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#In Accelerated Silence
bones-ivy-breath · 1 year
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The Day Before by Brooke Matson, from In Accelerated Silence
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elizabethsproctor · 1 year
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I knew there were spaces inside us that ache toward the light.
In Accelerated Silence, Brooke Matson
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schadentekkers · 4 months
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How did you bypass the block? 👀
chris charlton i know it's you
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium
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Simon’s phone is ringing. 
Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.  
His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen. 
You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way. 
“Hey, you-“
“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff. 
It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.
“What’s wrong?” 
“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train. 
“He followed you from the platform?” 
“Well, he could be walking this way too…” 
“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?” 
“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we. 
The baby is with you. 
His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her? 
He feels sick. 
“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.
“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“ 
“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?” 
“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot.  “Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.” 
“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head. 
It all comes screeching to a stop. 
He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name. 
“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.” 
“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it. 
“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train. 
“Oh my god.” 
“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear. 
“Our hero.”
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evilminji · 3 months
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You ever fuck up so bad, you accidentally kidnap someone?
Imagine, if you will, the players of our scene. Young Justice. Perhaps the Teen Titans. It matters not, really, only that they are young. Too young, in fact, for the booze they have smuggled in, to celebrate still being ALIVE.
They didn't think they would be, approximately seven hours ago.
They didn't think ANYONE would be, by this time, seven hours later.
The world celebrates. Families hug, children cry and laugh, lovers desperately reunite. They did it. They saved the day. Survived.
With new wounds and some fresh new trauma to show for it, too. Perhaps... Perhaps it is that. And the looseness of alcohols effect on the tounge. Combined with their new closeness... that gets them talking. Sharing.
Talking of skills. Training. Histories normally not mentioned. Perhaps even bitching about this mentor or that old teacher, and OH, weren't they a NAG! "Fundamentals~!" The magic user mocks in drunkin parody of their old teacher. "it's all about the FUNDAMENTALS! Practice circles until you puke!"
But...
Oh? Oh DEAR~
Drunks have such POOR impulse control, don't they? The Speedster scoffs. He doesn't mean harm. Truely, he doesn't. But to him? It is a constant irritant against sore skin, that his team mates have access to such powerful and strange powers... yet choose not too study them at ALL! Ask questions. That they haven't considered the advancements humanity could make if they just TRIED.
Everything has an answer.
Just because you don't know what it IS yet, doesn't mean it doesn't EXSIST out there.
But this is an old argument. They ALSO a sore spot for the magic user and (by the many gods they know better then to swear by) they are SICK of it! You- *urk!* You think you can do BETTER? Explain it then, Mr. "Magic isn't real"!
And oh dear, oh dear~
The usual mitigator has already fallen asleep. Passed out, really, having amongst other things, texted their Ex and decided they NEEDED to dye their hair. Which leaves no one to stop what about to unfold. As the Speedster slams down his drink, his hyper accelerated metabolism leaving him, ironically, one of the LEAST drunk in the room.
But... sometimes all you NEED to royally fuck up?
Is to be just buzzed enough to ignore your better instincts.
And the argument kicks up. Again. Heats up. Again. But this time? Goes further. They are standing, yelling, in each other's faces. The Speedster certain they are just "making things up". The magic user hissing that the arcane is a field of STUDY. A SCIENCE and ART. Just because YOU don't-
But?
Well... One must ask. Have you ever FOUGHT a Speedster? Can you even conceive of what a pico-second FEELS like? What the Speedforce, once active, makes the world LOOK like? It is like statues. Silence. Calling a timeout on reality itself.
You can walk away.
No one can really stop you.
You can walk out the door, up the stairs, to your friends room, and grab books from their shelf. Sit and read them. ALL of them. The whole shelving unit. In the time it took a fraction of a second to pass. Then get up, put everything back, go back down stairs, search for supplies, find them, and return to your conversation. Having studied everything they have in the building.
And for them? It's like blinking. You just... have the supplies now. Air is displaced.
And you're ready to fuckin PROVE it.
You looked up all the symbols they used. So NOW? You can use nonsense. No chance that ANYTHING will happen, right? It's not "official magic"! He says, talking over a buzzed magic user. Who's staring at him blankly, mind churning as they try figure out why... why it sounds like he's saying he's about to do the One Thing they were... told.. to never...
Oh God.
WAIT!
DONT!
But it's too late. Our dear Speedster has made his "gibberish" circle. Chanted randomly strung together magically charged NONSENSE. Then? Let her rip! See? Nothing happ-
The world seems to suck in it's breath and wind up, as though preparing to PERSONALLY punish such hubris. The magic user us screaming. Back! Every GET BACK! Move, move, MOVE! Green hisses and crackles from the circle.
As.
Reality.
CRACKS.
!!!BOOM!!!
Glass shatters and electronics are beyond salvation. The couchs many dove behind are shredded, but hold. Sections of the ceiling and floor collapsing. The Radiation alarm deeper in the base kicks in with a clicking wail. There is SOMETHING casting a looming shadow... and it has a CROWN.
The air burns like arctic winter wind and ozone.
Before anyone can think of what to DO, a harsh golden light rips open reality and out steps most of JLA Dark. The are standing in front of the now completely trashed Zeta-tube. Which they could not USE. They do not look amused.
"What. Did you. DO!?" Snarls an exhausted John Constantine from the front of the line up, his normal rougish face is still half bruises and the cigarette he's holding looks like it's the only thing keeping him from strangling someone. "We could feel that from FUCKIN SPACE! We're you trying to blow up the PLANET?!"
"Good QUESTION!" snarls another voice, from the direction of where the circle should be "Here's another one! Where the HELL am I and who are you people?!"
Every spins to look.
There, floating above the green glowing circle, is a teen in a crown.
@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @dcxdpdabbles @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @nerdpoe
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thebellearchives · 9 months
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𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑
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~ inumaki toge // fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen
✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : at night, you and your sorcerer friend take shelter in an inn room to take care of each other’s wounds
‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, making out, a bit suggestive maybe ?? (i’m still tagging it as fluff)
- gumi’s part: 'it’s complicated' friends to lovers, he tends to your wounds
- toge’s part : toge’s aware of your crush on him, you feel cursed energy through his kisses, onigiri ingredients in japanese, he uses harmless words at the very end, also uses cursed speech on you in the last sentence lol, you tend to his wounds
‧₊˚ a / n : wasn’t intending on posting this but anyways, this shots turned out kinda cute so, would’ve been sad to keep them to myself, also putting them together because both follow the same scenario and have many similarities
the reader feeling toge’s cursed speech was largely inspired by this 🫶🏻
also don’t question the fact that they’re in an inn room instead of the infirmary or smth okay just go with the flow bye 😭
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• 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎
You and Megumi somehow managed to check in the room without much questioning. Entering an inn late at night looking like you just got beat up was definitely something that would raise the front desk lady’s eyebrows, but you figured you had just gotten lucky.
You closed your eyes and sighed, Megumi’s footsteps came closer. You were sitting in the kitchen counter, knees apart from each other so Megumi could stand in between and attend to your wounds just like you had done before with his. His fingers lifted your chin up so he could see better under the room’s dim light. He pressed an alcohol drenched cotton ball lightly over your left eyebrow, making you jolt.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry” he mumbled “I’m almost done.”
Your eyelids opened slowly, finding him close to you, his dark eyes fixed on your wound. You studied his face in the meantime, long lashes contrasting with his pale clear skin, yet blending with his black irises.
“Can’t believe after all this time of being friends we just had our first mission together.”
“I’m guessing Gojo wasn’t sure of what would work well for us”
“That’s not what I mean, I mean we did great!”
He scoffed in slight amusement.
“Yeah, I knew we would”
“You mean you knew because I kicked your ass the last time we sparred?” a cheeky smile appeared on your face.
“As far as I remember, I was declared the winner” he raised an eyebrow
“Small details, truthfully it was a tie.”
“Right…” Megumi decided to cut the conversation, focusing more on wiping dry blood from your skin.
Finally he exhaled, his hand moved away, examining your face carefully. A soft frown appeared on his face as his eyes fell on your lips.
“Did you cut your lip?”
“Oh? Not that I’m aware of, it doesn’t hurt.”
“It’s bloody.”
Megumi’s fingers on your chin tensed up, sliding the cotton ball over your lip and then discarding it. He tilted your head to the right, blinking and squinting. With the same hand he was holding your jaw, he swiped his thumb over the lower lip.
With widened eyes you stared at him, alarm bells suddenly going off in your head and your irregular breathing hitting his skin, his gaze fixed on the way your soft lip molded under his fingertip. Tangled thoughts raced in your head, trying to figure out the sudden change in the atmosphere and the accelerating pace of your beating heart.
“It’s not wounded” Megumi’s voice was barely audible and you noticed the way his body had just gotten as stiff as yours, probably gaining awareness of the context you were both were surrounded by: him in between your thighs, under the cover of dim lightning and the silence of the night, being the closest to one another you had ever been.
Dark eyes wandered over your mouth, following his thumb as it now slid to the other side. Hesitantly, he moved even closer until his lips hovered over yours. The anticipation that filled the room made sure to cut off both your breathing and his. But then, Megumi closed the distance between your mouths, lashes lowering and hidden feelings bursting out into the open. Megumi’s kiss was soft, and you made sure to reciprocate slowly, easing into the unknown sensation of kissing him.
