#The person who made that suit was a genius

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

TIME TO LOVE STEPHANIE BROWN aka SPOILER

She deserves JUSTICE!

Greek Goddesses! Another character that earned a love post from me, she needs the love, she DESERVES to be loved 💜💜💜 (spoiler alert, this post will be a loooooooooong 😅 )

I found out about her and other characters thanks to the wholesome slice of life comic Batman: family Wayne adventures months ago (I've been a DC Batman fan since I was a kid but I mostly watched shows that didn't include said characters before starting with the comics) and I fell in love with her, I mean she is all purple and her hero name is SPOILER 💘 so she could jump on criminals and say things like: SPOILER ALERT YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET BUSTED 👊😂 HELLO? INSTANT LOVE 💘and then I searched for her, read a lot of comics... and learned SOOO many outrageous things!🤬 Welcome to Hypocrisyland 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️. Here comes the RANT:

So she was an independent girl who made herself the Spoiler persona to "spoil" her wannabe Riddle father's evil deeds and she was a bit morally gray and cynical and wasn't particularly trying to be a hero or a vigilante and then after meeting Robin she started to change her mind inspired by HIM so all her thing started completely separated from Batman and technically it was by associating herself with Tim/Robin that at some point she started to want Batman's approval too and started the whole "fight to prove that I deserve a place here" thing but I think the amount of disrespect this girl faced is ridiculous! Treated like she was hopeless, useless, stupid etc... is she a punching bag? Treated like shit by so many characters for no good reason 😡 and I didn't see any satisfying consequence on them because of it, it was as if the way they treated her was justified because... I don't know, she was compared to Jason, to Dick, to Tim and to Barbara but when is only about her own person she wasn't good enough so they were hysterical about her hurting herself or dying faster than any of them 🙄, so everything is justified because they were worried?

Sorry but NO, I don't care if she isn't as skillful as characters like Cassandra or Damian that were raised to be living killing weapons by assassins or that she isn't intelligent genius detective level with a rich live background that could afford special ttraining like Tim or Batman himself, that she isn't some erudite engineer to build herself taser weapons like Harper Row or a suit flying armor like Luke Fox, that she doesn't have military training like Kate Kane, that she doesn't have hacker skills or a cop dad as Barbara Gordon, or she doesn't have powers like Duke or wasn't trained by ninjas like Selina Kyle or that she started only having good grades at gymnastics instead of having been raised in a circus by acrobats like Dick Grayson... I DON'T CARE, because she had a lot of qualities to start from Zero to Hero that are probably a lot more relatable than the other characters, most people don't have third rate criminal fathers but still she is a lot closer to the normal people than other characters and that makes her great, she is so resourceful even thought that unlike Batman and Tim she comes from poverty and can't get high tech stuff, yet she made herself a costume and helped take down her criminal father in a low budget! How come her resourceness in her situation wasn't impressive to them? How come that she had to endure being dismissed and underestimated constantly over and over until her death? It was exhausting to see! The fact that she started being resentful towards her father and wanted more revenge than justice is enough to ditch her as a hero? (Maybe the Avengers would have welcomed her better in that case 🙄) How much she had to train until the writers stopped making her look unfit and unworthy despite everything?

I don't get why they decided to make everyone around her be an asshole, a jerk, a hypocrite... Specially Tim and Batman (the AUDACITY of these two! Batman "fired" Her from being Spoiler like she being Spoiler had anything to do with him in the first place, entitlement much? Robin mantle I get it but The Spoiler mantle was hers from the beginning he can't fire her from it and then Tim went to comfort her, ironic since he kept telling her to hang the suit all the time, he also said being a Teen Titan was out her league when she was offered a place and told her she can't speak for herself, seriously you fucking jerk? Does he think he is Dick Grayson or what? 😒 the entitlement is spreading! and later when he became Red Robin he DEMANDED her to never be Spoiler again... Oh FUCK YOU 🖕🤬, mister "I discovered your secret so now you have to hire me as Robin" Worse part of that is that he said that after finding out things she was doing on Batman's orders wtf? So is bad always no matter if she disobeys or obeys Batman she can't win) They even made my dear Alfred be cold with at first because "she hurt Tim" but it was actually Batman's fault because he told her his secret 😤 well at least that treatment didn't last, bless Alfred for crying after her death when Dick asked about her and being so happy to see her alive he lose his British.

Why they hated her so much to the point they just doomed her to a horrible death that wasn't even heroic? She was tortured for days after provoking a gang war following one of Batman's plans trying to gain his trust back after he fired her from being his Robin for only 2 months! 🤬 2 miserable months!! because she disobeyed him (sure, sure, no other Robin BEFORE and AFTER her has ever disobeyed Bats orders right? 🙄) and the last person she sees before dying is him who was always comparing her to her male predecessors because he didn't like she was more questioning than them and then lied to her dying face about considering her a real Robin (by the way it felt so wrong that she became Robin out of spite because she saw a girl kissing Tim and she assumed he was cheating... I mean I can't blame her he did CHEAT on his first girlfriend with her, boy I hate this kind of teen drama) . They said it was "unclear" If he was telling the truth, HA! PLEASE. 🙄Of course he is not going to tell the ugly truth to a dying girl (he even "insulted" Her once saying she fights like a girl, wtf? She should have tell on him to Dinah lance) The ones who should have been there were Cassandra and Tim they actually did considered her a Robin, yep even Tim (he even mentioned a few positive things about her time being Robin) after he retook the mantle, they at least loved her! Even if they wronged her at least there was no doubt that they loved her... (Even if Tim's grief for her was short and too dry! 😡, They wanted people to forget about her so hard he was already having new love interests when not even a year passed, he suffered a lot more with his father and Superboy's death than with Stephanie 🤬, at least Cass cried and dreamed about her and thankfully Alfred and Barbara cried for her too even when they weren't that close to her at that time) Because seriously, this was a pitiful sad death, not bothering in making it a sacrifice or falling on combat saving someone noooo, she died after making a huge mistake trying to impress someone who never actually seemed to like her at all! In a gruesome and kinda sexualized way, nobody came to rescue her... Batman only showed up to pick her up after she escaped alone and tell her pretty lies before dying.

What a fucking Joke 🤦‍♀️ how humiliating for a character with a hell lot of potential WASTED! She didn't even get a memorial in the Batcave like Jason! Both their deaths were meant to be permanent but the comics only wanted you to remember Jason but not about Stephanie! Like he never existed! (And later the lame excuse for it🙄, like Batman suspected she wasn't really dead but he didn't tell Tim or Cass about that suspicion? None of them confronted him about the lack of memorial of her? Wouldn't they demand a memorial of a girl that meant a lot to them? He suspected she was alive but he never care to find her?🙄😑 Talk about crappy, tacky writing) it's like the character was thrown like garbage... Indeed that's what they intended to, her death was supposed to be permanent but fortunately for us fans rioted to demand her return very rightfully! 😤 and... Her return was still rushed, lame and lazy 😒 and they forgot to add a LOT of characters reactions seeing her alive 🤦‍♀️, like not even Cass??? I searched and never found a comic with her reaction after finding out she was alive! All out of camera, I hate that, is just so TACKY! Not an epic death and not proper comeback 😬😬

But then we had her run as the third Batgirl! Her solo as Batgirl did a lot of good for her character, with the exception of a few things I disliked like: her interaction with Catwoman that didn't make sense with how they met in the gangs war or that once again Batman has to have all the credit 🙄 because at the end he comes back from a not actual death and it turns out the whole make her a Batgirl was his doing and not Cassandra's doing😑 that would have been better because later they could rub it on his face but they couldn't because it was his idea 😬 but hey at least she got to SLAP him 🤣👏👏 that was epic BRAVO! Ahh that solo lasted too little! She got to put Tim in his place, she became friends with Supergirl and bonded with Damian as a big sister, I swear she should have spent more time with them, she demonstrated her bravery and willpower when she kicked the Scarecrow ass, finally earning Barbara's respect and admiration after she was so bitchy with her, its always so satisfying seeing characters standing up for her after so much mistreatment (i guess she had mixed feelings with the fact that Stephanie is a Batgirl that resembles more to her, Dick also mentioned that and thankfully he stopped being a jerk hypocrite with her too) and did I a mention that she FUCKING SLAPPED BATMAN? Because that is extremely important 😂 and Alfred defended her calling Bruce out in his bullshit test. Then for some stupid out of the blue reason she retired for a year... AFTER ALL SHE WENT THROUGH TO EARN THAT MANTLE? 🤬🤬🤬. Anyway she had to take the mantle back because she was chosen for some tournament where she had to fight Catman and there was Tim again looking down on her 🙄 "why weren't we chosen Cass we are better fighters she is a year out of shape" (Yeah who the fuck decided to make her hang the cape after everything? 🤡) at least Cass defended her saying that she is unpredictable, not like when they were training (Steph was still death) and out of the blue she unnecessarily tells him "you learn fast not like my last student" Really? I recall you enjoying training her 🙄 Sure Cassandra cried and dreamed of her but she used to look down on her a lot, the way she knocked her out in after being fired from being Robin was something we never see her apologize for, it was swept under the rug like never happened, Steph never confronted her about it even though she left her feeling betrayed 🤦‍♀️ and then besties again like nothing 😒. But at least she punched Tim for being an imbecile and then they got together again, so lovely, so happy, she was finally getting respect... BOOM: the new 52 reboot happened. 😃😃

The only thing I liked was that she got triple nunchakus as a personal weapon and that way she doesn't copy Robin's stick and the fact that she went through teen pregnancy and had to give up the baby because I hated that lazy plot that was only meant to make her and Tim have a closer relationship is not canon anymore(they really couldn't think of anything else to deepen their relationship than making her go through that pain so he could support her?😒🤦‍♀️ besides, she had a traumatic sexual assault experience as a child so I find hard to believe she would let herself get pregnant with the scumbag she dated before Tim, I hard to believe she didn't dumped him until he abandoned her in the earthquake) but her origin and relationship with Tim was erased along her time as Robin and as Batgirl(even thought that somehow thankfully now is canon again)and other character named Harper basically took a bit of Steph and Cassandra stories, mixed them and made them her own... pretty lame because Harper's concept was actually cool but she taking their place wasn't cool she also was the one to befriend Cassandra and had a conection with her first instead of Steph and the one who had to fight to be allowed to be a vigilante by Batman instead of her and she was the one that convinced Steph to join the fight instead of Steph wanting to do it by herself but the thing that infuriates me the most in this reboot was that she was accepted into the batfamily without much problem but altmost inmidiatly they made her go against them and againts Batman that this time wasn't being an asshole to her due to the apparent death of Tim Drake, Batman was even being affectionate with her, that hug he gave her to comfort her was precious 🥺 and so satisfying to see but then they had to ruin everything by making her be unreasonable and insufferable to create cheap drama 🤦‍♀️, now that she got the only thing she wanted pre reboot they make her want to walk away?🤡🤡🤡 not to mention I was already pissed of that in her solo as Batgirl they forgot what kind of interaction she had with Catwoman, basically Selina was the last person who was sweet and kind to her before she was killed, it would have been nice to see a proper reaction to her come back but the reboot made things worse! Selina was bitchy and mean to Steph even if she gave her some acknowledgement to her talent but she refused to grant my wish of training her and instead she was trained by the second Catwoman that honesty was disappointed but not that bad because I will like any character that would want to help Steph and Eiko (2° Catwoman) took her in for a while and bothered to teach her something so KUDOS 👍 for her! And Cassandra, Dinah and Barbara too.

