced through the outer cartilage of your ear and on the bruise forming on your cheekbone. You got tangled up briefly with an enemy tango and almost became a hostage. Or a statistic. But you're fine now.

"You're making a big deal over nothing,” you tell them.

Ghost pulls you forward and angles your face this way and that, trying to get a better look at you.

Gaz crosses his arms and stares you down. "Fine is when you burn yourself on a shell casing. You're not fine." He's barely holding back the edge in his voice. He can't pull rank on you--none of them can, technically--and he's supposed to be polite and respectful. But seeing that happen to you, and the adrenaline running through him, is making him thoughtless.

"He only grabbed me. Didn't hurt me."

Ghost hisses at you, his voice just as rough as the squeeze he has on the back of your neck. "What happened isn't important. What's important is that he thought he could touch you." His grip tightens. "You're in our squad. You're under our watch. No one messes with you."

Your gut twists. That's not fair--acting protective. It's part of their job to keep you safe, but they don't have to talk like this. You glance at Gaz for help, but the look on his face tells you he doesn’t disagree with Ghost. You swallow the protests on the tip of your tongue and close your eyes, silently letting them examine you.

Ghost finds another few nicks and fresh bruises. You’re a medic—you’re not as armored as they are because it’s a goddamn war crime to kill medical personnel. "Jesus,” he mutters. “Bastard snuck up on us.”

"Thank you," you say quietly.

"For what?" Ghost snaps back. As usual, he's not expecting gratitude from you. You're supposed to take the insults, the berating, the harshness. And the protection, because you belong to them. At least, that's how they see it.

Gaz speaks up. "No one treats you like that again, alright?"

"It's not like I asked him if he needed a hostage."

"Doesn't matter," Gaz retorts. "If someone puts a finger on you like that again--"

Soap ducks back into the room, his rifle’s muzzle on his shoulder.

"Take care of it?" Ghost asks.

"Aye," Soap says. "Bastard won't be layin' his hands on anyone anymore. Not enough fingers left, for starters." He turns to you with a look of sympathy, but you recognize the wild edge of adrenaline still present. "You alright, hen?"

"I'm fine." You use the opportunity to worm yourself out of Ghost's grasp. "We going?"

"Affirmative," Gaz says. “We should move.”

Ghost turns away, forcing his attention back on the mission even though he carries himself with cold anger. Soap looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on your cheekbone a little longer this time. He seems about to say something, but thinks better of it. His blue eyes soften just a bit before he turns to follow Gaz and Ghost.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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scoonsalicious · 3 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 28, Unwanted - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence, death

Word Count: 2.9k

Previously On...: Jade's running, Bucky's chasing, and you've had the shit beat out of you.

A/N: It's our Battle for Pride Rock, ya'll!

via GIPHY

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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After several long minutes of being manhandled through the forest, you heard a distant roar through the pine needles, and while you recognized the sound of Bucky’s voice, the absolute rage evident in his tone was completely foreign to you. “CARTHAGE!” he bellowed, sending a group of birds, squawking in indignation, into the sky. You tried to focus, to determine how far away he was from you, but the pain in your body, in your head, was too disorienting for you to figure it out.

So, instead, you decided to offer him some metaphorical breadcrumbs to point the way to your location. “BUCKY!” you screamed, as loud as you could, trying to break free of Jade’s grasp so you could run toward the sound of his voice. “BUCKY! I’M HERE!”

You made a valiant effort, but Jade would always be stronger than you. Gripping you tighter, she began running with you, away from the direction of Bucky’s voice, but you kept shouting for him.

He screamed your name again, and you were relieved to hear he didn’t seem as far away now, closing in. His voice was shattered with desperation, but he was gaining on you. Despite the pain each time your body jolted, you purposefully stumbled, hoping to slow Jade’s progress, but she kept moving, kept dragging you even if your feet were not perched solidly on the ground.

You ran behind Jade until time had no real meaning, not knowing how far you’d traveled from the base, or where she intended your final destination to be. All you could do was take every opportunity you had to scream Bucky’s name and wait for him to call back to you, each time his voice coming from less distance than the time before.