When the kiss stopped he remained still. Your shaky hands slid up his shirt, fingertips grasping the fabric to keep him in place for as long as the sweet burning sensation sat on your guts. You weren't sure of what came over yourself, maybe it was the curiosity of having him as more than a friend. Maybe it was the thoughts that had constantly whispered at the back of your head how attractive you thought he was, the thoughts you had made sure to ignore and so you never acted on them. Maybe it was the thrill of crumbling his aloof and distant demeanor in between your hands.
Maybe it had been all of those things together, but you slightly and eagerly nudged your nose against his. And so he kissed you again, with a deep sigh of surrender and his hands roaming up your thighs. The sounds of kissing filled the kitchen, your tongue sliding across his tongue, his hungry mouth now fighting against your, your fists pulling from his shirt. His fingers squeezed your skin, a breathy exhale left your throat almost becoming a soft whine.
Megumi’s hands then settled on your hips, until he suddenly stopped, freezing in place and then pulling away from you to search for your eyes. You stared back in a bit of a daze.
“What…” the black haired sorcerer tried to form a coherent sentence, but it seemed like his brain for once wasn’t cooperating.
“I…” you cleared your throat, blinking a couple of times “I don’t know.”
He swallowed, trying to find words once again.
“Listen, I…”
“It’s okay” nervously you tightened your grip on his shirt, now anxious of letting him go “we don’t have to talk about this today or tomorrow. We can just… forget it happened.”
Slowly, Megumi nodded.
“We can just let it be… for tonight.”
“Yeah” you pulled him close again, his body relaxed as he followed your movement and searched for your lips once more.
“Yeah, just for tonight…”
• 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄
Toge’s eyes followed you around as you picked and discarded objects from the first aid kit. At first he was annoyed at how much you had insisted on taking care of the wounds your last fight had inflicted, but at a certain point he had stopped complaining and just… stared. Now, you knew Toge wasn’t one to say much, because he couldn’t, but even when he didn’t say actual normal words he also wasn’t one to shut up. There was always some 'okaka's and 'tuna's and he would gesticulate here and there, he just had to let you know his opinion on absolutely everything. But now… he was absolutely silent.
You walked over to the kitchen counter, where he had sat down begrudgingly and now he was just lazily waiting.
“Bend over a little, will you?” you sighed, wet cotton in your hand.
His lavender eyes stared curiously, but he did as you asked and moved closer so you could reach for his face. There was a bloody scrape right next to his brow, product of a bad landing during the fight with the curse. You held your breath to gain courage and put aside your romantic feelings for the boy, then reached to cup his cheek with your left hand in order to keep him steady and started cleaning the almost dry blood.
He winced, a pitiful expression appeared on your face.
“Sorry” your voice softened “I’ll be finished soon, don’t worry, this is the last one.”
You expected him to say something, he would’ve usually just muttered a 'shake' or something, and yet he didn’t. When you were finally done you sighed once again, lowering your hands and grasping the edge of the counter.
“Alright, that’s it, why aren’t you speaking to me?” Toge raised a brow, as if your question was ridiculous to him “don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”
He pressed his lips against each other and then shrugged.
“Are you mad at me?” your brows almost touched, his eyes widened.
“Okaka” he immediately shook his head.
“Oh, so now you’re talking” he snorted, finally letting a small smile shine through “there’s something off, I can tell…”
He bit his lip and shrugged again, this time pointing to his head with his index.
“Thinking?”
“Shake”
“About what?”
His eyes seemed to shine in a peculiar way, trying to hold back a smirk. It was almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that question for a while. Toge pointed at you, made a small heart with his index and thumb, and then pointed at himself. You blinked about twice, blankly.
“You’re thinking… about you and me?”
He squinted and motioned 'more less', then repeated the previous gesture: you, heart, him.
“You’re thinking…” you heart him. Suddenly your eyes widened, a blush rapidly crept up your face “you’re thinking i like you?”
Toge then grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
“Huh” you exhaled nervously, eyes shying away from him “right when i thought i was the best at understanding you seems like i still don’t get what is going on inside that head of yours.”
He chuckled, his right hand searched for his phone in his pocket and then quickly typed something up in the notes app. You just expectantly watched him as he conveyed his thoughts into written words.
“I’m not thinking you like me, i’m thinking i know you like me”
“Narcissistic much?” you quirked one of your eyebrows and he snorted “what makes you think that?”
“Just the way you look at me, and the way you act around me. Panda had pointed it out before but i’m just now thinking maybe he was right”
“I treat you just like all of my other friends!” you looked up at his eyes again, this time in defiance, but he tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief “alright then, what have i done with you that i wouldn’t have done with anyone else?”
With a smile, Toge rubbed his cheek and then placed his index right on top of yours.
“Blushing?”
“Shake”
“You’re insinuating that I have romantic feelings for you, of course i’m gonna be embarrassed!”
Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Then, he cupped your left cheek, raising your face towards his and supporting your chin with his ring finger and pinky. You frowned, quickly catching up with the fact that he was holding your face in the same way you had done just moments before.
“… I was just taking care of you…” your whisper worsened your blush.
“always”
He chuckled at your shocked expression, the sound waves of his harmless words making you shiver. It wasn’t everyday that he’d risk speaking normally.
“… well, yes, i care for you”
“a lot” you bit your lip, there was no denying that, so you swallowed your nerves and looked away, he snickered “you’re cute”
Once again the surprise froze you, the power in his voice making your body tremble, what he had said made a sweet nervous feeling flutter around your stomach. He leaned in, you held your breath. Toge placed a lovely kiss on your lips, and you delicately but firmly kissed him back, the sliding of his lips on yours enticing and elating. A soft wave of cursed energy flowed through your mouth, but the moment he slid his tongue on your lower lip and you opened your mouth it rose in intensity. You had to cling from his shirt to keep yourself steady, the moment his marked tongue brushed against yours a sharp wave of electricity ran down your throat, pulling a whimper out from your vocal chords.
He pulled back to look at you and you panicked, embarrassed.
“I’m- oh god i’m so sorry!” your face was burning red at that point “it’s just that- i can feel your cursed energy.”
His eyes widened with surprise and worry, hopping off the counter his hands grabbed your shoulders.
“Takana?!”
“I’m fine! I’m totally fine” cupping his face you tried to comfort him, and it worked, he relaxed, but you pulled him closer again, your noses brushing “it felt… really nice…”
You lips searched for his, Toge smirked in amusement to your reaction, but he complied. So slowly, he kissed you again. The feeling of his energy running trough you seemed to make the blood in your veins rush in bliss, pulling sounds from the depths of your chest. Suddenly his hand slithered to the back of your head and he deepened the kiss, the mark on his tongue making contact with yours and making you gasp and jolt against his body. Toge giggled, but caught you in his arms, resting his back on the counter.
“Come on Toge, won’t you have mercy on me?” you complained, Toge shook his head slowly, and by the way he smiled you knew he was about to pull one of his stunts.
“Be louder” his lips immediately crashed back onto yours.
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bountycancelled · 2 months
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decisions
luke castellan x child of hecate!reader
requested: yep! I hope you like it anon
warnings: allusions about death, but no character dies.
content: yall, it's 1 am rn, and I just wanna go to sleep. it's unedited and nothing bad happens I promise. I'll do a proper content thingy in the morning. pls enjoy while I pass out.
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"you know those kids are probably gonna have nightmares for at least a week, right?"
you didn't need to turn to know who was behind you as you leaned against a tree trunk, toying with a twig in your hands. Luke castellan seemed to have an affinity for interrupting you anytime you found solace in being alone. you didnt know how he just... knew, when and where to find you during times like these, but he always did. you found yourself minding his presence less and less as time when on.
"they should consider themselves lucky, I was debating whether or not I should just summon a ghost for them tonight, but I figured they couldn't handle it, and this camp doesn't have any trauma counselling so." the leaves on the twig in your hand withered at an accelerated place in your hands, and a part of you felt bad. you usually kept your distance from anything living since you knew your touch had the possibility of having an adverse, and sometimes deadly affect, but tonight was just one of those nights.
Luke chuckled at your words, plucking one of the now wilted leaves from the twig in your grasp as he spoke up once more. "you know, I actually want you to help me with something, if you don't mind. I need help deciding whether or not I should do something."
you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look. "you know I can't make decisions for you. I don't have the ability to know what consequences you'll have to deal with."
"isn't hacate the goddess of crossroads?" Luke countered, a small smirk on his face. you knew that he was only pestering you because he thought it was funny that you always needed to explain your abilities and your godparent to people, but you couldn't just keep silent at his bait nonetheless.
"that doesn't make me some kind of fortune teller, I can't decide for you which direction to go to when you reach a fork on the path. I just have a vague understanding over what you're currently debating if you should do."