And well I'm going to stop the rant here because aside of Tim dumping her and treating her shitty for no reason when they were finally happy so he could be with a random background NPC boy nobody cared about or even remembered so he could prove his bisexuality 😑😑😑, in general things are finally getting good for her: she is finally fully recognized as a Robin and she got another solo with Cassandra and Barbara as Batgirls that wasn't as good as the first one but it was nice and apparently she is now going to have her own team of young superheroes in a new comic.

I wanted to make an statement about things I like about her, the need to make her interact with other characters I think she would get along and my new Ship with her and Jason but all that will have their owns individual posts because I already wrote too much here, if you read it all thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏❤❤ if you felt offended or disagreed with something I said I apologize but remember that this is just the random opinion of a random Tumblr user so... See you in my next posts 😘💋💋

STEPHANIE BROWN DESERVES LOVE AND JUSTICE 💪💜

#dc comics #dcu #dc universe #stephanie brown #the spoiler #batman #batfam #timsteph #jaysteph #dc spoiler #robin #batgirl

[tonystark-official]

What's the coolest part about being Iron Man

The suit

#The person who made that suit was a genius #the pure artistry just in the gauntlets alone puts a tear in my eye #tony stark #iron man #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #queue #marvel comics

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

#miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #spider man x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara x reader #spider man #miguel ohara imagine #into the spider verse #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fanart #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv smut #atsv x reader #atsv fic #into the spiderverse

[wttcsms]

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS WITH HIGURUMA PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (and maybe some nsfw if you're up to it?)

a rendering of regret, hiromi higuruma ;

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader word count 4.1k synopsis like everyone else who suffers from early onset midlife crisis syndrome, hiromi discovers two important things: he wishes he could fix things between you two and YOLO. like any other man with nothing to lose, he finds himself leaving the city and going back to his hometown, ready to be back in your good graces. content contains drinking, small town that sucks the life out of you but is home as the setting, being disappointed that growing up does not, in fact, solve all your problems, hiromi's mother is heavily implied to have committed su*cide, smut (riding hiromi, creampie, drunk sex)

Returning back to his hometown shouldn’t be as shameful of an ordeal as he makes it out to be, but the thing is, when you make a big show out of outgrowing small-town life, only to come back when it turns out the Real World sucks the soul out of you, it all becomes startlingly clear that you were never supposed to make it out in the first place. Becoming a hotshot attorney in Tokyo quickly disillusions any and all grandeur of being special and adulthood for Hiromi Higuruma, resident prodigy. 

It turns out that city living is even worse than a quaint little town because, while there’s really nothing to do back home, there is entirely too much going on in Tokyo. The subway is always crowded and reeks of B.O., cheap perfume, overpowering cologne, and crushed dreams. There is never not a case that needs his immediate attention. With so many people existing all in the same place, at the same time, it somehow becomes increasingly harder to form real, human connections. 

He knows that his mental break was long overdue, and honestly, he’s just shocked that his snapping hadn’t occurred sooner. Innocent people get tried for crimes on a daily basis; he knows this. He goes into this job knowing this, and witnesses it firsthand. It shouldn’t hit him so hard, but you told him, once upon a time, that at his core, he’s a good person. Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t think that a good person would punch both the prosecutor and the judge, but it certainly made him feel good. 

The justice system is a sham, and growing up sucks. Hiromi thinks that for someone who popped out his mother’s womb a full-blown genius, he was a bit slow on the uptake when it came to realizing these two monumental truths. He decides not to waste any more time on trying to tackle the world’s problems on how he used to do, which is rationally and with a clear-head. Lately, Hiromi’s just been letting the intrusive thoughts win more often than not. He’s certainly not punching judges in the courtroom, but he tests out new experiences when he’s feeling particularly adventurous.

Adulthood is all about being able to take a bath in your suit and tie, and no one can give you shit about it besides yourself. There are absolutely no consequences to doing this, and Hiromi thinks people should advertise adulthood as getting to do batshit crazy things to yourself without fear of a scolding. That is much more realistic and sounds much more promising than bullshit like you’re going to change the world. The world sucks. Everybody sucks. Tokyo sucks. His hometown sucks. He sucks.

Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this life is you. You, Hiromi thinks, are the only person in the world who he can never look at differently. 

Hiromi realizes too late that when you spend your whole life running from something, it eventually catches up to you, and it usually does whenever you’re out of breath and decidedly not prepared for life and past regrets to start pummeling you into the gravel. Hiromi has spent literal years avoiding any trace of you, and now he’s back home, probably worse off than he was when he originally decided to ditch this place, and his biggest past regret is standing in the staff lounge, making coffee from the communal coffee machine.

A shame, really. It’s almost embarrassing to be a grown man who gets literal heart eyes whenever he sees you. It’s doubly embarrassing whenever he realizes it’s been a decade since he’s last seen you, and that somehow, you still manage to make his heart get all hyperactive on him. 

“Hi, stranger,” you say, pretending like the fucking ghost of Christmas Past isn’t standing in the staff lounge of the community college you work at. 

“Hi,” he says, because for all his booksmarts, he can’t seem to come up with anything better. When he first skipped town, not even bothering to walk the stage for graduation, there had been a lot left unsaid between the two of you. Bringing up the past now, dredging up buried memories, seems like a bad idea. 

“You must be the new law instructor.” 

“Yes.” Apparently, as eloquent as he can be when it comes to defending his clients, he sure as shit is awful when it comes to saying the right thing to you. Then again, there are no instruction manuals to reference when it comes to facing your ex-girlfriend from high school who you never actually properly broken up with, just ghosted. 

You stare at him, study him for just a second. Take in his tired appearance. The circles under his eyes. An apathetic expression you aren’t quite used to. Strands of hair still stick up a bit in the back of his head and a few more hang in his face — that, at least, is one thing that hasn’t changed. 

“Good for you.” You tell him, and you leave it at that.

Hiromi Higuruma returning back to this shithole is certainly not on your bingo card on situations you thought would occur this year. Growing up, you were convinced more than anybody that Hiromi didn’t belong here. Not because of his appearance or the fact that his household was infamous for being a loveless, lifeless shell of a home and family, but because if anybody was destined for bigger and better things in life, it certainly would be Hiromi. 

He’s always been smart, to the point where the teachers would practically give him free rein to do whatever he wanted to during class because he already studied the material beforehand. Usually, he just spent this time helping you with your assignments. You remember making a comment to him in high school one time. 

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?” You poke the book he’s ignoring in favor of helping you edit your essay for English Lit. 

“No,” he says, eyes glued to your paper. He’s erasing something. 

“Sure I am. You could be doing anything else besides editing my paper.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” 

“You shouldn’t.” He’s rewriting a sentence for you. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.” 

“You should stop helping me, Higuruma.” 

He finally looks up from the paper. “What?”

“You should stop helping me.” You yank back your essay, unceremoniously shoving it into your bookbag. “It’s bad for me in the long run.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just keep on depending on you, and then what am I gonna do when you leave?” 

You mention this hypothetical as if it’s a fact. As if he is one hundred percent going to ditch this town and everybody in it. At the time you’re saying this, he doesn’t even know he’s going to leave yet.

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“You’ll die if you stay here.” Looking back, it’s comical how teenagers have a bad habit of voicing assumptions and then presenting them as fact. Hiromi Higuruma is the type of guy who cares so damn much about people and the state of the world, no matter where he goes, death’s going to follow. Caring is killer. 

“Even if I do leave, I’d want you to come with me.” He doesn’t know why he says this, but he knows that it’s the truth. If you want to stay here, that’s the only reason he needs to stay. If you want to go, he’ll have his bags packed. 

You search his eyes, looking for a possibility that he’s just saying stuff to appease you. Apparently, you find the sincerity you’re looking for because you give him a bright smile, hands already digging in your bookbag in search of your now-crumbled up essay. 

“Pinky promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” 

He seals the deal by interlocking his pinky with yours. This is a sacred act. You made it a strict rule in your friendship, and Hiromi is a stickler for rules. You can’t break a pinky promise; it’s the type of vow that transcends legality. To break a pinky promise would be to break off your friendship, make it null and void. So, when the time to walk the stage and receive your diploma in front of the town comes, you’re confused as to why Hiromi isn’t there. He’s not home, either. 

Hiromi left, his dad tells you. He looks like Hiromi, but since that’s his father, it’s the other way around. The only difference, besides the fact that he is a grown-up, is that Mr. Higuruma has what you call dead eyes. Lifeless. Like, he’s looking, but he’s not really seeing what’s there. He talks funny, too. All flat and emotionless, like he’s perpetually unbothered. You can’t even tell how he feels about his son’s departure, or the fact that there’s a teenage girl on his doorstep at seven in the evening, still wearing your cap and gown. 

“Do you know where to?” You ask Mr. Higuruma, still hopeful, still feeling the ghost of his pinky twisted around yours.

“Tokyo.” 

That checks out. You always knew Hiromi was meant for something more. 

“I’m shocked he’s not put behind bars,” Yuki tells you, wiping down the bar counter. “Didn’t you hear what went down in the courtroom with him and that judge?”

It had made the news. You normally don’t care to tune in, but it was something that concerned Hiromi. Of course you heard all about it. 

“I just don’t know what he’s doing back here.” 

“This place is a dump. ‘Course someone down on their luck is gonna come slinking back in here.” 

“Yuki…” You look at your best friend. “Didn’t you technically come back, too?”

“Well I never said I wasn’t down on my luck, now did I?” You can’t imagine someone like Yuki having to come back home with her tail tucked in between her legs. Yuki is the opposite of a loser; while the world beats people to a pulp, Yuki curbstomps the world. If Tokyo managed to send Yuki and Hiromi packing their bags, you don’t want to leave your hometown. Ever.

You meet Hiromi in grade school. Your town is too small to actually have its own public school, and so all the kids from home walk the two miles to the designated bus stop where this ugly, wretched faded yellow deathtrap on wheels comes squeaking and squealing to pick you up and take you all to the nearest city’s school.

Everyone knows that you all are the students from the rinky-dink town that’s such a shithole that it can’t even produce its own school. Finding work in that town is hard enough as it is, but you grow up used to being surrounded by your other financial equals. It’s hard to find your footing amongst a crowd of kids who get new shoes every school year and can afford the fancy crayons. You know, the ones that aren’t just glorified lumps of colored wax that would probably work better as candles instead of cheap art supplies. 

Hiromi gets most of the city students’ attention, though. It’s not as if it’s a surprise to you that they like to pick on him for his nose — it’s like the joke’s practically staring them right in the face. 

You are surprised, though, that he takes it so hard. He’s sitting alone at the front of the bus, staring out the window, and you think you catch a tear running down his cheek. 

You know that Hiromi is always early to a fault; he waits outside for the bus a good thirty minutes before it’s even scheduled to show up, just to ensure that he won’t miss it. You have to get up extra early as a result because you think it would be better to try to make friends with Hiromi without an audience. 

Before you can lose all confidence in yourself, you go for it. You take one grubby little hand of yours and swipe awfully close to his face, nearly hitting his nose in the process.

“Got your nose!” You wave your hand in the air, smile slowly falling when you realize that he doesn’t look amused. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

“How was that supposed to help?” He doesn’t sound mean when he says it. He sounds curious, like he’s genuinely trying to hear you out. You will soon learn that that is the type of person Hiromi is. He might be the only person in the world who doesn’t judge someone within the first five seconds of meeting them. 

“Y’know, so when the other kids in school make fun of your nose, you know they’re lying.”

“How would they be lying?” 