Eventually, Jade came to a sudden halt, and shoved you down to the ground. You took a brief moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings. You’d reached a clearing in the woods, and behind you stood a steep drop leading to boulders scattered below. Jade had gotten herself trapped, and you knew she would become reckless, be truly dangerous, now that she was cornered.

You could hear Bucky now, running through the woods as his combat boots crushed twigs and pinecones underfoot. He was coming for you, but he’d be walking straight into danger, facing off against a wounded animal that had to know there was no real chance for her to escape, and that would make her desperate, a loose cannon.

Jade jerked you back up again, and you felt the cold press of a gun barrel against your temple as she held you in front of her. You held your breath, waiting for Bucky to burst through the treeline. Your entire body ached, from your swollen face, to your broken nose, to the scratches that covered your bare feet and body where branches and stones had cut into your skimpy dancer’s outfit. Blood was running down your legs from cuts too numerous to catalog.

Soon, the crashing sound of Bucky moving through the trees gave way as he threw himself into the clearing, guns raised in both hands as he pointed them in the direction of Jade’s head. She gripped you tighter and pressed her gun harder into your skin.

“Stop there, Jamie,” Carthage shouted before Bucky could come too close. You clocked his movements as he quickly assessed the situation: the gun to your head, your useless left arm, all the blood pouring from your nose and various injuries, but he did as she asked, stopping not far from where he’d exited the trees.

“You okay, doll?” he called to you, searching your eyes with desperation. The look on his face was devastating, the sheer helplessness on it as he took in your state. He was covered in blood, an avenging angel who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a nightmare, yet the sight of him made you feel like you were dreaming.

“Gotta say, I’ve been better, baby,” you replied, flinching as Jade squeezed your arm with more force than was necessary. She held a gun on you, for fuck’s sake– where did she think you were going to go?

Bucky nodded. “A gun to your head, and you got jokes. That’s my girl.” He offered you a small smile, then turned his focus to Jade. “Let her go, Carthage,” he said, his voice now low and menacing. “This is between you and me. She doesn’t need to be here for this.”

“She has everything to do with this, Jamie!” Jade cried, pulling you back against her chest. “This is all her fault! Everything would have been perfect if you could have just let her go!”

You watched as Bucky inched closer, his movements so slow they were barely noticeable. He’d raised both guns in the air, no longer pointing them at Jade, but not removing his fingers from the trigger. “Let’s talk about this, okay?” he asked her. “There’s got to be an understanding we can come to, you and me.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is you,” Jade sobbed, moving the arm not holding the gun up to wrap around your neck. “We’re the same, you know that, right? We were created by the same people, using the same serum. We belong together, Jamie! I was built to love you! And you’re never going to be able to see that until she’s gone for good.”

“Jade,” Bucky said slowly, “Hydra’s messed with your mind, they’ve brainwashed you. You don’t even know me. You only love what they made you think I was.”

“NO!” she shouted, moving backward and pulling you both toward the edge of the drop. “She’s the one who’s been brainwashing you! If it wasn’t for her, you’d love me, you’d want to be with me the same way I want to be with you! Once I kill her, once she’s finally out of the way, you’ll be able to see that. You’ll finally understand!”

“That’s not gonna happen, Vix,” Bucky said sadly. “I love Pocket more than I’ve ever loved anyone, anything, and that’s never gonna stop. I’m not gonna let you hurt her, and I’m sure as shit not going to let you kill her.”

“But you made love to me, Jamie!” Jade sobbed. “In Russia, we made love and it was so beautiful! You can’t pretend that didn’t happen! That it didn’t mean something to you! I know it did!”

“Jade,” Bucky shook his head at her, the look he gave her fully of pity, “the only reason I ever touched you was because I thought Pocket had been with Steve, that she had betrayed me, and I was so angry, I wanted to hurt her back.” His eyes moved to find yours. “I was a fucking fool for ever thinking she would have done that; she’s too good a person, and I don’t deserve her.” His eyes went back to Jade. “It’s the only reason. I didn’t want you. I never wanted you. Fuck, I had to pretend you were her just so I could get hard, so I could finish. I could have never finished just from being with you, Jade, because I don’t love you. And I never will.”