"okay okay, no fortune telling. but can you at least point me in the right direction? it doesn't matter how vague." he asked, and you tilted your head to stare up at the starry sky, because you knew that even in the dark, Luke could convince you to help him with nothing but a pleading glint in his deep eyes.
he didn't relent at tour silence or your avoidance of his gaze, uttering a small "please?" which finally broke your resolve.
you took a deep breath, finally looking at him once again, your face deep in concentration. "not a guide either. but I get the sense that... if you don't do what you're thinking of doing, you'll regret it." you felt a bit lightheaded afterwards, but the tree you were leaning against was enough security for you.
Luke on the other hand didnt seem to think so, showcased by how his hands immediately went to your shoulders in an effort to keep you up, while also unintentionally coming closer. a bit too close for comfort, but you were too foggy for the lack of distance to hit you yet.
he nodded at your advice, biting his lip before speaking once again, not missing the way your eyes flicked towards his lips and then back to his eyes, almost instantaneously.
"then I'll just go ahead and say it, I like you. a lot." he had expected a few different reactions, you immediately jumping into his arms and accepting his confession (his personal favourite hypothesis), you shyly stating that you felt the same way, you being shocked that he had feelings for you at all (he liked to believe that he wasn't entirely obvious) but he didn't expect what you did next.
instead, you blew air from your nose, giving him a look he couldn't quite place. "you have horrible taste. and you're also delusional. we've had maybe 4 conversations the entire we've known each other, and you like me?" you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at the words you were about to utter. "but I guess that makes me delusional too, because I feel the same way."
he pouted at your words, feigning hurt with a hand placed on his chest. "you wound me. if I had known you were gonna be this mean... I would've confessed sooner." he added with a slight smirk, trailing his other hand from your shoulder down to your waist, leaning his face towards yours.
you were quick to shut down his advance, maneuvering your way out of his hold. "one thing you're gonna need to get used to, castellan. no touching. at all. at least, not until I'm sure I can control my ability. you have a goodnight though." you called out as you walked away from a now needy Luke, leaving him leaning against the tree.
he quickly followed after you, trying to plead his case. "no touching? that's insane, how could I not touch you? I'm not afraid of death, especially if it comes from my hands on your body, or vice versa. I'll happily forfeit my life for a kiss. come on, I'm fine with just a peck. actually, no. I take that back. if I'm gonna die, we need to make out before I go."
you simply shook your head, reiterating your rule, unable to stop a grin from forming on your face. you stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a serious look in your eyes. "... okay. but just a peck. im serious."
it was not just a peck. but luckily, Luke made it out alive. (though, he seriously wouldn't have minded if he didn't.)
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norrussell · 6 months
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Christening | Lando Norris⁴
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Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader
Summary: Lando bought a new car, but you think there's one thing still missing for it to be a complete experience
Warnings: smut, no time for plot we're jumping straight into it, semi public unprotected sex
A/N: Well I just couldn't resist when I saw Lando in a lambo, I had to write this little scribble and I bit off the nail gel from my papaya nails while writing this just so you know. Now I'm going to sit in a timeout after this, thank you
Lando picked you up in his new car in front of your flat where you’ve been waiting on the sidewalk. The sleek dark blue car pulled up to the curb, its engine purring softly. Lando leaned over and opened the passenger door for you, a charming smile on his lips.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “Hop in.”
You couldn't help, but feel a flush rise to your cheeks at his words. Lando had always had a way with words, and his confidence was infectious. You slid into the car and settled into the leather seat, taking in small, but still luxurious interior.
“You traded jolly for this?” you remarked, admiring the car. “What kind is it now?”
Lando grinned. "It's a Lamborghini Miura," he said. "Just got it yesterday."
You whistled. "Impressive," you said, running your hand over the dashboard. "But how does it drive?” you glanced at him, your voice dropping to a seductive octave.
Lando's eyes flickered with desire as he revved the engine, the car vibrating beneath you.
"Let me show you," he said, his voice husky.
Without another word, he shifted the car into gear and the powerful engine roared to life. The car lurched forward, and you couldn't help, but let out a gasp of excitement.
As Lando sped down the streets, you felt a thrill run through your body. The way he handled the car with such ease and control was intoxicating. You watched as his hands expertly navigated the steering wheel, his eyes focused intently on the road ahead. You bit your lip and pressed your thighs together, wishing he was navigating something else.
“How do you like it?” he broke the silence, pulling you out of you trance.
“It’s nice,” you huffed. “But there’s still something missing.”
“Like what?” he frowned.
“We need to christen it.”
“What? How do you christen a car?” laughing, he switched lanes.
“Drive to the cliffs and I’ll show you.” you muttered, unable to resist the temptation any longer.
Lando glanced over at you, a devilish glint in his eye. "You sure you can handle it?" he asked, his voice low and playful.
You gave him a sultry smile in response. "I can handle anything," you replied, your heart racing with desire.
Lando chuckled and pressed down on the accelerator, causing the car to surge forward. You gripped the edge of your seat tightly, feeling the wind rush through your hair as the car sped down the road.
As you approached the edge of the cliffs, Lando slowed down, the car cruising along the winding seaside road. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the landscape, making it look even more breathtaking. Lando pulled the car over to the side of the road, the car engine idling quietly. He turned to look at you, your eyes locking with his.
“Now what?”
“Lando,” you started. “I wanna ride.”
“You… you want to ride the car?” his eyebrows knitted together, a slight line of concern forming in the middle. “Babe, I’m not sure that’s how-”
“No, silly,” a helpless laugh escaped you. “I. Want. To. Ride.” you put your leg over him, moving in between every word until you were sitting flat on his lap. “Can I ride, Mr. Norris?” you whispered against his lips, your noses brushing together.
Lando's breath hitched in his throat as he felt you straddle him. His hands instinctively went to your hips, holding you tightly against him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath you, and it made you feel powerful, knowing that you had this effect on him.
"Fuck, you're so sexy," he groaned, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss.
His tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring every inch as you moaned against him. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below and the smell of the salty sea air added to the seductive atmosphere. Lando's hands roamed over your body, trailing down to your ass as he pulled you even closer. You ground your hips against his, feeling the heat between your legs growing with every passing second, his hardness pressing against your core. You couldn't wait any longer.
“Let’s make this car ours.” you whispered into his ear.
Lando could only nod, with lips parted and breathing shakily, as your hands snaked down to unbutton his jeans and free his straining erection.
The thrill of the moment turned you on even more. The look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you straddling his lap was absolutely hypnotic. It made you feel wild, like a woman possessed. You bit your lip, your hands trailing down to the base of his cock.
He sucked in a sharp breath as you wrapped your hand around him. You could feel the veins pulsing beneath your fingers, the skin hot and smooth. His eyes widened as you squeezed him, gently at first, and then with more pressure. He let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your skin as you started to stroke him.
“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned as you slid your hand up and down, squeezing harder with every stroke.
Your hands were coated in the warmth of his arousal, his desire spilling over. You felt your own wetness pooling between your thighs, as lust washed over you. You teased the head of his cock with your thumb, feeling the tiny beads of pre-cum at the tip. He whimpered in response, urging you on with his eyes.
You gasped when suddenly Lando lifted you up, moved your panties to the side and rested his tip on your entrance, your juices trailing down on him.
“Oh, Lando, please…” you were the one urging now, gripping his shoulders for balance.
“I could, but,” he gave you a cheeky smile. “Are you licensed to ride me?”
"I think I proved you time and time again, but if you need a reminder..." you trailed off, moving your hips and sliding down on his length, gasping as you took him in, your wetness enveloping him. He was thick, thicker than you had ever felt before.
“Fuck,” Lando panted, throwing his head back against the headrest. “You’re so tight.”
“Lando,” you whispered, lowering your hips. “Just fuck me already.”
You could see the restraint in his eyes as he opened his eyes and gazed at you, his body shaking with desire. A groan escaped his lips as you thrust your hips, taking him in even further.
You moved your hips back and forth, your heartbeat quickening at the delicious feeling of him filling you up. Your body trembled, your muscles aching for more. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every second, his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a moan of excitement as the car started to rock, his thrusts getting more urgent.
“God, y/n,” looking at you with wonder, he groaned. “The way you look right now... that's so fucking hot.”
“And what about now?” you asked, shifting slightly so that you could feel him hit a different spot inside of you.
“Yeah,” he moaned, his head falling back. “That too.”
You could feel yourself getting closer, your breathing becoming more ragged as the friction against your clit grew stronger. You could hear Lando's breathing growing louder and faster, echoing in your ears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you for a kiss. The look in his eyes was almost too much to bear. You had never seen such raw, intense desire. You closed your eyes, feeling the pressure building up inside you.
Lando’s fingers dug into your skin, urging you closer. You could feel him getting harder, his cock throbbing inside you. It was almost more than he could handle. His hands gripped your hips as you rode him, thrusting his hips up to meet yours, his eyes pleading with you, begging you not to stop.
"I'm gonna… I'm gonna cum." he moaned.
"Cum for me, Lando," you whispered into his ear, your lips pressing against his skin. "Cum inside me."
Lando let out a loud grunt and thrust his hips up as deep as he could, feeling your muscles spasm around him. You threw your head back, your body trembling with desire as you felt his warmth flood into you.
He let out a lungful of air, his head resting against the headrest as you slowed your pace, his cock softening inside you.
“That was amazing,” he whispered, reaching up to caress your face. “Thank you.”