“‘Cause I got your nose. How are they making fun of something they can’t see?”

Logically, young Hiromi knows that this is not the case. His big, fat nose is still smack dab in the center of his face, and the “nose” you captured is just your tiny thumb tucked under your fingers. Logical thinking is no fun, though, so Hiromi goes with it, and the two of you have been inseparable ever since.

Hiromi Higuruma has a lot of regrets, actually. In his mental tier list, the bottom of the barrel shit is made up of petty things, like not punching his grade school bullies in the face for being little assholes, or not trying Kitakata ramen when he had the chance. Then, there’s the stuff just a level above, which is less-silly things, like how he regrets the way he handled certain cases and the fact that in his haste to return home, he didn’t pack a pair of comfortable house slippers, and the ones he bought at the only convenience store in town feel too stiff. 

At the very top, his biggest regrets are all centered around you. This isn’t to say that he regrets you, but he does know that his treatment of you haunts him during the nights he lies awake in bed and wonders why the fuck life sucks so hard. He hates that he didn’t admit to you that he liked you sooner, that he wasted so many of his high school days awkwardly trying to hide the fact that he’s hopelessly devoted to you. He hates that he didn’t get a chance to take you to prom. He hates that he didn’t tell you that he was leaving, that he didn’t think to bring you with him, that he never called or texted after he left because he was too embarrassed and scared at the prospect of you not wanting to hear from him after how he left without a trace. He regrets not telling you why he left, that he caught his father and his mistress together, and how disgusted he felt at seeing such a sight. That the next day, he vowed to tell his mother, only to knock on her bedroom door (it’s no surprise that his parents never shared the same bed for as long as Hiromi could remember), and when she didn’t answer, he opened the door, only to be greeted by her still body in bed, three empty orange pill bottles on the nightstand. 

He couldn’t have stayed, and he was rendered speechless. Final transcripts had already been released, and walking for graduation was optional. Hiromi took whatever meager savings he had, clicked “accept” for his college admission to Tokyo U (full-ride, because if anyone was going to get a scholarship based on academic merit, it would be Hiromi), and skipped town. Everything in the world to him appeared to be in shades of black and white, the occasional bright orange catching his eye, haunting him, taunting him. 

Life is too short, though. Too short to waste time in bed, in an apartment he hates located in a city he despises, to look back at all his shortcomings. If he could go back in time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have punched that judge or the prosecutor (even if they totally did deserve it), and he wouldn’t have kept his acceptance into Tokyo U a secret from you. He would have taken you to prom, and he would’ve asked you to come with him to Tokyo, escape this dump of a town and take on the big city together. He thinks he probably would have hated Tokyo less if you were with him, you and your nonsensical logic that makes the worst things to ever happen to him suddenly seem bearable. 

He should tell you all of this, but he’s drunk because Yuki is manning the bar, and she pours with a heavy hand. He never really spoke to the blonde despite the fact that they grew up down the street from each other, attended school at the exact same time, same grade, same everything. The downside of living here, it seems, is that everyone you’ve ever known is entirely unavoidable. You run into them everywhere. You want to drown your sorrows in amber liquid served in questionable, grimy glassware, and the person aiding in your slow death is the very girl who used to wake you up in the middle of the night due to the sound of her revving up her obnoxiously loud and ancient (she claims vintage) motorcycle that she bought for cheap at a junkyard. 

The upside of living here, it seems, is that since everyone is unavoidable, you are running into him here. 

You take a seat to his left, conveniently leaving one barstool between the two of you. Yuki is joking around with you, saying something that makes you laugh, and the urge to do something very stupid builds up in Hiromi. He’s been totally chill with the whole “letting the intrusive thoughts win” routine, but he wants to handle his relationship with you with a delicate hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks you, hoping that his words don’t come out slurred. 

“I’d normally say yes, but Yuki gives me my drinks on the house.” 

Yuki yanks back the drink she made you. “If Ace Attorney over here wants to pay for your drink, you’re getting charged, hon. Sorry. Girl’s gotta make a living.” 

Conversation with Hiromi comes naturally to you. Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally. The alcohol helps warm you right back up to him, dormant feelings now coming back to life. You think you’re too old to have butterflies in your tummy when you make tequila-induced attempts at flirting with him (at least, you think you’re flirting; it’s been a while since you actually tried). You think that you definitely don’t give a shit whenever he plays along, because that’s just what he does, what he always has been doing. 

When he left, everyone in town was under the impression that Hiromi had been stringing you along. The fact of the matter is, you have Hiromi wrapped around your finger to the point where he doesn’t think he could ever get unstuck. 

Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally, and it’s only natural to have him walk you back to your apartment. It’s only natural that you invite him inside to “catch up” some more, and it’s only natural that “catching up” involves you grinding on his lap, sinking his body deeper into the pink loveseat in your living room. 

Your dress is tugged up to your waist because easy access means you don’t have to get naked to get dicked down. Hiromi’s suit pants are admittedly not made for quick fucks, but if there’s a will, there’s a way. His pants are unzipped, briefs adjusted enough so that his dick can unceremoniously be freed from its confines and make its way to where it truly belongs, which is buried deep inside the warmth of your cunt. 

Hiromi finds pleasure in the discomfort of it all. If he was doing this with anyone else, he’d be hyper aware of the stiffness of his dry cleaned suit, and how the loveseat seems to protest with the combined weight of you two rocking back and forth on top of it. He’d be too irritated with the way sex would wrinkle his clothes, and he probably wouldn’t even be this hard because he drinks so he has a valid excuse for never taking a woman home with him. 

Because it’s you, everything is felt to the extreme, but you have this way, this charm, this spell, that makes everything that happens to Hiromi better. The best. You are the best he’s ever had, and he thinks he grunts this into your ear as you rest your body against his, upper body limp and boneless, your lower half moving up and down, trying to get a good angle so his cock can hit right there.

He kisses your shoulder, and he experimentally thrusts up, and you let out a string of moans that are interspersed with little breathy fuck’s, and he thinks this might be one of his most favorite sounds in the whole entire world. So he keeps thrusting, keeps relishing in the way your walls seem to clamp down on him, keeps enjoying the way you hang onto him and whimper out his name. 

He is drunk, and he is in love, and he knows that he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking you boneless, but you don’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to mind when you kissed him first and started grinding on him, the catalyst to the situation he’s in now. 

He planned on telling you the truth, the story about why he left, about how he feels stupid on how he handled the whole situation. The bourbon he downed earlier this night seems to be affecting his brain, though, because all he knows is that there is only one confession he is capable of giving to you right now.

“I love you.” He groans, his hands finding your waist, gripping hard. “Fuck, I love you. Never stopped.” 

His cock feels too good when it's buried deep inside of you. You know it’s silly and stupid, but you want to tell Hiromi that you want him to fuck himself so deep that he can touch your heart with his dick. No other man would want to hear some creep shit like that, but Hiromi is Hiromi. He would get it. You drunkenly tell him your wish, and he lets out a little breathy laugh, rolls his hips, and rocks your world. 

“I’ll give it my best shot.” He says, and because the alcohol tells him that his sobriety makes him a bitch, he reminds you once more. “I love you.” 

You cum. The sex is drunken and messy, and while drunk sex usually happens in a blurry haze for you, you are seeing everything clearly. You can see the crease in between his brows as he concentrates on maintaining the perfect balance between relishing in your wetness and not overstimulating you. You can see the way his eyes greedily, lovingly, admire the messy sight of your joined bodies. You can see his nose, tall and as noticeable as ever, and so Hiromi. 

You want to tell him that you love his nose, but speaking is hard when he dicks you down like this. All you can do is press a kiss to the tip of it. This only makes him tighten his grip on your waist, his thrusts getting more erratic, and then you feel a nice warmth flooding inside of you. The two of you are rational adults, and rational adults know that cumming inside should be a no-no between two people who have yet to establish what the fuck you are to each other. 

“I love your nose.” You tell him, when you finally manage to catch your breath. He’s still buried inside of you, and you’re afraid that when he does eventually have to pull you off of him, everything’s going to come spilling out of you. The thought of separating from Hiromi makes you frown. You just got him back. 

“I love you.” He says back, for the nth time this night. Maybe he’s making up for lost time. Maybe he’s just drunk. You don’t care. Hiromi is back, and even if he leaves again, you’re happy that he’s at least here with you right now. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“If I tell you when I’m sober, will you believe me?” 

He’ll sober up tomorrow. If he tells you when he’s sober, that means he’ll have to stay. He won’t go. 

“Yes.” You say, trying not to reveal the fact that you already believe him. Hiromi is not as impassive as he thinks he is. “Pinky promise.” 

You feel the familiar warmth of his finger twisting ‘round yours. 

“Pinky promise.”

#hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #hiromi higuruma smut

[retroellie]

The Other Woman

Summary: After seeing Lila kiss spencer in the pool, all reason leaves your body and creates a jealous mess inside your head. You can thing of only one way to dull the ache of jealousy.

A/N: This lowkey sucks but it's whatever :) I'm so unmotivated and my writers block is terrible omfg. I hope y'all enjoy though <3

Warnings: NSFW, cheating(ish), L*la, Mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected sex, unexperienced spencer, normal Criminal Minds stuff

Word count: 7.6K

Of course, you knew you were acting like a teenage girl, the petty silent treatment was straight of a high school romance. Reid was just trying to do his job, he was told to do something, and he did it. So, you shouldn't be angry. He was trying to prevent another victim; he was trying to protect Lila. Fucking Lila. If it were anyone else, then maybe you would just be able to forget it, but it wasn't someone else. It was her. It was hot blonde, breakout movie star Lila. Her and her perfect body, pretty face, long legs, her beautiful smile, and her money. She was everything a man could want, so what stopped Reid from wanting it too?

It made you uncomfortable in the first place, him being the one to stay with her. You asked Gideon if maybe Elle could do it or even Hotch, but he said since Lila and Spencer were somewhat friends, it would make her more comfortable. But what about you? What about your comfort? You decided to leave your pettiness out of your work, keep your jealousy to yourself, and catch the stalker so you could get out of here, go back to your stupid life with Reid.

You were already feeling sick enough about the entire thing, she could steal Reid from you in a heartbeat and all you could do was let her... But seeing him in the pool with her, her only in a bathing suit and him soaking wet. It played with your heartstrings, wondering everything that could've happened. Spencer couldn't look you in the eye, even after you asked him if he was okay. He just let out a small hum, looking down at his gun while he tried to dry it off. You knew something had happened; did you even want to know? You asked yourself.

You had no choice since Morgan shoved the camera in your face. The pictures of Lila and Spencer, her lips on his. 'Of course, she looked pretty when she hungrily made out with someone' you thought, rolling your eyes mentally. Spencer just watched your face, as it contorted into an unknown expression to him. He was a profiler, yet he could never read you...you were completely foreign to him. It intrigued him when he first met you, it frustrated him. Spencer Reid was a genius, he knew everything. So, him not knowing your brain frustrated him. That's exactly why he fell in love with you, he had to work to understand you and he ended up falling in love with you trying to figure you out.

Spencer opened his mouth to explain himself, but you dismissed it by explaining how you didn't think that the man who took the photos was the unsub. You explain how "he was too cocky and too visible; the unsub would have been more careful than the trespassing paparazzi." You did have a new lead however and you didn't hesitate before you ran off to go follow it. You just wanted to get away from Spencer, you needed to be away from him. You should have heard him out, you would've heard him out but as said before... It was Lila. Girls like her always got what they wanted; they didn't even have to fight for it either. So, you knew how this went, Spencer would leave you for her and you would have to work with him for the rest of your life knowing... you allowed him to be stolen.