Bucky’s words brought tears to your eyes. You’d seen the video, you knew he was telling the truth. He’d been angry, and she’d used that anger to manipulate him, but he had never stopped thinking about you. Because he loved you, and he always had. You saw that so clearly now. And because he loved you, he was going to risk letting her get away.

“LIES!” Jade screeched, her voice so shrill you thought it might burst your eardrums. “I can make you love me! Once she’s dead, you’ll forget all about her. Hydra will erase her from your memory, and we can be happy!”

“Let her go,” Bucky pleaded. “Let her go and you and I can talk. We can come to an agreement.”

“No! She has to die, so you can be free, Jamie! So we can be together. She needs to die.”

“Bucky,” you sobbed, trying to keep yourself upright. “Bucky, it doesn’t matter what she does to me, you have to stop her. She can’t go free, and you can’t go back to Hydra! I’m not worth it. I… I never have been. I love you so much. And I always will. I never stopped. But you have to stop her. Pozhaluysta, lyubov' moya.” Please, my love.

“SHUT UP!” Jade shouted, hitting you on the back of the head with the butt of her gun. It wasn’t enough to knock you unconscious, but it knocked you off balance, rattling your already pounding skull. Bucky made a move to come closer, but the barrel of the gun was back to your temple in an instant, and he halted.

“I wish we’d had a chance to start over, baby,” you said to Bucky, tears streaming down your face. Jade was going to kill you. She was going to kill you, and you’d never hold Bucky again, never kiss him, never feel him inside of you, laugh with him over something incredibly stupid, ever again. Never see your family again. Never see Tony. Fuck. You’d never see Tony again. But it would be worth it. Your loss of life would be worth it if it kept Hydra from getting its hands back on Bucky, from ever hurting him again. You knew that once your life was no longer on the line, Bucky would be able to overpower Jade, to subdue her, send her to the Raft where garbage like her belonged. “I wish we had time to start everything fresh and build something new, something better,” you sobbed. “But we don’t. You have to let me go so you can stop her, Bucky. Please.” You choked on the final word, a desperate plea. He had to know it was for the best. He had to.

“No,” Bucky choked out. “No, I’m not going to let you get hurt again, doll. Not because of me. Never again.” He slowly and gently set his guns down on the ground in front of him.

“I can’t be with you if you kill her, Jade,” Bucky said, voice full of saddened resolve. “I’d never be able to see past it, and I’d… I’d never be able to love you if I knew you were a murderer.”

What the fuck was he doing? You wondered. You both already knew she was a murderer– you’d seen the same footage, for fucks’ sake!

“Bucky–” you began, but he continued, speaking over you.

“If you let her go, I’ll come with you. You can take me back to Hydra, and we… we can be together. I’ll let you love me, and I’ll learn to love you. But you have to let her live. If she dies, it will always come between us. I know you don’t want that… and… and neither do I. Don’t you want us to be happy, Vix?” He took another step toward her. “We can be happy, but you have to let Pocket live. Please.”

“I don’t fucking care about Hydra anymore!” Jade cried. “I stopped caring about what they wanted the minute I fell in love with you! I’m not going to let them have you, just like I’m not going to let her have you! You’re mine, Jamie!” She squeezed your throat tighter, and you began to find it difficult to breathe. “You’re mine, and I’m yours! You have to say it!”

Bucky closed his eyes, as though what he was about to say was going to physically pain him. “I’m yours, and you're mine, Vix. The way it’s supposed to be. The way we were made to be.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, and you could practically taste the sorrow in his gaze, the apology he was wordlessly begging you to accept.

“We’re gonna have such a beautiful life together, Jamie.” Jade’s voice took on a lighter, happier, yet infinitely more terrifying tone. “We’ll get a house, a dog. Have so many beautiful babies! We’ll be a happy family, just us.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “We can have all of that, Vix. Everything you want, and more, but you have to let Pocket go. Can you do that for me, honey?” He choked out the words as though it made him sick to say. “Can you show me that you’re a good person, that you don’t want to start our new life with blood on your hands? I don’t want that for you, or our future kids. Do you?”