You took a few moments to catch your breath, leaning in to kiss him softly. The sunlight had vanished, and the orange sky had turned a dark shade of purple. The air outside had cooled, the wind picking up.
You looked down at him with a small smile, your heart twinging. “It was a perfect ride.”
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bits-and-babs · 1 year
Note
Mutual Masturbation with Joel Miller? 👀 could we be so lucky ??
-ˋˏ 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 ˎˊ
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— pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader
— word count: 1k
— warnings: mutual masturbation, [Snape voice] “obviously”. voyeurism, dirty talk, the ol’ switcharoo at the end. Not proof read.
joel miller masterlist || main masterlist
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Fuckin- It was so fucking hot.
The sunshine thumps through the windscreen and into the black interior of the pickup truck. Appropriated by Bill to finish this smuggling mission, Joel insisted the battery wouldn’t survive the journey to Pittsburgh if he turned on the air conditioning. Not even for a second.
Sticky. You’re sweltering, the beads of sweat sticking the fabric of your linen shirt to every inch of your torso. Rolling your head back against the headrest, you let out a soft whine of complaint. It’s not even the suffocating Pennsylvania temperatures that tortured you anymore. No, it’s the ardent pulse settling between your thighs. It’s Joel.
His eyes are settled on the dusty road, watching intently for hunters who might be stupid enough to tempt fate. He’s so calm that you’d be forgiven for thinking the heat doesn’t affect him at all if it wasn’t for the sheen of sweat that glossed over the skin of his brow, the wetness in his hair.
You can smell him. Joel smells like musk, like dirt, a tinge of whiskey that he always liked to drink and the bite of death- the sweet tang before decay. It shouldn’t be attractive, shouldn’t even be pleasant, but it’s Joel, and it makes your heart slam against your ribs as you swallow back how much you need him.
“Stop your scowlin’,” Joel’s voice is throaty, half asleep after hours of silence settles between the two of you. The engine's rumble nearly drowns him out, but you hear him.
“M’not,” you rebuke, keeping your eyes forward and avoiding the silver of the wing mirror where you would no doubt find his tawny eyes boring into you. Your answer is quick, too quick, and suspicious.
“No?”
“Nope.”
God, you want to fuck him so bad.
Hesitating momentarily, you finally pull your eyes over to his body. His knuckles drape over the steering wheel, delicate with the leather. The denim of his jeans is dark with his sweat, sticking so closely to him you can see his thigh muscles shift when he pushes down on the accelerator. There’s a bead of perspiration running down his throat, dribbling down the collarbone exposed by his open shirt, and you whimper when it soaks into the fabric because you would have licked him clean-
“Can touch yourself, f’you want.”
Joel’s tone is so lazy it almost masks how filthy his suggestion is. Your attention snaps up to the wing mirror, finding those deep irises settled on your expression.
“I’m not—“ you scoff, but Joel jerks his head just slightly. ‘No’.
“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart,” he insists, the term of endearment dripping with patronisation, “You’ve been rubbin’ your thighs together since we joined the highway.”
Swallowing thickly, you smother your denial like Joel suffocates your propriety. The air is no longer pulsing with heat but with tension. Joel’s waiting, watching for you to give in. Fuck, you’re buzzing.
You can’t anymore.
Shoving your fingers down your cargo pants, you graze your fingers over the seam of your panties and let out a trembling breath of relief. They’re soaked, your cunt practically dripping.
“Don’t you stop,” Joel insists, and when you glance up, you can see his knuckles are white against the steering wheel now, his eyes flicking between the road and the reflection of your pleasure.
You aim to appease him, rubbing your throbbing clit with the pads of your fingers and melting into the humming pleasure it elicits. Brows pinched together, you push your body back into the seat and rock your hips upwards.
“Unbutton them.”
You do. You raise your free hand and pop the button above your naval, using the free space to work your hand under the elastic of your panties and roll the drag of your fingers over your clit.
“Joel-“ you exhale shakily, body trembling with need.
His right-hand breaks from the wheel, palming himself through his jeans and squeezing at his growing erection while he watches you.
“C’mon Darlin’. Keep goin’,” he whispers, unzipping his jeans and working his cock out of his boxers. “You look so fuckin’ good; look at your tits.”
He’s rambling, talking so much more than he usually does. In your haze, you wonder if he’s got heat stroke.
Joel slams on the brakes, jolting you forward in your seat. What the fuck?! Your free hand darts out to hold the dash, gasping his name in shock.
“Joel-!”
“Fuck-“ he rasps, paying no mind to your half-hearted reprimand. His hand reaches over to cup at your breast and squeeeze. The linen of your shirt is see-through with your sweat, sticking to your skin and pert nipples showing through. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, letting out a thick moan as he ruts into his fist.
Joel is so sexy like this. It’s like he’s lost his mind, fucking his fist and squeezing his weeping head. His greying hair is slick with sweat, swept back against his skull. A burgundy flush tints his cheeks, blurring the sun spots on the bridge of his nose and the peaks of his face.
“Joel,” you whisper, watching him roll his hips upwards, seeing him swipe his thumb over the head of his cock and swear the precum across the reddening skin. “Joel, tell me what you need.”
You ask because it’s obvious. The burning arousal, the building orgasm as you tease your clit, the need you’d felt since you joined 83. None of it had compared to the desperation Joel had been so expertly hiding from you.
He tremors, sweat weeping down his temple as he shuts his eyes, tilting his face towards the car's roof. You can see him thinking, can see him chastising himself and recalling that it’s a bad idea to sleep with your snuggling partner.
“Joel.”
“Fuckin’ come’ere,” he gasps out like he’ll die if he’s not inside you within a second. Joel’s lips are crashing onto yours, bruising them as he grasps your hips and hoists you across the console to the driver's side.
-
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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months
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Simmer #4
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CH4. 0800-Awkward | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
Eddie’s van was cleaner than you expected and it smelled like mint gum and coffee. There were sheets of paper on the passenger seat he cleared for you with quick hands, boyish scrawls of ink noting down recipes and ingredients, a page of music in between. 
Music blared from the radio when Eddie turned on the engine and he scowled at the noise, bashing the button to turn it off so you were both squished between awkward silence instead. You put your hands on your lap, sitting up too straight, throat tight. 
The quiet enveloped you both. 
“Where am I takin’ you?” Eddie asked gruffly once he turned out of the parking lot. The rain was still bouncing off the roads, the sky dark and angry, navy coloured clouds blocking out all the light. “You live near Robin, right?”
You nodded, pulling at your knuckles until you gave in and picked at a nail, nervousness clawing at you like a persistent puppy. The boy beside you made your stomach tumble, and you weren’t quite sure why yet. “Yeah, just off fourth and Maple,” you told him. “But you can drop me off at the pharmacy, it’s only, like, a ten minute walk from there.”
Eddie scoffed at your suggestion, like he’d do no such thing, but he didn’t say anything else. So you spoke instead, your heart in your dry mouth, watching the boy’s profile, wondering how someone so pretty could be so damn mad all the time. Was it just you?
“So, uh, is Wayne your dad?”
Eddie didn’t take his eyes off the road, he just stepped on the accelerator a little too hard when the lights changed from amber to green. When the engine stopped yelling, he answered. “He’s my uncle.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. Something told you that asking anything about Eddie’s father would result in a very quiet, very tense ride back to your apartment. “He’s real sweet— your uncle. He’s been super nice to me.”
“Wayne’s nice to everyone,” Eddie replied shortly and it hurt like a kick to the stomach. 
The breath left you and you deflated, just a little. The skin around your thumb was becoming raw from your picking. You couldn’t help it, even if you muttered it as you looked out the window. “Clearly it’s not a family trait.”
“What?” Eddie’s voice was all surprise, even the van juddered as he pressed on the brakes a little too hard. You glanced over at him, chin ducked down, fingers torturing the ones on your other hand. Eddie was all raised brows and parted lips, an almost curl of amusement on them. “What did you say?”
It was a dare, a challenge. A ‘go on, say that again. Are you brave enough?’  
You glared at him, just like he loved to do to you so often. “I said, clearly, it’s not a family trait.”
“What does that mean?” Eddie laughed, a rough bark that told you he didn’t actually find you funny at all. 
You were a built up dam, spilling over the top with a new job, new friends, a new apartment in a new town. It was scary. It had been hard. 
You burst. 
“You’re so mean to me,” you told him hotly, “all the time! And then you apologise, only for it to last until the end of your shift. I know I’m not like, the best waitress— I mean, I’m hardly Nancy, but I’m trying! I— I haven’t done anything to you.” You sniffed, you wobbled. Tears threatened you both and your voice came out a little higher now. “Have I? If I have, I didn’t mean to.”
You dragged a hand over your face and when you looked back to the boy, Eddie looked horrified. He was pink in the face, eyes darting from you to the road and back again, his finger curling around the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. He didn’t say anything. 
“This is so fucking stupid,” you muttered to your lap and when Eddie slowed to the next stop sign, you flung a hand onto the door handle. “Just drop me here.”