You eventually caught the unsub, well Spencer did. It was one of Lila's friends, Maggie. She was desperately in love with Lila but Lila wasn't in love with her back, she killed her victims to show her love for Lila. You somehow understood how she felt as fucked up as it sounds. You understand why people kill for the people they love, how they would do anything just for the person they love. You could see yourself doing that for Spencer, it scared you of what you were willing to do for him. After Maggie had been caught, Hotch told the team to meet back at the local police departments to make their reports. However, you headed back to the hotel, stating that you had fallen sick to Hotch. Obviously hotch knew, he wasn't stupid and he didn't need to be a profiler to know what you were feeling. You were hurt.

So here you are now, in your hotel room... alone. You were writing your reports for other cases, completely neglecting the Lila case. In the state you were in, you couldn't even think of a blonde woman without the heartbreak sensation creeping up again. You hoped to do other cases, the most gruesome cases... The cases with blood and guts would help make that feeling go away or at least dissolve the lump in your throat. You felt like you were 16 again, watching as your prom date went into the bathroom with the popular girl. Your stomach sank as you saw him holding onto her hand, leading him into the biggest stall... all you could do was watch. You suddenly felt every stitch of your dress, all your organs working together, every light molecule on your skin. It was hell.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at your door, your heart dropping as it did. You would think of years of profiling psychopaths, you would be able to handle a knock at the door. For some reason that knock was the scariest thing to you. You sighed softly, putting the paperwork that was sprawled out on the hotel bed to the side and throwing yourself over the side of the bed. You walked to the door, the cold air of the hotel room making you shiver. Your hand touched the cold doorknob, pulling the door open and seeing a figure. Your eyes adjusted and soon you were met with his brown ones.

"Hi..." He said, giving you a soft smile.

"Hi." You said coldly.

It was an awkward encounter for sure, something that happens often but it's more comfortable than this. As of now, all you could think about was Spencer's face smashed up against hers. You were now hyper-aware of everything around you, feeling as though you could hear the colors making up the room. Spencer just stood there, hands in his pockets and giving you that strange grin.

"You weren't at the police station... Hotch told me you were feeling sick." He started, trying to pick up a conversation but for the first time since you met Spencer Reid... he was at a loss for words.

You nodded, confirming Hotch's statement. You could tell what he wanted to ask, so desperately. You were a profiler, you could tell by his fidgeting hand, his eye twitch, the way he couldn't make eye contact with you for more than 4 seconds... He was holding himself back. Spencer knew he did wrong, very wrong. Not only with you but professionally. You're not supposed to kiss a civilian you are told to keep watch on as a federal agent. It's inappropriate and wrong... but Reid could care less about that fact, the kiss meant nothing to him. He was more worried about you. You hadn't talked to him since you saw him in the pool with Lila, you didn't tell him you were going back to the hotel, you didn't even kiss him goodbye before you left Lilas. You bit your lip softly, playing with the flesh as you looked down at your feet.

"Uh yeah..." You started, looking back up at him. "Must have eaten something bad or something..."

Spencer didn't believe you, not for a second. He was never good with social cues but at this moment, he could read the situation better than anyone. However, Spencer has never been in a relationship before... you were his first everything. He'd never been exposed to the petty drama that comes with having a girlfriend, so he wasn't too sure how to go with this conversation. He knew he did wrong, but how does he go about communicating that with you? He doesn't want to make it seem like you're overreacting or you are stupid for being mad... damn, maybe he's overthinking it now. If Spencer Reid is good at anything though, it's statistics.

"You know..." He starts, about to go on one of his Reid rants. "Statistically, 58% of the time people don't actually have anything wrong with their stomach. Mostly it's more psychological than it is physical. Mostly caused by anxiety, guilt or anger."

You were used to these Reid rants at this point. Being with Spencer Reid for 2 years and knowing him for even longer, you have a lot of useless information in your brain that he has nonconsensually given you. You let that information sink into the part of your brain that you will most likely not return to, not even going to attempt to comprehend what number he had just given you. Your face automatically contorted itself into a look that said "Please shut up, leave me alone, and never perceive me again.".

"You think I'm lying?" You ask, not sure whether you're actually offended or it's because you can't get the picture of her kissing him out of your head.

It wasn't Spencer's intention to make you upset, no... that's not why he came here. He just knew that it was deeper than a stomach ache, he knew that your mind was going wild with possibilities and him knowing you, he knew you wouldn't say anything about it. Spencer knew why you did the work you did, he knew you couldn't solve your own problems so you decided to solve others. That's why Spencer didn't wait for you to come to him because he knew you never would. Spencer shook his head eagerly.

"No! no... of course not." He blurted out, looking everywhere but your eyes. "I'm just saying that i think the stomach ache your feeling isn't really a stomach ache... maybe it has something to do with the thing that happened with me and Lila."

The sound of her name sliding off his tongue sounded so frictionless... so effortless. It made you wonder if your name sounded the same, suddenly you forgot what your name sounded like coming out of his mouth. You shook that feeling off real quick, hoping if you pushed it down far enough it would simply go away. You weren't stupid though, you knew what pushing things down would do. It would turn you into something not human, or maybe something that is between a human and something else... it would turn you into Maggie or maybe even the hundreds of people you catch a year. It's funny how you can figure out another person's shit so fast, yet you are still wondering what your shit even is.

You sigh softly, rolling your eyes as you step away from the door and making your way to the small hotel "kitchen". The only thing the kitchen was good for was making coffee or tea, something that you have been living on for the past couple of years. You've found yourself purposely making it bad, the BAU will ruin you like that. You poured yourself some coffee, hearing Spencer walk in and shut the door behind him.

"Or maybe I just have a stomach ache." You say softly, putting the coffee pot back and then pouring pounds of sugar into your coffee. "Besides, it doesn't really matter anymore. The unsub was caught, Lilas safe... we did our job."

Spencer bites his lip nervously, watching you bring your coffee up to your lips and take a swig. As said before, Spencer isn't good with relationships or girls... or really anything that isn't statistics and books, so he isn't sure how to tell you that he is worried about you. He likes you, he'd probably go as far as to say he loves you and he doesn't want this to end. He knows that this will not end well, that your bottled-up emotions will be the end of your relationship. Spencer notices all the case reports scattered over your bed, seeing how you haven't even started on the most recent one... lilas.

"I read in one of my books about human relationships that most relationships end due to no com..." He starts, being interrupted by your tired, jealous self.

"Please, Spencer! enough with the statistics..." You spit, almost yelling... something you've never done to read. You turn to face him, coffee cup still in your hand, burning your skin. "Just spit out what you're trying to say to me."

Spencer gulps slightly, seeing how angry you've already become and you've only bottled this much hatred for less than a day. He knows you don't mean to yell, he knows it. He knows this job does this to a person, makes them angry... messes with their head until they are only a shell of themselves. Spencer adjusts himself, not sure what he is going to say but his plan is just to speak... hoping that the words will form as he does so. He licks his lips, taking in a breath and facing you finally.

"What happened between me and Lila..." He paused, gathering all the courage and breath he had left in this moment. "It meant nothing. I mean yeah we kissed, I mean she kissed me. I told her I had a girlfriend, multiple times. She still did it and I was shocked that I let it happen... but I felt nothing. I swear. And I know you don't want to talk about it, it's uncomfortable and it hurts you too, but I want to talk about it because it hurts me when I think it hurts you. This job can take whatever it wants from me... but I can't live with myself if I let it take you from me." He rambles out.

His breath gets heavy, all the oxygen from his lungs being taken from that single rant. He could've gone on, he wanted to go on but the look on your face made him stop. You looked even more hurt... or did you look relieved... Spencer couldn't tell, you were too hard to read for him. You couldn't explain the feeling either, it was a mix of everything. It was a mix of guilt and content... but most importantly, lust. The ramble had your face heating up and your underwear dampening. You shouldn't be feeling this way at this moment, no... not when your poor boyfriend just poured his heart out to you. but the way his voice was whiny... the way he begged for you, the way his face was now flush... How could you not?

You set your coffee cup down, making your way over to his tall figure. His breathing stopped almost as he could feel your presence getting closer to him, he'd never felt this uneasy in your presence but in this moment, he was afraid of what your next move would be. You were now face to face with Spencer, looking up at him with doe eyes as you watched him nervously fidget with his bottom lip. This feeling you felt was not new, it was something you felt for Spencer when he did pretty much anything. The deep fire that sparked within your stomach was always there when around him, something you were able to control and others... Well, you had to strip him down right then. However, you had never felt this feeling be so potent, so overwhelmingly rich.

"You really mean it?" You said simply, wanting nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you more than you wanted him. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he nervously stood in front of you.

"Yes...I really mean it Y/N." He admitted, his voice laced with desperation. He just wanted his girlfriend, that's all he's ever wanted.

You grin softly, eyes slightly watering as you hear his confession. You knew that Spencer would do anything for you, anything. But hearing it... hearing it gave you a sudden power rush. It made your hands shake, complete dominance running through your body. Your grin caused Spencer to relax, knowing that maybe there was a chance you could forgive him. Your hand snaked its way up to his tie, playing with it. Spencer watched this action, and the sudden realization of how you were feeling crept up on his mind. You weren't the one for punishments, you believed sex should be something that is for praising the other... not punishing. However, the mere thought of you punishing Spencer made both of you weak in the knees.

"i want to believe you, Spence..." You spoke your voice slightly over a whisper. Your hands are still rubbing the soft fabric of his tie between your fingers, flicking your eyes back up to his. "But I can't when you're using that mouth to make excuses...."

You smile up at him innocently, as if you weren't teasing him. Spencer gulped down a whimper, your voice almost having him bust in his pants all ready. You yanked him down to your level by his tie, tugging on it roughly as you forced him to make eye contact with you. You took your free hand to push his hair back from his face, watching his tie rub roughly against his neck. You took your hand, leaving light touches all over his face... tracing every bump, every mole, every scar across his face. You thought he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, but so did Lila.

"What can I do..." He started, pausing his sentence as he basked in your soft touches. "to uh... to make you believe me?"

You let out a chuckle, your finger pulling down his lip and then letting it bounce back up. You bit your lip, trying to keep your dominant persona up, but something about the way he was so desperate to please you... the fire burned hotter deep within you.

"I can't tell you... guess you just have to know." You stated. You wanted to keep him on edge, make him more desperate than he already was.

Spencer moaned softly as your grip on his tie tightened, his air getting restricted now but he felt... oddly good. You two were new to having sex at this point, Spencer had just given his virginity to you not even 2 months ago. Yet you both have had sex so often that you both knew each other's bodies inside and out already. He didn't know what he liked or what he wanted, all he knew was he wanted you and only you for the rest of his existence. Spencer couldn't help himself anymore, he smashed his lips into yours. The kiss was full of desperation, his hands making their way into your hair, sometimes pulling but mostly he used it to keep you in place.

It was messy and very sloppy, it was like a normal makeout session for you. Spencer couldn't help himself but to be messy with you, he wanted so much of you that it made him claw at your skin. You didn't mind it, you let him explore your mouth with only his tongue because you fed on his desperation. Your hands made it up to his cheeks, pressing his mouth even closer to you. Your teeth clashed with his, tongues fighting with each other, squirming against each other. You both could have stayed like this for hours, probably coming undone just by kissing but you wanted more.