You felt the hold Jade had on you loosening, her grip relaxing. “No,” she said before tossing you aside as if you were nothing. “If it’s not what you want, then I don’t want it, either.”

In an instant, Bucky was positioning himself so that he was between you and Carthage, and she wasted no time in throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. You watched in horror as he kissed her back, and it was like every nightmare you’d had over the last several months had come to life before your eyes. “Bucky,” you begged, reaching for him. He pulled his lips away from Jade. “I’m sorry, Pocket,” he said, without turning to look at you, “but Vix is my girl now. We’re going to be together.”

“Oh, Jamie! Do you promise?” Jade asked, her face awash in delight.

“I promise, honey,” he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

You thought you were going to be sick as you backed slowly away from the two of them. You knew that he was only doing this to save your life, but it didn’t make watching it hurt any less.

Bucky carefully tracked you with one open eye as he continued to kiss Jade. Once he seemed satisfied that you were far enough behind him, and that Jade was thoroughly distracted with her guard down, he grabbed her throat with his vibranium hand and began to squeeze.

Jade’s eyes bulged open as she began struggling for breath, swatting at Bucky’s hand with the gun she still held in her fist. But a super solider alone was no match for a super solider with vibranium, and Bucky continued to choke her.

“You think you can just hurt my girl and I’d let you walk away?” Bucky growled, any trace of softness gone from his voice. “You think you can lay a hand on her and I’ll let you fucking live?”

“You… promised…” she gasped with the little air she had left in her lungs, and the look she gave Bucky was almost heartbreaking in its sense of betrayal. Almost. She was still a cunt, after all.

“Yeah, well,” he began, tightening his fingers, “my promises don’t mean shit.”

With the last remaining ounces of her strength, Jade raised her gun and pointed it in your general direction. “If I…” she choked out, “can’t… have you… you… can’t have… her… either.”

Time distorted into slow motion as you watched Jade pull the trigger of the gun, saw the bullet race toward you and plunge into your abdomen with a force that knocked you backward. You gingerly touched your stomach, your hands coming away nearly black with blood. “Buck?” you asked softly, before your knees buckled and you fell.

You heard Bucky scream, the sound full of rage and despair, followed by the sickening crack of bone breaking, and the thump of a body unceremoniously hitting the ground.

You lay there, blinking up into the impossibly blue sky. It was so bright, yet seemed to be growing dimmer by the second. Bucky’s face soon filled your vision, his eyes filled with tears, and you felt the pressure of his hands as they tried to staunch the bleeding of your gunshot wound.

“Pocket,” he cried, “baby. You gotta stay with me, okay? You gotta focus. I’m so sorry, doll. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Why was he so sad? You wondered. God, even when he was crying, he was still so pretty.

“Hey,” you said, reaching up to touch his face and leaving a bloody smear across his skin. “Don’t cry.”

You felt him slide his arms under you, lifting your body to him as he cradled you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he wailed. You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for, but you didn’t want him to be sad. You never wanted him to be sad.

“Hey there… handsome soldier,” you wheezed. You coughed, and droplets of blood from your mouth speckled across Bucky’s face. “That a gun… in your pocket… or… you just… happy… to see me?” You tried to smile, just wanting to make him laugh, but you could feel blood run out of the corner of your lips. You were getting so cold.

In the distance, you could hear a roar, like the sound of a tornado drawing closer, coming to pick you up and carry you away to Oz.

“You’re dying in my arms and you got fucking jokes?” Bucky exhaled a terrified laugh. “You just gotta hold on a little while longer, love. The teams’ on their way. Can you hear the jet? They’re coming.”

But you couldn’t hear the jet. You could barely hear Bucky’s voice as darkness enveloped you. “I… I love you… Buckar–” you managed to breathe out, one last time, before everything went silent, and black.

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