The sound of the rain slapping the pavement only grew louder when you managed to open the door a crack and it seemed to spur Eddie into action. He leaned over you and grabbed at your hand, using it to pull the door shut again. It snapped back into place and Eddie was scowling when you swore at him in return. “Fucking Christ, woman,” he huffed. “I’m takin’ you home, alright? You’ll drown out there.”
“It’s a bit of rain, Eddie,” you snapped. “I lived in Chicago, I’ll survive some water.” Your ferocity was short lived, because you gave in with a huff, eyes watering once more as you pressed yourself against the seat and crossed your arms in defeat. 
There was a voice in your head, someone from an old job, an old classmate in middle school, your mom. It didn’t matter who, they were all cruel. Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby. 
“Can you just - fuck - can you just let me talk?” 
You watched as Eddie licked his lips, maybe out of nerves and he gripped the steering wheel harder still. You thought he’d maybe yell at you, maybe he’d tell you exactly why he was so hot and cold with you, maybe he’d explain in detail why you’d managed to piss him off. 
Instead, he asked, “why’d you leave Chicago?”
You stared at him. Was he joking? Was he playing some kind of weird joke? But Eddie waited, his face a pretty picture of sincerity and he glanced at you from the road as often as safety would let him. 
“Uh, I didn’t like it,” you scrunched your face at the memory, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Too big, too loud. I don’t really—” you searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t make you sound weak and small. “I don’t enjoy big cities. They’re too much.”
Eddie nodded and suddenly, suddenly, you were having a conversation with him. “I get that. My mom moved to Philadelphia, I don’t see her much, but I used to visit when I was a kid. Hated that no matter what time of night it was, it was never quiet - or dark - fuckin’ lights everywhere.”
There was a silence before you pressed your lips together and hummed. “Yeah,” you agreed. “You could never see the stars in Chicago. I missed that.” 
The rain was letting up now, nothing more than a horrible drizzle that you knew would still soak you to the bone, but it was quieter. Softer. The sky turned lilac, a hazy kind of purple blue as the sun tried to break through. 
“Where did you grow up?” Eddie peered through his curls at you, his fingers unfurling from the death grip he had on the wheel. He turned down Main Street, one hand in his lap, his head leaning back against the chair. “I know it wasn’t here - would’ve remembered you.”
“Fortville,” you told him, wondering if you just kept talking, your heart would stop racing at what he’d just said to you. “With my parents. It was a tiny place, not much there, probably even smaller than Hawkins and we had chickens and a dog my mom rescued just before I was born. I liked it though, it was a nice place to grow up.”
“Why’d you leave?”
You shrugged, turned to look out the window at the spots of rain on the glass, the kaleidoscope of colours they made now the sun shone through them. “Dad left, found another family. Mom turned mean.” You didn’t elaborate more than that and Eddie noticed how your voice turned softer, even quieter. 
“Fair enough,” Eddie answered and you couldn’t help but notice that when he wasn’t frowning, when the lines between his brows were gone, his eyes were the colour of dark chocolate, big and earnest looking. “I can, uh, relate. Kinda.”
A comfortable silence passed after that, one that came with the break of the clouds, dark shadows giving way to a late evening sunset, turning the wet sidewalks golden. You could feel Eddie stealing glances at you, quick flickers of his eyes that went from your face to where your fingers were picking at your nails on your lap. 
“You haven’t— you haven’t done anything to me,” Eddie murmured. You looked up at the sound of his voice, nails forgotten about and you saw that flush on his cheeks rise over his nose, turning it pink. He licked his lips and you tracked the movement, feeling the nerves roll off of him and fill the space between you. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t, I didn’t mean to be… mean.”
Eddie parked the van and you blinked, not even realising that he’d stopped on your street. Your apartment building was just a little down the road, waiting. 
“You lied to me when I came in that day,” you squinted at the boy, both of you cringing at the memory of Eddie pretending that he wasn’t who he was. That he wasn’t who you were looking for. “Why? Why did you do that?”
Eddie turned a deeper shade of pink, cheeks burning and he fumbled over his words before he swallowed harshly and turned towards you in his seat. He tugged at his curls, unsure what to do with his hands now he didn’t have the wheel to grip. “I’m, shit, I’m sorry ‘bout that. That was— that was just. Stupid.”
You nodded, looking at him with sad eyes that seemed to make his brow knit together in despair. 
“I don’t, uh, I don’t do well with like, making friends?” Eddie offered an explanation that he didn’t seem to be able to admit easily. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to smile at you, tried to ease the feeling of guilt that was swarming him. “I get stuck in my ways, y’know? I just go to work, go home, go back to work— new things—” Eddie glanced over at you with those big eyes. “—new people, make me kinda, nervous. I guess.”
You let your gaze settle on his, watching as he took in a breath and blinked. He looked a little dizzy, his confession making the air a little lighter. But something else lingered. It felt like glitter, a sparkling, pretty thing that swirled in the front space of the van. It was hopeful. 
“I get nervous too. Shy,” you admitted. You felt nervous now, tummy tumbling, a whole aviary loose inside. “About a lot of things.” About you, is what you didn’t say. “But I’m not a dick about it.”
 Eddie snorted and the sound made your lip quirk up, an almost smile. Eddie nodded, like he was agreeing with your passive insult, his lips twisting as he looked you over once more. His gaze was warmer than you’d seen it before, no furrow between his brow to make you wonder if he was pissed at you. Now he just looked… interested.
“You’re right,” he announced. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve been a dick. I’m sorry.”
“You said sorry earlier,” you reminded him. “With breakfast. But then you were a dick all over again. This hot and cold is making my head hurt.” You fiddled with the hem of your uniform dress, lifting powder blue away from your knee to pick at a loose thread. 
“I did, didn’t I?” The boy let his head fall back onto the window, a dull thud, curls sticking to the glass that was all fogged up from you both sitting talking. The setting sun made him golden, peach coloured cheeks and honey eyes, all bronze shadows and inky lines over his arms, peeking out from his T-shirt. “Was it good? Your breakfast?”
You rolled your eyes and Eddie grinned, truly, he beamed at you. It was a flirtatious thing, a pretty thing - it made your heart pick up and your breath catch in your throat because it was so fucking unexpected. 
“Yes, it was good,” you murmured, back to shy, back to dipping your chin and not really being able to look him in the eye. “But that’s not the point.”
“You’re right,” he said again. The boy seemed so much more agreeable out of his chef whites, without the heat and the noise and the constant sizzle of the kitchen. “I really am sorry - I hate, fuck, I hate that I didn’t make you feel welcome. That was shitty of me.”
You sniffed, pulled the thread loose and watched baby blue spring and curl around your finger. “It was.”
Eddie looked hopeful when you finally found the courage to meet his gaze again. He gave you a slow shrug, a half smile that still didn’t look fully sure. But he tried anyway.. “Can we start again?” He moved, shifting closer to you, close enough that the stick shift was pressing against the slight pudge of his tummy and you could smell his cologne, could see the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He held out his hand for you, silver rings and all. “Hi, I’m Eddie.”
He waited with wide eyes for you to reach out too, to slip your hand into his and curl your fingers around his palm. He did the same, engulfing you. His hands were much warmer, wider, bigger. Calloused and with silver scars, no doubt from too sharp knives. 
“It’s nice to meet you.”
—————
You burst through the kitchen doors just as you broke. A burn in the corner of your eyes, a hollow thud in your chest as the adrenaline of being yelled at surged through you. A family with too many kids to keep track of, a plate of fries on the floor before you could bring out every meal, a stressed out mother who took out her frustration on you and the fact you’d forgotten the soda one of the small boys was yelling about. She was sharp about it, loud enough for the other customers to hear and you watched as Robin frowned from the booth she was serving. 
She grabbed your elbow as you passed, feet threatening to stumble with how quick you moved, cheeks hot, throat tight. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. “Take a minute.”
But you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak before you could suck in a breath. “S’fine. It’s fine. I’ll fix it.” 
So you let the kitchen door hit the wall as you almost ran in, eyes blinking back tears of embarrassment and the noise was enough for Eddie to look up from the grill where he was flipping burgers. He frowned at the sight of you, but this time, he looked concerned. You rushed past him to grab the glass of soda that was sitting forgotten on a tray - next to the extra basket of fries the woman had requested, fuck - and turned on your heel to go back out the way you came. 
“Hey,” Eddie called after you, “what’s wrong?”
You brushed him away with a raised hand, the other holding the tray of missed items and you didn’t trust yourself to look back at the boy as you rushed back out the door. You sniffed and blinked before you put on a smile, approaching the woman who’d loudly berated you in front of the entire diner. 
“I’m so sorry again,” you whispered as you placed the drink and fries on the messy table. One of the kids screamed and you flinched, trying your best to keep the smile on your face as the woman turned to you. “If there’s anything else I can get you, ju—”
“If there’s anything else I need, I’ll get it myself,” she scoffed meanly. Her voice was too sharp, still too loud, a biting thing that dug into your arm and wouldn’t let go. “You got a pretty face, honey, but that’s not gonna get you far. Can hear that empty space in that head from all the way over here.”
You blinked again, uncaring that a tear slipped out, a hot drip of water down one cheek. You kept smiling. In fact, you smiled all the way back into the kitchen before your breath stuttered and your face crumpled. 