"Spencer..." You moaned out, pulling him away from you slightly. You looked up at him, the desperation in his eyes to keep going. His lips were kiss-bitten, his cheeks red and his eyes wet. He whimpered at the loss of your lips, breathing heavily as you examined his face. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

Your voice was demanding, causing Spencer to jump to what you wanted him to do. You watched him eagerly take off his shirt, his tie getting stuck and frustrating him. Then he worked his way down to his pants, taking off his shoes while he was at it. He left his boxers on, knowing that you would soon take them off anyway. He sat on the bed, waiting patiently for you, feeling your eyes bore into his skin. Spencer had a strange build, skinny and lanky but his muscles were defined. You would basically drool every time you saw it, the first time you ever saw him naked you swear you came just by the view.

"Good boy..." You said, walking over to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. You set yourself on his lap, straddling him as you watched his face turn redder than it already had been. "I have been so good to you haven't I Spencer?"

You sat down on his lap, feeling his cock rock hard against the inside of your thigh. You moved his hair from his face, his hair still reeked of chlorine which created another wave of deep jealousy. Spencer nodded rapidly, his words getting stuck into his throat as you watched his face for an answer. You grinned softly, nodding with him as he let out a little hum.

"Yeah..." You started, feeling his body shake with anticipation. You leaned down, leaving soft kisses along his cheeks as you ground down softly on him. "I let you cum when you want to, let you cum inside me, I suck your dick whenever and wherever I put up with your begging and call you a good boy..."

Spencer moans softly at your words, his hands making their way to your hips as he tries to grind you down harder on his cock. His senses are already being clouded with complete lust, his need to cum is at a peak already. You chuckle down at him, his pathetic moans already filling the room and you have not even started. You trail your kisses to his mouth, forcing the kiss to be softer this time but his lips want more.

"I mean even when I should have slammed the door in your face..." You snap your hips down harshly, watching him moan out loudly. "Here I am, still calling you a good boy."

Although Spencer's moans create a softness inside of you, wanting nothing more than to let him come undone as you praise him, the deep jealousy that has been lingering in the room is creating something inhumane inside of you. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to crave insults into his skin, wanted to push him to the brink, and then take it all away from him. It's how he made you feel, seeing him in that pool with someone like Lila. even if he didn't even mean to. You knew Spencer didn't want Lila to kiss him, part of you knew that and you wanted to slap her for even putting Spencer into that position. However, you could use this anger and jealousy in a good way, a punishment that would leave Spencer feeling like he went to heaven and back.

"y/n... god..." Spencer moaned out, grinding his hips up to meet yours. You grinned softly, moving your hand from his cheek down to his neck.

His neck was already slightly red from his tie, the soft bruise already peeking through. It looked down pretty on his skin, he looked so pretty broken down. You wrapped your hand softly around his neck, setting one last kiss to his lips before you slammed him down on the bed. He gasped softly, breathing heavily as your actions scared him. He was flat on his back now, looking up at you as you straddled his hips. You could feel him throb against your thigh, his cock wanting to free him.

You took the hand wrapped around his neck, trailing it down his chest, down his belly, down his happy trail, pulling his underwear down so only his cock could spring free. You tsked softly, looking down at him as he squirmed. His cock was flush red, dripping precum as it screamed to be touched. It never failed to amaze you just how flustered and hard you could make Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius, the boy wonder.... pretty boy. You weren't exactly what you would assume his type would be, not that you weren't attractive but completely different from Spencer Reid.

You two were like night and day, favoring different things yet being made for each other. Sometimes you would get insecure about it, especially when you two were very public about your relationship. How could someone who knew exactly what they were doing be with someone like you? You thought, sometimes it kept you up at night. How someone like Spencer could be with you, how he could look at you and see only beauty. It freaked you out to say the least and maybe that's why the two of you were in the position in the first place, your insecurities getting the best of you.

"So needy already... I've barely touched you." You tease, biting your lip at the sight of him.

You set your hand on his cock, leaving feather-light touches to it as he squirmed more. You gripped it lazily, moving your hand up and down his cock. Your free hand began unbuttoning your dress pants, zipping them down, and yanking them off your body. You teased Spencer about being the eager one, but you couldn't handle much more of him not being inside you. Spencer threw his head back as you continued to stroke his cock at a slow pace, his eyes shut tight as he was already on the verge of cumming.

"That feel good honey?" You asked him, sure that he wasn't going to be able to answer you. "feels so warm... so wet..." You teased, drawing out your words to push his buttons even more.

You leaned down, hand still pumping his cock as you started leaving soft kissing along his neck, something you knew he loved dearly. Your hand movements were sloppy now, encouraging him to grind his hips into your hand. His thrusts were sporadic, no real rhythm as he was so clouded with the thought of cumming in your hand.

"Feel so... feel so good..." He moaned out, his mind not allowing him to think of a coherent sentence.

That was all you needed to know that he was close, that in the next seconds, he was going to make a mess out of your hand. You pumped him a few more times, watching as his body shook slightly. But then as his orgasm almost washed over him... you pulled your hand away. He whimpered softly, eyes filling with tears as his overstimulated and teased cock throbbed. Spencer had never felt this pathetic, just like you said, you let Spencer cum whenever he wanted to. So you helping him to the edge just to take it away in mere seconds, made this boy into a whiny mess. He would even go as far as to say you spoiled him, always allowing him to make his messes anywhere and everywhere.

"What... why.." He stuttered, not sure what to say but he felt he had been robbed of a mindblowing orgasm. His pouting made you smile, seeing how worked up and ashamed he had become.

"Awe, I'm so sorry baby..." You teased, kissing his neck softly as he desperately tried to feel for your lips with his. "But only good boys get to cum..."

Spencer bucked his hips up into nothing, his stolen orgasm making his stomach ache. Spencer would do anything, anything... just for you to let him cum. He would beg and plead for it, he would murder for it. The mere thought of Spencer willing to do anything just for your hand, sent your body into overdrive, the power rush taking over your own senses until it felt you could only be satisfied by seeing Spencer cry. Spencer huffed and puffed roughly as you continued to lay your kisses on his neck, knowing how weak it made him. His breathing was irregular and it felt as though with every struggling breath, his air was being stolen from him.

"Fuck... please..." He whimpered out, his hands reaching up to your hips once more trying to grind your body against the aching cock. "I'm sorry okay... fuck... I'm so sorry, I'll do anything... I'll be such a good boy for you, just please... fuck please Mommy!"

The word stumped you and took you completely off guard. Spencer was very new to sex and you were new to sex with him, but Mommy?!? You would've never guessed Spencer Reid would have a mommy kink, you should've known simply because it was clear. Spencer Reid has mommy issues, so seeing you as dominant during sex was basically a given, you're a profiler for god sake. You stopped your soft kisses on his neck, bringing your head up to see his horrified reaction to his words.

He was taken aback as well, those words feeling so wrong coming out of his mouth but yet so arousing to him. He always felt the need to hold back the word when you guys had sex, out of fear and him being ashamed. He knew he was safe with you, but something about a grown man calling his lover mommy felt inappropriate to him. It might be his denial or him being sexually insecure, but it just felt weird to him so the only word on his tongue at that moment was "sorry". little did he know though, the word slipping from his mouth did wonders on you. Your face heated up, your cunt wetter than ever, and your urge to cum at a peak.

"I'm so sorry... that was really weird, I'm so..." He started but was rudely interrupted by a very annoyed you.

"Spencer... it's fine, you worry too much." You giggled, trying to reassure him that you were more than okay with his surprising kink. You leaned down once more, pecking his lips with yours to hopefully put him at ease. He eagerly kissed you back, once again pulling you into a sloppy kiss. "How about you show Mommy what you can do with that mouth huh?" You said in between kisses.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the possibility of how this night would end filling his brain. The shame he felt now was turning into something else, something enjoyable as you teased him about it. He nodded his head, agreeing to whatever you wanted him to do. You smirked, pulling your panties to the side and climbing up his body. Spencer wasn't sure what you were doing, never having been in this position before but his confusion was taken over by pure hunger when being face to face with your cunt.

"If it gets too much or you want to stop, tell me, okay honey?" You stated, looking down at him, his face already slick with your juices. He nodded, looking up at you with eyes that begged you to sit on his face.

You nodded back, getting yourself comfortable before lowering yourself down onto Spencer's face. He knew what to do almost immediately, licking your clit and nuzzling his nose straight into your cunt. Like everything Spencer when it came to sex, it was sloppy and eager. There was no real pace, just Spencer going crazy on your cunt. You couldn't help but rock your hips back and forth slightly, completely forgetting how good Spencer's tongue felt.

Spencer eating you out was no new thing, it happened quite often. He preferred when you two would use your tongues and fingers to pleasure each other. It felt more intimate to him and if he was being completely honest, he felt he was better with them than he was with his dick. He felt he had more control over you when he used his tongue, not to mention when you would touch him he would quite literally forget everything especially how to move his body. So eating you out made him feel more in control and in a career where he was always fighting for control, it was a nice change. Although this position you were in now, sitting on his face, was foreign to him, but he liked it.

You were starting to feel that coil inside you tighten, the sign that you were about to cum all over his face. You gripped the sheets, now moving your hips roughly to the movements of his tongue. Spencer had started sucking softly on your clit before teasing your opening with his tongue, he couldn't pick which he wanted to do so he tried to do both. For a minute there Spencer forgot he even had hands, his mind only on lapping at your cunt and tasting your juices flowing down his tongue.

"Spencer... fuck..." You moaned out, throwing your head back as you tried your best to stay upright. "remember your hands..." You directed him.

Spencer mentally scolded himself for that, knowing that in the past you scolded him for not using his hands. Spencer couldn't help it though, he wanted to taste all of you and his hands were the last thing he was worried about. Spencer brought one of his hands up to meet your cunt, digging his fingers into you. The feeling of his fingers exploring inside you had you grabbing at his hair, holding his face in place as you bucked your hips onto his fingers. Your movements only egged Spencer on, his fingers curling up to feel for your g-stop and his mouth latching onto your clit.

You were now the one who was a whimpering mess, curses fell from your lips and your hips forced themselves down onto Spencer. You were close, feeling that the coil became more tight as your back arched. Your thighs began to shake, your vision blurry as Spencer finally found your g-spot. It only took him only 3 curls of his fingers before that coil snapped.

"FUCK!" You screamed out, not surprised if the hotel heard you.

Spencer licked and pumped you through your orgasm, something you taught him how to do. You can remember the first time he had ever eaten you out, as soon as your cunt oozed out your juices... Spencer got scared that he had done something wrong, completely stopping his movements and cutting your orgasm short. You taught him that it was a good sign and what he should do while it was happening. You were proud to say that you taught Spencer right, you were the one who taught him how to please a woman... Can Lila say the same?

You hunched over on top of Spencer, shaking slightly as you recovered from your orgasm. Spencer slid his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth as he licked them clean. You watched as he did, the sight alone creating a new wave of horniness over your body. He wanted every little speck of you, wanting to taste everything you had and he would gladly enjoy it. You shifted yourself down Spencer's body, once again straddling his hips.

"Was I a good mommy?" He asked innocently, his voice almost a whimper. He looked innocent as ever, even with his face soaked with your cum, he just looked so heavenly. You placed your hand on his cheek, wiping off the mess you had created.

"So good my love..." You whispered, watching his face turn a bright red once more. The words "my love" echoing in his ears, making his cock throb more. "How about mommy take care of you now huh?"