“Hey, hey, c’mon.” Eddie. At your side, a hand catching your elbow, fingertips grazing your skin like he was still too unsure to hold you fully. “C’mere. It’s fine.”
He led you through the kitchen, hand guiding you so your blurry eyes didn’t lead you into the corner of a station. There was something spicy cooking in a pan, garlic and chilli and soy that Argyle took over stirring as Eddie left it alone in favour of you. Jim must’ve heard the commotion in the dining room, ‘cause he made a rare appearance outside of his office, hand holding onto the door frame as he leaned out, frowning at what he saw. 
“Chicago,” he called through the kitchen, voice booming over the radio, the sizzle of the grill, the drone of the vents. “You good? You wanna talk?”
You turned, bumping into Eddie’s side and shaking your head, all whilst trying to smile and appear like you were absolutely fine. Totally normal. Definitely not crying like a baby. You cringed, turning back around and ducking your chin to hide your glossy eyes, your wet cheeks. 
“S’fine, Jim,” Eddie called back. “I’ve got her. Jus’ give us five minutes.”
“Munson, you got burgers on!” Your boss called back, you heard him sigh and Argyle told him that he’d manage. 
“Five minutes!” Eddie said again, his voice sharper and louder than before and you were moving faster to the back door, bypassing the walk in altogether. 
“If they burn, that’s too much money to get thrown in the trash, Eddie,” Hopper complained. “That’s prime fuckin’ beef from the Sinclairs, Eddie and I don’t got time to get Lucas back out for another delivery— hey! Are you listen—”  
Eddie ushered you out of the fire exit, blue skies and too bright light making you squint, a rush of hot air that was heavier than the kitchen, muggy and smelling like cut grass and the smoke that came from the vent on the wall. The door snapped shut before Jim could finish talking. 
The silence was a warm thing, cloying like the summer afternoon, the edge of a heatwave, the steam from the kitchen that lingered in the small alleyway out back. You brought the heels of your palms to your eyes, pushing there meanly as you sniffed a little wetly and tried to stop your bottom lip from trembling. If you faced the crumbling wall, maybe you could pretend Eddie wasn’t there, watching you. 
“Hey, c’mon.”
You groaned. 
“C’mon,” Eddie coaxed again, his hand pulling at your wrist, urging you to stop hiding. “You gotta stop letting customers get you all upset like this. ‘Specially the ones that are utter assholes.”
“You heard her?” You asked weakly, embarrassment crawling up your neck. You knew he would’ve, shit, Wayne probably heard it all the way down the street. Of course Eddie heard it from the kitchen. “God, that’s so—” you let out a small groan of anger, a soft wail that was tinged with a little shame.
“No, no, stop that,” Eddie frowned as you buried your face in your hands once more. He got you by your shoulders, palms and fingers curling over the bone there, impossibly wide, engulfing. You turned soft for him, letting him manhandle you until you were facing him, brows crinkled, your cheeks warm. “She was a bitch. You’re okay, it’s alright.”
You sucked in another breath, one of those awful ones that hitched and made your throat close up a little. It was hard to look into Eddie’s eyes. They were big and warm and earnest, crazily so, the colour of burnt honey and he was painfully close. The alleyway pushed you both together, space limited between the walls, the empty pallets, the stacked up crates. 
“She was out of order, yeah?” Eddie continued softly, his thumb pushing softly into the meat of your shoulder, drawing circles through your uniform. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re all just human here, Chicago. It’s fine.”
You nodded, numb. Tears still stained your hot cheeks, salt gathering in the corners of your mouth and you felt embarrassed at the reaction, the white hot rush of anxiety that gripped the back of your neck as soon as someone raised their voice at you. You blinked again, feeling heavy, another fresh wave of tears making your vision turn into kaleidoscopes. You scrunched your face, annoyed with yourself, head tilting back to the strip of blue sky you could see between the buildings roofs. 
“God, I’m so fucking lame,” you groaned. “So stupid.”
You brought your chin back down to just catch the boy smiling, a dopey, soft thing that made you think he was gonna laugh at you. He did, but it wasn’t mean. In fact, Eddie’s laugh was a damn pretty thing. Scratchy and raspy and warm, enough to make you stop screwing your face up and blink at him. 
“You’re not lame,” he told you firmly. He dropped his hands from your shoulders now that you weren’t intent on hiding. You found you missed the weight of them on you, a grounding feeling that helped the tears subside. “Or stupid. Shit, kid, you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”
“I’m always forgetting stuff though,” you argued. The sun was a blazing thing above you both, hot on your head, your shoulders, the back of your neck. Your uniform itched under the heat and you were backing away into the shadows along the line of the diner wall. Eddie followed, shoulder to shoulder as he leaned against the brick, lounging enough to bring him to the same height as you. “I’m messing up orders and I keep walking into the same stupid table - even though it’s always there! I got a bruise on my hip the size of a fucking peach,” you grumbled unhappily. 
Eddie snorted at hearing you swear, a cannonball of a word coming out of your sweet mouth, usually talking softly and shyly at him and customers. He knocked your shoulder with his and tutted. “You’re still new,” he shrugged when you scoffed. You’d been at the diner for almost two months. “Get out of here with that, you are. You’re in a new town and a new job. Give yourself a break.”
“I’m just— god.” You bit down on your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m such a crybaby, I hate it. I must look like such a mess.” Your eyes felt sore, your cheeks puffy and warm, all too familiar and just as embarrassing as it was when you were ten, fifteen, twenty years old. 
Eddie just shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his chef whites. He looked at your face, just for a second, before ducking his chin and studying the concrete below his feet. “Nah,” he said quietly, “you look pretty like always.”
It was quiet for a second or two, the surprise on your face morphing into a crooked smile, a quirk of one corner of your lips at the boy’s words. You sniffed and laughed a little watery, a shy sounding thing that made Eddie blink at you. “You’re being nice to me,” you told him.  
He grinned like he couldn’t help himself, a sharp, sudden thing that made his face look even prettier. Curls spilled from his poorly tied bun and his cheeks went rose coloured, more blush than flushed from the heat. He knitted his brows together in faux confusion, tried to act too cool, too blasé. “I am, aren’t I?” He huffed. “Weird.”
You shoved at him in jest, your hand on his shoulder and he barely even budged. But you felt a thrill in touching him, your hand just by the muscles in his arm, where you knew a tattoo lay, curling around a bicep that you couldn’t see under his uniform. It was easy to joke like this, to smile and wipe your eyes one last time when Eddie was playing nice. 
You felt like a teen with a crush, that lovesick, giddy type of softness settling in your chest and it purred when you looked at the boy. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Eddie got prettier when he smiled at you and when he reached out to straighten the pen that was about to call out of your chest pocket, you were done. A goner. 
You wanted to ask if this made you friends. 
Instead, you swallowed your embarrassment and hoped you hadn’t been staring. “Thank you,” you murmured shyly. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Eddie pulled open the fire exit and waited for you to enter first, holding open the door as the noise of the diner flooded back out to you. Kids yelling, the grill popping, the coffee machine whirring. 
“Would you rather Jim gave you one of his famous three minute counselling sessions?” Eddie winced theatrically. “I haven’t had one myself, but rumour has it there’s a stress ball and some talk about toughening up and how the world just ain’t fair.”
You laughed, walking back into the kitchen with Eddie by your side. Your shoulder brushed against his arm and you shook your head, looking up at him with a heat in your cheeks you were sure he’d be able to notice. “No, m’glad it was you.”
You must’ve surprised the boy, because he blinked as he stopped at the grill. Argyle had flipped all the patties and left the spatula by the countertop but Eddie didn’t take his eyes off of you as he grasped it. You watched his brows lift a little, mouth parting before he closed it again and nodded, looking a little numb. 
And then: “cool. Yeah, no, good. Come get me next time too.”
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sadfury · 7 months
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❝ slow baby? ❞
smut warning
Rafe loves rough sex but sometimes you need delicate sex and when you ask him to go gentle, he smiles, nodding entering your pussy nicely.
« you like it when i’m gentle? » his deep hoarse voice breaks the silence of your sighs.
« you like it slow baby? i can go slow » he kisses every parts of your body, taking your hand in his, softly planting kisses on your fingers.
« let me take care of you baby, just take it like a goodgirl… » he moans, sliding his dick on your pussy, slowly. the thursts are so delicate and deep, he sighs deeply, touching your clit to make you cum hard and intensely. he listens to you moaning, his dick grows harder inside of you.
« let me take care of you baby, let go, just come on my dick… » he sighs. he smiles watching you, arched back and closed eyes, he kisses your open mouth.
« yeah baby you’re so beautiful laying there… taking my dick like a goodgirl » he praised, accelerating the movement of his fingers on your clitoris. you were closer and he kisses your neck, his breath making you shiver.
« that’s my girl, you deserve it, just come my love » kissing your shoulders, he runs a hand on your hair, he wants to make passionate love to you, his hands are so delicate yet so strong and so big. he raises his head to look at you in the eye as you come on his dick.
« oh baby you- oh feels so good babygirl » he smiles, closing his eyes to feel you pusey squeezing his hard cock.
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bones-ivy-breath · 1 year
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Elegy in the Form of a Pomegranate by Brooke Matson, from In Accelerated Silence
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Text
Jealousy
Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Warnings: +18 contains smut
Summary: One night in a run down bar Dean Winchester has no choice but to reveal his true feelings
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You could feel an intense gaze on you from across the bar as the influence of alcohol starts moving your hips for you. The bass of the music moves through you as you dance to the song booming through the bar. Your hands floating over your body as you move to the beat flawlessly thanks to the drinks you already had in your system. You feel the gazes mounting and thankfully so as you look up and see a small blonde next to Dean desperately trying to pull him into conversation and pull his eyes away from the girl of his dreams. 
In that moment it was an impossible feat, all Dean could focus on was the sway of your hips, how your hands roamed over your clothed curves gathering the attention of anyone with a pulse and eyes. His hands clenched his beer while the tone of the blonde standing next to him gets blurred into the music and he starts to notice how many eyes are on you. The girl dancing, his girl dancing. He excuses himself without even looking in the direction of the blonde next to him and starts to shimmy his way through people to get to you.
His breath is caught in his chest as he finally reaches you holding out a hand to stall you in your place from dancing to the song booming throughout the bar. He looks cold into your eyes and firmly says
“Lets go”
“Where?” you reply
“Anywhere but here”
“Thought you were busy” You say scanning over the bar looking for the girl that was previously trying to get Dean's attention, as Dean grabs your arm and starts dragging you towards the exit.
“Busy trying to get your attention, but clearly plan A failed. B it is i guess.” He says gruffly and without a glance, as the cold air of the night spreads over you and the bar door slams shut behind the both of you. Dean is still dragging you along the way. However his hand moves from your forearm to your hand. He's gripping you tight as you start to walk upon the 67 Chevy impala.
He flings open the passenger door and guides you in with an air of annoyance. You watch as he walks back to the driver side through the windshield, he flings his door open and slides in. The silence is tense and can be cut with a knife as the engine roars to life and he speedily pulls out of the bar parking lot.
“You started this” you say finally cutting the tension without taking your eyes off the road speeding beneath the car
He shoots a glare over and readjusts his grip on the steering wheel
“Yeah well I'm finishing it too..” He shoots back without tearing his eyes from the road. “I'm tired of this game… you're mine, I'm going to give you a reason to start acting like it.” His knuckles tighten on the wheel, and the gas slightly accelerates.
Your mouth goes slightly aghast as you take in his side profile. As you take in him. Dean claimed that you both not being officially together was something created for your own safety. That he couldn't chance losing you but right now that didn't matter. You could tell by the grip he had on the steering wheel and the shade of green his eyes were. You belonged together, and in this moment more than ever. 
The car slows to a stall and the engine abruptly shuts off when you’re finally broken from your thoughts and feel your door open. You turn and see Dean waiting with his hand out for you to take. The annoyance has mostly left his face and all that is left is desperation. You slowly reach for his hand and he lifts you out of your seat and shuts the car door behind you as you both walk hand in hand to his motel room. No dragging, no annoyance, all of that was left at the bar.
He messes with the key for a second and the door opens and you both step inside and the instant it's closed and you can feel the hardness of it pressed against your back. Dean has his hands firmly on your shoulders holding you against it. Your breathless staring into eachothers eyes as he hesitantly leans forward and presses his lips to yours in a way you haven't felt before. It was passionate, tender, dare you say loving. His hands slide up the sides of your neck and tangle in your hair as the room is filled with soft moans and the slight sound of your hips moving back and forth from the door as you press against him.
He reaches for your thighs and pulls you up to straddle his waist. One hand stays on your thigh after you lock your legs around him and one travels around your waist, holding you as he crosses the room to the bed. He holds you as he leans over and gently lays you on the bed. The kiss never breaking. His arms cage you as he kisses you from above and it feels heavenly. He pulls back and his eyes flutter open and breathlessly whispers 
“You're mine…and I'm yours, and that's just the way it's going to be from now on” he softly brushes his fingers along your cheek and into your hair looking deeply into your eyes. The way he looked at you spoke everything you had been dying to hear. You cross your arms around his neck and bring him in for another kiss and then stopping again to answer 
“Sounds good to me”
He smiles brightly and seals the space between the two of you once again. He reaches for the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself slightly so he can pull it over your head. He tosses it to the floor and runs his hand down your torso cupping and pulling at your bra while stabilizing himself with his other hand.
You run your hands over his bare chest and stomach before toying with the waistband of his jeans. He takes over and slides them down and kicks them off somewhere. You're both breathless and desperate to feel every inch of each other. The kiss is feverish. Intoxicating.
He rolls you both over so you're on top, he pulls at every curve on your body. He leaves wet kisses all over your collarbone and chest while he easily undos your bra and it joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. His hands are everywhere, over your chest, around your thighs. He slips his hands into your pants and cups your ass and rocks your hips against his. You grab the waist band and roll them off of you having to stop straddling him to do so and the second they are stripped from your body you're pulled right back into his strong arms. You're wearing nothing but your underwear when he breathlessly breaks the kiss when he says,
“You're so beautiful”
It’s whispered so delicately against your lips, and you savor every syllable. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips reconnect as he lays you down with himself between your legs. He runs his hand between the small space between your bodies and to where you need him most. He can feel a slight wetness seeping through your panties and says 
“You're still wearing to many clothes”
He rubs small circles over your clothed clit. You're a mess with your head thrown back and moaning like crazy. Deans watching your face contort in pleasure and he can't help but feel proud of himself knowing he can make you feel better than any other man. He finally slides your panties down your legs and playfully throws them as far as he can. He's smirking and his thoughts are swimming when he reconnects your lips with his. He is full of passion and hoping that any fraction of what he's feeling is being conveyed through his kiss and his touch. 
His hands are running down your body and so is his mouth, leaving a trail of wet kisses and soft marks behind. You're his now. He places his mouth over your wetness and makes love with his tongue. Licking and kissing until one of your hands is running through his hair and the other is gripping the sheets for dear life. His name drops like hymns from your lips and it only fuels him to get you to the brink.
“You taste amazing" he looks up and says. He fully takes in your state. How desperate you are for him and it hits him even harder that he is the only man he ever wants you to look at like that.
He crawls up the length of your body and deeply looks into your eyes before leaning in and kissing you. You’re breathless and you take him into your hands and start pumping. You’re moaning into eachothers mouths. Dean feels euphoric. Between his feelings and the way you actually feel, he’s high. He takes himself from you and teases your entrance before fully inserting himself inside you. Both of your foreheads connect and his eyes are squeezed shut from the tightness. He kisses you softly and pulls away for fear he might not be able to breathe.
You're looking into eachothers eyes, the only illumination being the lights from outside seeping through the cracks in the motel curtain. He's never looked so beautiful. 
“You're gorgeous” you say, it being the only thing you can conjure at the moment.
He smiles softly still maintaining eye contact and even in the dark you can see color tinge his cheeks. He couldn't comprehend this was real. He starts moving slowly in response. Thrusting in and out. The heat and sweat is mounting between the two of you. You're both moaning messes. Each other's names falling from both your lips in praise.
Your back is arched and you're leaving marks on his shoulder from how hard you're gripping him. His thrusts become sloppy from just how amazing he feels, how you're making him feel. 
The tension in your stomach is building and you don't know how much longer you can take it when suddenly you cant anymore. You cum hard around him, squeezing every inch of him as he thrusts in and out. His own undoing building. He's thrusting deep and grunting hard when you then feel him spilling out of you. You're both moaning and looking deeply into eachothers eyes. He slows his pace to almost nothing and you're lost in eachothers eyes for good you must think, and don't mind either. He cuts the silence by saying, 
“I guess I should've done that sooner” still above you and caging you in with his strong arms. He lifts one to start soothing your messy hair and it results in a giggle from you.
“Better late than never” you say in a more serious tone and lean up to give him a peck on the lips. You feel him smile into the kiss and your mind is swimming knowing there will be plenty more to come in the future.
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stxrvel · 7 months
Text
hate is a strong word
summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
words: 6k
warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.
note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!
part 2
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Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.
He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.
You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.
You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?
You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.
But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.
“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.
Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.
“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.
Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.
“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.
“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”
His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.
None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.
“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”
“I did, Barnes, I-”
“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”
You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?
Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?
Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.
“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”
“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."
“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”
The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.
“Why can't you just listen?”
His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.
That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.
At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.
“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.
You couldn't take him back. It was true.
“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”
His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.
Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.
The day before.
“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.
“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.
You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.
“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.
“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”
Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”
“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.
“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”
You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.
You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.
You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.
You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.
“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.
“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.
“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”
“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”
“Wow.”
You heard his voice.
“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”
You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.
You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.
“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”
With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.
“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.
“Ha! Me?”
“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”
“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.
“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”
“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”
“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”
“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”
“That's what our job is all about!”
“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”
“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”
“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”
“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”
“At least my kill rate is minus five.”
“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”
“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”
“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”
“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”
“Ah, now you care about my life?”
Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:
“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”
Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.
Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.
Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.
“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”
Natasha shrugged under your gaze.
“We've known you to do crazy things.”
“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”
Five hours earlier.
You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.
Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.
Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.
Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.
Just like it happened on that mission.
“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.
You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.
“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.
You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.
“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”
“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”
“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”
Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.