Your words rushed straight to Spencer's cock, forcing himself not to cum just from your words. Spencer nodded, breathing heavily as you pecked his lips with yours. You could taste your own cum on his lips along with spencers cherry chapstick that he always seems to be wearing. You let Spencer explore your mouth once more, taking what he needed from you as you once again wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it up with yourself. Spencer bucked up to meet your hips, being the greedy little bastard he was and wanting to thrust himself into you. You chuckled at his neediness but gave into his wishes, slowly setting yourself down onto him.

"Fuc..." Spencer whined out, throwing his head back in bliss.

You didn't know what happened at first, thinking that maybe Spencer was just that excited to be inside you once again. Then you felt it, his hot cum coating your walls already. You hadn't even put him all inside you and he had already come. Spencer's face contorted into pure pleasure, nails digging into your hips as he drenched your insides with cum. He was too in the clouds to realize what he had just done, it hit him too suddenly and way too hard for him to think. but eventually, he came down and sudden embarrassment ran cold through his body.

"Shit... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just h..." He started, rapidly trying to apologize for cumming so early even if it wasn't under his control. His apologies got cut off by you fully sitting down on his cock, his cock now nestled deep inside of you.

Spencer once again through his head back, his words fading into whimpers and whining. You smiled at his reaction, your cunt feeling his dick get hard once more. Spencer never knew that he would be in this position tonight or really ever. He never knew in a hundred years he would be deep inside his coworker, a babbling mess underneath her, and basically prematurely ejaculate inside of her. but somehow this is where Spencer feels he wants to be, maybe not the cumming so soon part but being underneath you.

"No need to apologize Spence..." You moan out, shifting your hips slightly. You bring your hands up to your shirt and slowly work your way down the buttons. "You deserved to cum in mommy, you did so good with your mouth."

You yank your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra Spencer had bought you days before. Spencer's breath hitched, his memory of buying that in the first place coming back. He was at the store, buying whatever he needed for that night when he accidentally stumbled into the women's undergarments section. He attempted to cover his eyes, but for some reason, they kept landing on the black lacy bra you had right now. It was embarrassing for him to be buying it, going to the checkout, and praying the cashier didn't even think twice about it, it didn't help that the image of you in it had him rock hard.

You bucked your hips softly, feeling every single inch of Spencer nuzzling inside of you. You watched his eyes, seeing how they planted on your boobs. You chuckled softly, reaching your hands to him that were sitting on your hips and bringing them up. You placed his hands on your breast, knowing that Spencer would be too shy to do it himself. You held his hands there, feeling his hands squeeze them gently as you did.

"I wanna..." You start, being interrupted by a soft moan that escapes your mouth as Spencer starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours. "I wanna make you do it again... i want you to cum in me again..."

That is all Spencer needed to hear, his stomach already creating a tight coil that could break at any moment. Your thrust was starting to pick up, his cock being pulled almost completely out of you before you slammed your hips back down to push him all the way into you. With Spencer's cock deep inside you and his hands squeezing your tits roughly, you felt you had died and went straight to heaven, or was this hell? Because you doubted you could find sex like this in heaven, this was dirty and sinful. The curses dripping from each of your mouths and spencers moans that sounded like something straight of a porno filled the room and most likely the entire floor of the hotel.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, hunching over Spencer as your hips continued to thrust roughly. Spencer moved his hands back to your hips for the hundredth time tonight, helping you thrust his cock inside of you. You were both overstimulated, your clit sending shocks of electricity through your body every time it made contact with Spencer's lower stomach. The coil inside you threatened to burst, frustration filled you as you tried desperately to bust it open and make more of a mess than it already had been. You reached down in between your legs, rubbing the small bud and sending lightning through your body.

"Fuck... gonna cum...gonna cum on your cock..." You moaned out, stuttering every time Spencer's cock filled you up.

Spencer took that as a sign to thrust harder back into you, moving his hips up and forcing your hips down. You were on the edge, every single inch of your body on fire as you fucked yourself onto Spencer. and with one single hard, deep thrust from Spencer... the coil in you snapped once again. You shoved your face into the sheet next to Spencer's head, screaming into them as you came all over Spencer's cock. You felt this feeling couldn't get any better until you felt Spencer's hot cum flow through you once again.

You were too in your own world to even hear Spencer's loud scream/moan he did as he came deep inside you, you both being thrown out of your own bodies as you came. Your juices flow together to make one big mess out of the sheets, something that will be embarrassing for the housekeepers to clean in the morning. You both laid there for a minute, basking in each other's warmth and feeling spencers cum seep out of your cunt.

It was strange to you, how you would much rather Spencer's cum dripping out of you than... well anything in life. You weren't exactly the most sex-driven person, but at this moment you knew why some people were. Spencer somehow got into your head, planting himself into it and keeping it hostage. With that being said, you couldn't stay mad at Spencer, you honestly completely forgot why you had been pushing him in the first place. The name Lila is so far away from your thoughts, that you don't actually care anymore.

You slid Spencer out of you with a wince, flopping down next to him as he came down from his high. You shifted to your side so you could watch his pretty face, his eyes fluttering open, his mouth trying to steal whatever air he could get... He looked blissful. You felt oddly proud about it, knowing that you were the one to do that. However, through the pride, you felt a deep guilt. Spencer was the kindest boy you have ever met, he chose you to give his heart to. Yet you were upset with him because he kissed another girl? No, he didn't kiss her... she kissed him. You felt petty now, the regret of ever questioning Spencer's loyalty mended into your brain.

"I'm not mad at you, you know?" You're tired, worn-out voice making it sound like a whisper. Spencer sighed softly, clear that he had forgotten as well and now he's remembered it all again. "It's just...seeing her with you, it just brought me back to high school you know? It made me feel how I did when fucking Rachel Clark tongue fucked my prom date..." You let out a soft sigh, playing with Spencer's hair as you talked.

"You know it's normal to feel that way, especially when you had a similar experience," Spencer explains, going on another one of his Reid rants. "And well, anyone would feel like that whether you had a similar experience with it or not. I know I would." Spencer's eyes wandered to the ceiling, closing his eyes due to utter exhaustion.

You couldn't imagine Spencer Reid ever getting jealous, he was always so calm about everything. You wondered what it would look like. Would he pin you to the bed and fuck the shit out of you like you did him or would he just not know how to deal with those emotions. You honestly wouldn't want to put him into a situation where he would feel that, you couldn't do that to little Spencer. He was innocent, as if the world had not touched him yet even if he does look at the dark underbelly of humans every single day.

"Yeah... well you won't ever have to worry about that my love." You said softly, cuddling yourself further into his side as you closed your eyes as well. "You're stuck with me..."

Spencer chuckled softly, at complete peace that he was stuck with you. If you were the person he was stuck with for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man. You two didn't even bother wrapping up in the blankets, you just needed each other's warmth as you lulled each other to sleep. The presence of jealousy and anger nowhere to be seen, maybe y'all didn't talk it out tonight but you sure did fuck and made up. You wouldn't have it any other way. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

tom wearing a yale law crewneck🫶🏻

Yale crewneck || Tom Blyth x reader

Summary: Tom wears your Yale crewneck 🫢

Warnings: none

Wc: 376

A/n: short n sweet, I haven’t had any motivation to write lately 😭 I was supposed to post this yesterday but I got busy so hereee

divider by @pommecita

You’re seated in the hushed atmosphere of the School library, surrounded by towering shelves of legal tomes and the faint rustle of pages. The dim light casts a warm glow on your determined face as you sift through case notes, fully immersed in your studies.

A message pops up on your phone as your face immediately lights up at the text, you quickly pack up your belongings to meet up with Tom who had just arrived at Campus.

From a distance, you spot your boyfriend, casually leaning against the a tree, focused in his phone. A contented smile graces your lips. The two of you have barely been able to see each other in person due to busy schedule. Yet, there he was, merely a few meters away.

Tom!” you exclaim, a broad grin adorning your face, quickening your steps toward him. He glances up from his phone, swiftly tucking it in his pocket, and the familiar, affectionate smile that warms your heart appears on his lips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he warmly greets, arms open for an embrace. You melt into his hug, feeling the reassuring circles his hand traces on your back. A contented sigh escapes you, and you share a moment. “I’ve missed your hugs,” you sight, meeting his gaze. He grins, leaning down to seal the sentiment with a tender kiss.

Strolling through the streets of New Haven, your hands entwined, tlaking about anything and everything, you made several stops on your way back to the apartment. When you arrived back home, you changed out of your clothes and into pyjamas—which was just Tom’s shirt— and headed straight to the kitchen to cook dinner for the both of you.

Meanwhile, Tom was in your bedroom, fresh out the shower and looking through your closet for some clothes that he had left behind.

Finding one of your oversized Yale crewnecks, Tom effortlessly slipped it on. The fabric enveloped him, carrying the familiar scent of the shared obsession with a particular laundry detergent.

As he stepped out of the room, your eyes fixated on him. “You look good in it,” you giggled, appreciating the way he effortlessly showcased the oversized Yale crewneck with a playful spin.

“It’s incredibly comfy,” he comments, wrapping his arms around your waist as you skillfully cut up carrots. “Here, let me help,” Tom says, washing his hands before helping you cut the rest of the veggies. “Take it with you when you start filming,” you suggest, and he hums in agreement.

“I should, so I can be reminded that my girlfriend is a genius who goes to Yale,” Tom playfully nudges you eliciting a delightful giggle from you.

tomblyth

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera, thehungergames and 5,047,209 others

Berlin dump

view all comments

y/n_y/l/n: my crewneck suits u better babe

↘️ tomblyth: I’m stealing it from you

↘️ rachelzegler: you guys are adorable 🥹

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I love you 😚

user1: THE YALE CREWNECK OMG

↘️ user2: SO CUTE

↘️ user3: still can’t wrap my head around how he’s dating a Yale student 😂

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: best believe it!

user4: everyone’s talking about him wearing a Yale crewneck but hello? The last picture?

↘️ user5: RIGHTT

user6: Is that y/n in the third pic too??

↘️ user7: I think so yeah!

user8: that last picture is so freakin cute. how does it feel to live MY dream y/n?

user9: whose Yale crewneck is that 🫢

↘️ tomblyth: it’s actually mine cause i go to Yale!!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: uhuh….

#tom blyth #fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x gf!reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x fem!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #uni student #yale #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #tom blyth fluff #social media #social media au #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth angst #tom blyth the man you are

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. it's pre-season testing time!

content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://

"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.

"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"

"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"

"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."

"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.

"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.

"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"

"well..."

"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.

"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.

"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"

"what, arrogant? self-centered?"

"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.

it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.

the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.

this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.

"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.

"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.

"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"

"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.

"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.

"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.

speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.

"we delivered what we predicted."

"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."

"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."

empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 female driver #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

[itsbopp]

Can you write gwen stacy x fem reader when her spider-sense goes off and realizes that you're in danger ( also, can it angst in the beginning, then turn into comfort I would like that very much)

Just Be Careful - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot

A/N: Got you! I'm not extremely well-versed (no pun intended) in writing angst, so I hope I did your request some justice!

SUMMARY: After getting into an argument with Gwen, you leave to try and clear your head. However, what once was a walk that was meant as your way of calming down, quickly turned into a life-or-death situation with a group of thugs, who were up to no good. 

WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Swearing, Angst/Comfort, Weapons, Descriptive Physical Violence.

WORD COUNT: 3400+

Gwen hated getting into fights with you. 

They didn’t at all compare to the ones she would have with the typical criminal that roamed Chelsea, New York. Those were physical altercations, and it always ended with her winning and feeling accomplished, because she got rid of a genuinely bad person. The ones she had with you were sometimes heated, and although there was that urgency to try and win the argument, it never felt like she succeeded. Even if her opinions on the matter the two of you disagreed on made more sense than yours, she still disliked the fact that you and her couldn’t have had a calm conversation about your different stances. 

Maybe it was stress this time that so easily tipped you over the edge and caused you to become so angry with her. Intermixing school and work was the worst concoction to have. The blonde tried her hardest to understand what might have been going on with you. Maybe she should have just pushed away her desire to get her point across, and simply asked you what the deeper reason for your frustration was. But she couldn’t. Not now, at least. You had left the apartment. You slammed the door and it felt like it rattled the entire building.

It didn’t take a genius to gather that you were pissed off. 

And, from what she had gathered, it was all because of the fact that Gwen wasn’t understanding your concern for her. You knew she was Spider-Woman. You found out early on, and it was due to the fact that she had crawled through the window of your shared apartment one night to try and be sneaky. But you were pulling an all-nighter, and so as you sat on the couch, watching TV, you just about had a heart attack when you saw this random woman in a tight black, white, and pink suit come into your apartment. You screamed, she screamed. You threw your box of popcorn at her, she – surprisingly – webbed it to the wall before it could even hit her, and then it was a domino effect from there. 

When she eventually showed you that she was the one and only Spider-Woman, you freaked out. And you had every right to, she thought. Hearing the news, reading the newspaper and seeing all of the things Gwen got herself into, it instilled a lot of worry in your chest, because you were well aware that this superhero of New York was getting herself into a lot of crazy situations. And they were ones that could have easily gotten her killed. And so that was where your concern came from. 

The weighing dread of responsibilities didn’t help your mood, however. And so as you thought about what had happened at that apartment, you felt a little guilty for the way you blew up on her. Your last words consisted of, ‘I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the fucking day,’ and of course, she came back with her own two sense, that only caused you to scoff in turn and slam the door shut before she could truly finish her retort. Something along the lines of, ‘you won’t be thinking that when you need me to save your ass.’ 

At first, you thought that the statement was belligerent and arrogant. 

But now, you didn’t really think so. 

Staring down the barrel of a gun wasn’t on your to-do list for the day. The man who held it shook the weapon impatiently while he yelled at you, but with the way your heart pounded, it caused your hearing to only pick up the rhythmic drum of the organ. You could feel yourself losing air as anxiety washed over you like a heavy tsunami, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get yourself to fall out of your frozen state. 

Clearly, it was causing the thug anger, and the two goons that had joined him also showed their own feelings of frustration. When one of them lunged forward and gripped the collar of your shirt to shove you into the wall, the other smacked the metal of their bat onto the brick surface you had been slammed up against, right beside your head. You flinched, rightfully so, but surprisingly, it seemed to be the thing that snapped you back into reality. Voices, gruff and cold, came back to your senses, and you could eventually hear the bustling of the dark New York streets from the alley you were stuck in, as well as the shaky breaths that slipped from your lips. 

“Either you give us everything you fuckin’ got, or I’ll beat your skull in!” You flinched when the man who gripped the collar of your shirt harshly smacked your cheek. It caused your head to turn and for a pained gasp to escape you, as a heated stinging sensation spread across the right side of your face. The hand that fell onto you was rough and callous, which only made the feeling all the more excruciating, though you weren’t able to dwell on it when a heavy fist suddenly slammed itself into your gut. 

All the air inside of your lungs vanished as a bloom of agony spread throughout your abdomen. Your eyes were quick to snap shut, and you unwillingly showed your pain when you clutched your stomach with your arms and fell to the ground. Your knees slammed against the cold cement of the alley way, and before you could even regather yourself, a boot planted itself against your shoulder and shoved you to the floor. You weren’t able to stop your teetering body, due to the power of the push, and so the moment the rest of your form hit the ground, your head was quick to follow. 

The feeling of your skull cracking against the concrete wasn’t pleasant. Even the men who gathered around you hesitated to continue their assault. Though, when you let out a weak groan and rolled yourself to lay on your back, that seemed to be the thing that pushed the muggers back onto the task of robbing you blind. Before you could even react, you felt grimy hands grab onto your body, searching through the pockets of your pants, while a pair of footsteps moved past you to search through the backpack you had dumbly brought with you when you left the apartment earlier. 

As much as you didn’t want them to steal everything that you had, you lacked the strength to do anything about it. You felt them rummage for your wallet, your keys, the single dollar bills you had, if you ever needed cash for something. Your pockets soon became voidless pits. You could hear their voices, even as the world around you spun like some extremely fast merry-go-round. You didn’t know what they were saying. However, you could notice the way their tones switched from calm to panicked and terrified in the matter of minutes. 

“In this day and age, you’re still robbing people in alleyways?!” 

You knew who had voiced the quip without even needing to see their face. The zipping of webs and grunts filled your ears as you stared up at the sky, and in your daze, you noted the way the walls of the alleyway slightly closed in, which almost covered the sight of the moon that illuminated the world. Scuffling of boots and a surprisingly high-pitched yelp echoed to your left, which caused you to lull your head to the side, only to see one of the men who had attacked you slam against the wall, as a glob of spider string spread across his chest to keep him there. 

It wasn’t difficult to find out where the other culprits of your less than ideal state had gone. Hanging from the balcony of a fire exit, the two men were wrapped within a cocoon of webbing. They struggled in their confinements, and you would have laughed at the sight, if your head hadn’t felt like someone drilled into it with a power tool. 

Even though you left on a terrible note earlier in the day, you were elated when you saw the familiar figure of Spider-Woman drop down from wherever she had been perched. She landed against the cement like a graceful ballerina, but she was swift in popping up to her full height and rushing over to you the moment she saw that you were still laying on the floor. “Shit shit shit–!” You could hear her voice, albeit muffled, and the way she was clearly concerned for your wellbeing. The expletives that leaked out of her mouth from behind her mask made the corner of your lip quirk slightly, amused. Though, the expression quickly vanished once you felt how sore your jaw had become, just from the simple action.

However, when Gwen knelt down to your side and cradled your face with her covered hands, you felt the pain that surrounded your head subtly dissipate. The way they touched you with a profound amount of comfort, compared to what you had dealt with only moments prior. Her palm was gentle in the way that it moved to cradle the back of your skull. Still, you couldn’t prevent the groan that bubbled within your throat from slipping out. “I’m sorry,” you impulsively uttered, even though speaking seemed to be too much, with the way your abdomen uncomfortably throbbed.  

“Please don’t start apologizing like you’re dying,” Gwen told you worriedly, as you felt her hands move away from your head. As much as you wanted to, you weren’t able to say anything in response, before you felt her arms slide under your body, and hoist you up. You let your own limb lazily loop around the back of her neck as she held you against her chest, and in the process, you couldn’t help but to glance down at the cement you had just used as your temporary resting place. You didn’t miss it, and honestly, you were only checking to see if you had left any blood behind.

You didn’t, thankfully. 

And so, it didn’t take long before you turned your focus back towards Gwen, and even though her face was covered by the mask she wore to hide her identity, you could still feel the worry that radiated off of her, with the way she stared down at you. It was dark out, yet with the moon shining down, and the artificial lights from buildings and signs radiating their glow across the walls of the alleyway, it wasn’t difficult to see her. “Thank you,” you eventually muttered, but all you got in turn was a wave of silence.

She nodded her head passively, before she spoke up. “Let’s just… go home.” She ignored your apology, which conveyed that she clearly wasn’t wanting to hash out your issues in a disgusting alleyway, while a trio of similarly disgusting burglars watched on. You understood, though a part of you had wished to receive the reassurance that things were okay between the two of you. 

You knew it wasn’t that easy, however. 

— — — — — —

You let Gwen carry you home under the guise of Spider-Woman, and you practically fell asleep due to how smooth of a journey it was. The trip was silent, full of pondering thoughts that circled throughout both of your minds. You slowly came to the realization that you were overly harsh when you had left, and the blonde had eventually come to terms with the fact that she was being way too hard-headed for her own good. She could have easily used the excuse that it was a trait she got from her dad, but it wouldn’t have made the situation any better, and she was well aware of that. 

Gwen let you go through the window of the apartment first, and you almost fell into the room, due to the unbearable soreness you felt surrounding your abdomen and head. Luckily, your girlfriend was quick to slip into the room right after you, and your arm was silently slung over her shoulders as she walked you towards the bathroom with her own limb secured around your waist. 

As much as you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, you felt a wave of amusement fill your chest when Gwen helped you up onto the bathroom counter. “Well, this is romantic,” you mumbled, as you settled yourself onto the granite and fidgeted with your scraped up hands, all while you slightly swung your bruised legs back and forth. Sarcasm dripped from your tone when you spoke, but you could tell that the woman in front of you wasn’t pleased with your attempt at being comical. 

Gwen sighed and tugged the hood of her outfit down from hanging over her head. The moment she slipped her mask off of her face, she shook her head to settle her messy blonde hair back to normal, though she didn’t show a shred of joy in the action. For the first time in what felt like forever, your eyes eventually met her blue ones, and it didn’t take a magnifying glass to notice the shiny look in her gaze. The amusement you once held within your chest swiftly vanished, and a deep frown overtook your features as you watched her set her belongings next to you, before she moved close and wrapped her arms around your body. 

You felt your head press against the middle of her chest when her hand came up to pull you into her. The embrace that she gave you was tight, and you were quick to reciprocate it, as your own limbs moved up to hug around her waist. Her face moved down to bury itself in your hair as she squeezed your form, and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes when a wave of comfort washed over you. She seemed to find solace in the touch when she breathed you in and let out a shaky exhale, which caused your heart to squeeze even more than it already had, as your fingers scratched along her back, attempting to calm her silent worry. 

“I shouldn’t have let you leave. Not while we were still mad at each other,” Gwen mumbled, her voice muffled. “I tried looking for you when you did, but you just… you just vanished, and then I felt that you were in danger and I…” She trailed off and pulled back from the hug to look you in the eye. Her hands moved from behind your back to gently cup your face, and she furrowed her eyebrows in sorrow as your chin angled up to meet her concerned gaze. “I thought you died.” She shook her head and rubbed the pad of her thumb along your cheek, just barely grazing over the bruise that had formed on your skin, which caused her focus to flicker towards it for a moment. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. I know you care, but I guess I just felt like you didn’t trust that I could keep myself safe.” 

“I do trust you, Gwen,” you quickly replied, as your hands came up to hold onto her wrists. You didn’t try to push her palms away from your cheeks, though you made sure to give that part of her body a gentle squeeze, as a way to silently assure her that you weren’t upset. “And I know that you’ve got these crazy superhuman abilities because of what happened with you and that spider – which is still a story that I don’t understand–” You cut yourself off before you started rambling about an entirely different thing. A sigh slipped from your lips. “But… the point is that… even though you have the strength to lift – like, two cars or something, and the durability that allows you to get flung into a building a bunch of times without obtaining so much as a scratch… that still doesn’t mean you’re invincible,” you clarified, “I don’t want to come home one day, turn on the news, and find out that Spider-Woman – my Spider-Woman is dead.” 

Gwen frowned, “That won’t happen.” 

You pulled her hands away from your face and clutched them between your own as they fell into your lap. “But you don’t know that.” You shook your head and clenched your jaw, feeling a sense of worry hit your chest. “That’s what I’m so scared of. That your confidence will turn into arrogance,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I just don’t want it to be your downfall. That’s all.” You paused to gauge her reaction, but she only lowered her gaze and looked at the floor, as she slowly nodded her head. “I understand that crime-fighting is – basically – your full-time job, but I just need you to promise me that you’ll try not to let that confidence get to your head.” 