“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.
“You see?”
“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”
Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.
“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.
Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.
“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”
Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.
You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.
The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.
Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…
Bingo.
“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.
You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.
“Is that it?”
“Just a folder.”
“And why does it load so slowly?”
“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”
Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”
“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”
The aforementioned just snorted.
The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.
Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?
At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.
“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”
There was no response.
You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.
The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.
“… of… moment!”
“What the fuck is he saying?”
Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.
But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.
A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.
“Barnes…”
And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.
“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”
The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.
You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.
You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.
Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.
You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.
It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.
“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.
“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.
“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”
At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.
Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.
“How's it going up there?”
“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”
You looked around.
Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.
But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.
There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.
“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I'm getting the pendrive.”
“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”
“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”
You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.
“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”
“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”
“Y/N! Get down, now!”
Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.
Ninety-eight percent.
“Y/N!”
“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”
“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”
“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”
Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.
“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”
His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.
“I'm almost there.”
You heard him grunt in the distance.
You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.
At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.
Ninety-nine.
You had reached the critical point on the ground.
The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.
“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.
“Your voices are distracting me!”
Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.
You had to get even closer.
You had to use plan c.
But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.
You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.
So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.
You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.
You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.
The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.
One hundred percent.
You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.
In the midst of a deep exhalation…
Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.
You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.
You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.
“Shit.”
He grabbed your arm and you ran again.
Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.
You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.
When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…
“Where's Steve?”
“If you had your fucking communicator on…”
Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.
You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.
You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.
And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.
“Get on.”
He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.
You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.
Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.
You went back on the road, for at least another hour.
Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.
“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”
His voice gave no room for retorts.
Present.
Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.
You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.
Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.
“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.
“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.
“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”
“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”
You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.
Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.
“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.
“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.
“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.
Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.
Wow. What the fuck was that?
“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.
Feelings.
Ew.
No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.
“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.
“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.
“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.
You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.
“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”
Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”
“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.
And that was the really strange thing.
You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.
“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…
“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”
You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”
“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”
“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.
“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.
Your head went blank.
“WHAT?”
Several seconds stunned.
Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”
“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”
Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.
“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”
Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?
“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.
“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”
“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.
“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”
“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”
“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”
“Because I thought you…! Argh.”
Bucky smiled again.
“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”
You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.
Were you asthmatic?
And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?
What the fuck was happening to you?
“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.
Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.
Did you just… imagine it all?
Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?
Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…
Oh no.
No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.
But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:
“Shall we fix something to eat?”
Oh, no, you were screwed.
--
a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3
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minty364 · 2 months
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DPXDC Prompt#128 Part 4
Danny could tell Jason was getting upset over the things he was telling him. He wanted to open up and tell him more about the past but it was painful. Eventually Danny might tell him the full story about how he died but for now focusing on what they needed to do from now would take priority. 
Jason took a moment to calm himself down before speaking and Danny was a little afraid of breaking the silence, “alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” Danny stayed silent waiting for Jason to continue, “I don’t like that belt, we’re getting rid of it, and then, I’m taking you somewhere safe.” 
Danny felt a little confused; it felt like Jason really cared about him even if they just met. The belt only shocked ghosts so he figured his soulmate would have little problems taking the belt off of him so he nodded his head. He was tired and even if he didn’t 100% trust Jason yet, if they were truly soulmates, Jason wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. 
Jason reached out and gently touched the belt. It gave him a little shock and he tossed it away as soon as it was off Danny, who felt his strength finally returning. He took a few deep calming breaths, it's been quite a while since he was able to just exist without something terrible happening. He had forgotten what it felt like to have full access to his powers and ectoplasm again that the feeling felt amazing no matter what pain he was in. He could finally tap into his powers such as accelerated healing, which was already working on the damage on his chest. He was trapped within that facility for only a few months but the damage was already done. Being forced under the knife for days at a time where they treated him more like a dead body than a person had really done a number on his psyche. 
“Damn, I hated that fucking belt… Thank you” Danny finally said, Jason was silent the whole time just watching his hand where the belt had slightly shocked him. 
Jason took a few moments to process everything that happened and then sighed, “Why’d it shock me? You said it was set to shock you right?”
Danny glanced away and took a moment to think of what exactly to say next, “I’m not 100% sure actually. The belt shouldn’t shock a normal person.”
“The fuck are you then?” Jason’s sudden harsh words shocked Danny and he knew he let something slip, “... I accidentally touched it when I was you. That wasn’t a light shock like I just got.” Jason was still looking at his hands but when he looked up to see how terrified Danny was his face softened a little.
Jason took a shaky breath before speaking again, “You’ve been through enough, I… know I can be… intense, I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.” When Danny stayed silent he continued, “You mentioned ghosts earlier.” Jason paused again waiting for Danny to respond. 
Danny wanted too but he felt himself a little too scared to respond. Jason’s raised tone reminded him too much of how the GIW agents would berate him over everything. 
Jason sighed deeply and leaned back on the sofa, “alright, I won’t pry, but I think I know why it shocked me… I’m just trying to figure out why it shocks you so badly.” 
Danny could tell Jason was just worried about him so even though he didn’t want too he spoke up a little, “I know the reason it shocks me…” Danny said slowly and softly, “and I want to tell you, but I’m honestly a little scared. I haven’t had to tell someone this before and it honestly isn’t a pretty story.” Danny’s words were genuine, he really didn’t know how to even begin to explain to someone. It felt like something he shouldn’t say, not that he didn’t want too but if felt wrong down to his core. 
Jason nodded his head, “I get it, I’ll be honest, my backstory ain’t too pretty itself.” 
Honestly Danny didn’t know how he felt about that, knowing he wasn’t alone in hardships was both alarming and comforting. 
Jason nodded again, “Alright, I get it’s a touchy subject, you can talk about it when you’re ready.” 
———
Jason was a little peeved but he got it, he doubted if he could keep his cool when talking about his own death and revival. He was wondering if maybe being thrown into the pits might have something to do with how he got shocked by that damn belt. Danny didn’t seem to want to talk about that and Jason wanted to know but he also didn’t want to pressure him into talking about something he didn’t want to. He was a little pissed at himself for how he scared his soulmate.
Jason was also pissed this was how they met, he wanted to be the one to pull that trigger and even though he thought it was kind of hot that his soulmate finished the job, he was also jealous he didn’t get to pull the trigger himself. Danny said he had a fear of clowns and he was determined to keep him safe.
Jason was a little bit of a romantic and he wished he had a proper meeting like most soulmates got but instead he got whatever the fuck bullshit life Danny had. 
Jason took a deep breath after realizing his thoughts were spiraling out of control. He still had to figure out what exactly was after his soulmate, romance could come after he knew how to keep him safe.
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satelitis · 2 months
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꒰ SIT NEXT TO ME ꒱. . . p jackson !
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pairing(s) : percy jackson x cabin 11! reader
in which percy jackson experiences love at first sight.
requested : yes or no.
!! content warnings : fluff, love at first sight, simp! percy, reader calls percy ‘shirley temple’ , reader is a child of hermes, totally isn’t based on me…. anywho!! 😇
robin chirps : i looooveeee percy!! and i’m cabin 11 what a coinkydink.
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“woah.” percy stopped dead in his tracks as him, grover and annabeth walked back by the ring of cabins.
“what?” annabeth chimed looking in the direction percy was.
“who’s that?” he asked the two, his finger pointing at you. as you laughed with one of your friends at a stupid joke you had made seconds prior. annabeth replied,
“oh! that’s y/n. cabin eleven, and you can definitely tell.” she added. percy stood there in awe. his heart was accelerated and his breath hitched, his eyes were drawn to you and you only, nothing could draw him away. well, except for annabeth smacking percy on the head and making a sarcastic comment.
“careful seaweed brain, might wanna shut your mouth before you start catching flies.” grover let out a small laugh. percy rolled his eyes, as he continued walking,
“i’m gonna go talk to her.” he told them, walking away from the two. annabeth muttered something under her breath as percy came up to you.
you turned your head to see a head of curls walking up to you, you watched as he stopped in front of you. he stood there for a second not saying anything but just looking at you.
“uh hey shirley temple do you need something or at i free to go?” you joked.
“hi.” he managed to get out after a small silence
“hi.” you copied. percy smiled awkwardly.
“i’m percy, percy jackson.” he said.
“i know who you are shirley.” you smiled, as you tied your beat up brown converse.
“you do?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
“uh yeah, everyone here knows you, you’re famous. almost as famous as your dear old daddy it seems like.” percy laughed awkwardly.
“and you are?” he asked.
“y/n l/n.” you stuck out your hand which had a good number of rings on it. percy was hesitant. “cmon shirley i don’t bite.” you joked, percy shook your hand.
you and percy locked eyes as your hands refused to leave one anothers. the moment was broken when you broke eye contact.
“well shirley i’m gonna go get water before i die of thirst so i’ll see you later?”
“yeah see ya.” percy smiled, you smiled softly as you walked away, your hand leaving his. percy was in awe as you walked away. he felt something in his palm. a small slip of paper with writing on it.
“meet me at the lake 8 ‘o’clock. see ya shirley. - y/n ”
percy couldn’t help but smile as he watched you enter the mess hall. this was going to be an intresting summer.
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