“I’ve gotten hurt many times before,” Gwen muttered, “I’ve healed… I always heal.” 

“But what happens when someone manages to get to your heart? Or another organ that could determine whether you live or die?” She remained silent, and you squeezed her hands tightly, trying to make your statement hold more weight to it. “You’ve gotten hurt before, but what if the next time, it’s fatal?” The question was rhetorical, and when she didn’t respond, it allowed you to continue. “All I’m asking, Gwen, is that you just try to be careful. Because I know you’re not all the time, and that’s what scares me.” 

Gwen knew that you were right. Just like every other Spider-Man in existence, she was also one that got herself into close calls with her fair share of what she called villains of the week. At first, she never truly worried about it. However, now, the reality of being in a relationship – while also being Spider-Woman – was hitting her hard. For the sake of helping you sleep at night, she needed to think about the consequences of her actions, which felt ironic, considering she had said similar things to the bad men and women she locked up. 

What goes around comes around, she thought. 

Although she was an extremely stubborn individual, Gwen could see the pleading look in your eyes, which was the ultimate thing that cracked her.

With a long, heavy sigh, she eventually relented, as her shoulders slumped, and a slightly exhausted expression fell onto her pale features. “Okay, okay…” She trailed off, before she pulled her hands out of the hold you had them in, and rested them back onto your cheeks. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” You felt her press a firm kiss to your forehead, and just as you were about to speak up and give her your thanks, she pulled back and held onto your chin with her fingers. “You too, though,” she added, which made your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t want to see all this on your pretty face.” She gestured towards the bruising that had developed on your skin, which caused you to lightheartedly scoff. 

“Well, now you know how I feel when I see you come back from a fight all beat up,” you retorted. "And besides, it wasn't like I asked to be robbed in an alleyway."

Gwen pressed her lips together, before she pursed them in understanding and nodded her head. “Okay. Touche. You’ve got me there.” You shrugged, as if to silently say ‘I know,’ and instead of the usual quip you would have received from your girlfriend in response to your reaction, all she gave you instead was a loving stare that portrayed comfort. “Okay,” she hummed, before she let go of your face and stepped back to grab a medical box she had laying around… somewhere. “Let’s get you fixed up.” 

You stared at your partner for a few moments, watching as she scrounged through drawers and cabinets in an attempt to find where she had misplaced her medkit. Although the wounds on your skin slowly started to hurt, you couldn’t help but smile softly at the dorkiness she exuded. You yourself still had yet to apologize, but in that moment, you made a mental note to do so the moment she wasn’t too busy worrying about patching you up. 

Couples fought. It was a normal thing. 

You were just glad that it didn’t end everything.

#spider gwen x reader #gwen stacy x reader #atsv x reader #itsv x reader

[austinsastrology8991]

> Mars in Houses < How you fight demons by becoming more demony ANd where others thirsty for yo Red-Bull-shit

Mars in First - Red bull gave you wings. your venom is oozing out yo teeth, but you still grinning at anything that moves. you act out a lot -and we let you - only because we don't wanna be the reason you lashed out - and you will justify your outbursts with any reason possible. because anything and everything makes you jump into a fist fight. and we don't wanna hear it was our fault later when we all know its your fault Mars in Second - Red bull made you sleep. you tired of fighting, but you will never surrender - so like what do you even want. your easily the most annoying person to get in a fight with because you never quit even if you lost the fight. passive in yo jabs but you a genius at pissing me off. and honestly the only reason i put up with it is because you so god damn sensual but your the definition of walking on egg shells Mars in Third - Red bull gave you intrusive thoughts. You are irrationally provocative and you don't even care that you just pissed everyone off with yo shit talking. you are able to have a conversation, but you must get the final word, and this final word, is why we all roll our eyes at you whenever you say yo 'piece.' notice how know one talks shit back to you? talk is cheap Mars in Fourth - Red bull gave you cancer - you hold in a lot, and we know your insides are boiling into a hot soup and thats why everyone so nice to you. we dont want to be the ones you vomit at. and we know its because yo mama made you bite yo tongue as a kid. and well we gotten used to it Mars in Fifth - Red bull gave you energy - get hyper - *dubstep**ksi appears** your dominant simply because your energy is overwhelming to others > you got the loudest laugh > the 'funniest' jokes > the biggest rawr xd > no one gonna step to you because you loud , and to extinguish yo flames we gotta call the fire brigade because you set the whole building on fire Mars in Sixth - Red bull gave you band aids/aids - you the most non combative person but can cut anyone so easily. you know exactly how to put someone down, and thats why you dont look for fights, because it feels like work at dis point. undercover freaks Mars in Seventh - Red bull gave you an erection - RED ROCKET RED ROCKET ummm do you really gotta show yo red rocket to everyone. seriously you working everyone as if you plan on sleeping with everyone. and the people you really wanna sleep with man, never seen a bigger simp, but keep pretending you a pimp, i mean i would too if i was as thirsty as you Mars in Eighth - Red bull gave you demon wings - scary. you can expose anyone by diggging into their psyche/secrets, and after you expose them, you console them, make them feel better about how you made them yo bitch. I mean its impressive how well you keep your secrets to yourself, but man do you exterminate everyone elses and its uncomfortable to be yo target Mars in Ninth - Red bull made you jump off something high - loud ambitions and a whole buncha energy. and well we know you have a grand plan to take over the world, but we done hearing about it we just waiting to see if you got the balls to do it. oh wow you actually jumped off the cliff and nearly died. was it as legendary as you thought it would be > i mean shit, imma talk about it so maybe? Mars in Tenth - Red bull made you put on a suit - Professionally a proffesional. a professional that proffeses they a profesional professionally like professionals who are proffesional. do you feel like i gave you the respect you deserved, or do you feeel im mocking you? they ask themselves this typa shit 24/7 because they dont wanna get spat on, but they so used to it - so they put themselves in only win win situations to avoid anything 'unprofessional'

Mars in Eleventh - Red bull gave you purpose - yall are kinda fearless but we all know its because you so afraid you wont get your way lol. but you masters at getting yo way, but that just means people dont wanna get in yo way... now ask yourself. how beneficial is this really. i mean at least nothing is an obstacle, but also no one helping you, becasue your attitude has convinced everyone you dont need help, and we also don't want to Mars in Twelfth - Red bull made you think he gave you wings - yall into infecting peoples minds; thats yo weapon. you know the exact right things to pull off to get people stuck in a thought loop of guessing what ifs of what is actually nothing at all. and this 'weapon' after a while, is completely useless after yo game is revealed, but yall are intriguing and are always shapeshifting into some new shit

#mars houses #astrology houses #astrology #astrology blog #astro community #astrology notes #astrology observations #astrology placements #house placements

[bloodynereid]

Zodiac Suite

pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x fem! reader

tw: mentions of war, alcohol drinking, mentions of smoking, a whole lot of fluff

description: when rosie finds someone who loves jazz just as much as him.

a/n: ok so this was a complete and utter self indulgent fic because i am obsessed with mary lou williams and im now headcanoning the fact that rosie also loves her. SO some random little research details that i found really cool: mary lou williams first performed 'zodiac suite' in 1945, the café society was a real place from 1938-48 and it was located in new york, mary lou williams used to perform a lot there (there's a whole lot of pictures online if anyone's interested) AND a little tidbit i found about real life rosie is that he went back to europe to prosecute the nazis after the war! isn't he really cool??? oh and this is all based off the tv show character, not the actual person. and i would recommend listening to the album (it's free on spotify + youtube) while reading if you can.

Rosie felt right at home at the busy night club, the smoke from many lit cigarettes and the scotch rushing through his veins combined with the dulcet tones of jazz almost made him forget that he had been at war just a few months ago.

Settling back into civilian life hadn’t been the easiest but times like these made him feel like he was okay again. Café Society was a place he used to go to quite a lot before the war, just to take in the ambience and have a stiff drink. Now it had become his refuge once again, tonight one of his favorite pianists was performing.

Mary Lou Williams was an absolute genius and her work didn’t just sound good, it sounded great. She was in the middle of performing her Zodiac Suite, one of the things that made Rosie feel like he had done his job right, because if music, art, could continue undisturbed by those Nazi bastards then it was all worth it.

“God, she’s incredible isn’t she?” A voice from next to brought him out of his reverie, making Rosie turn to the sound of that beautiful voice. A woman was standing next to him with a dazed smile on her face, she looked completely entranced in the music. Rosie was sure he had been mirroring her expression exactly just a few moments ago.

“She really is.” Rosie said, his attention now completely on you. The sound of his voice had you jumping and turning to look at him, it was now obvious you hadn’t meant to say that outloud as you looked a little scandalized. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry for disturbing you, sometimes I get too lost in the music and… well I seem to lose control of my mouth.” You utter the last phrase with a slightly nervous laugh and a few stuttered words but Rosie already felt like he was entranced with you.

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. It happens to me as well on occasion.”

“Jesus, please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me sound like my mother.” You seemed to have overcome the earlier shyness, which made Rosie’s mouth twitch into an even wider smile.

“Well now I think I should be the one apologizing, sweetheart.”

“I forgive you… but only if you tell me your name.”

“That one is just too easy, Rosie Rosenthal, at your service.”

“Rosie?”

“The air force has a way with nicknames. Now I think I’m owed a name as well?” You smiled and quickly said your name before taking a sip of the drink in your hand. A gin and tonic by the looks of it.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

“Are all pilots such flatterers?”

“Only the best ones.” You hummed back in mock suspicion which had Rosie smiling so hard he probably looked like a mad man. The sounds of piano seemed to seep into the comfortable silence and you turned back to the stage, Rosie felt a wave of regret rush over him until he noticed you were moving closer to him so the fabric of your clothes brushed against his.

Rosie moved the glass from his left hand to his right and also turned back to look at the stage, but not before leaning closer to you too. Letting his hand carefully trail along the length of your arm.

A smile crept up on your face and you once again scooted closer to him. You both kept up this little game as you listened to the entracing jazz music, stealing little glances at each other but never meeting each other’s eyes. It was as if you were both encased in your own little bubble.

When the set finished and everyone started applauding and cheering, you finally met Rosie’s eyes. He looked at you with admiration as you laughed and clapped.

“She really is incredible, isn’t she?” He asked, echoing your first words back to you once the din had died down.

“She really is.” You responded before taking a step forward and placing a quick peck on his cheek and uttering a quick goodbye before disappearing into the crowd.

Rosie returned to Café Society the next night, hoping to get a glimpse of you in the same crowd you had vanished into the night before. And he wasn’t disappointed when he saw you sitting at one of the tables at the edge of the room. Two drinks sat in front of you, a scotch and a gin and tonic. Rosie felt a buzz of electricity run through his body when he realized that you had been waiting for him. He saw as you turned your head towards him and a smile blossomed on your face.

“Rosie! I saved you a seat!”

It was a quiet night, at least as quiet as it can be in a big city. Rosie had just gotten back from Europe and he felt at ease once again. As he always did when he was around you.

Your legs were intertwined with his on the red couch you had gone hunting for in one of the little out of the way shops that Brooklyn had. You each had a book in hand and the sounds of a familiar jazz album suddenly crackled onto the radio. Your heads snapped up when you realized that Mary Lou Williams’ Cancer was playing.

“Rosie…”

“Yes, darling?”

“It’s our album.” Rosie looked down at you from where you were lying on his lap. A giddy smile was on your face and he echoed back that smile right back at you.

“It sure is.”

“I’m rather glad I met you.”

“I’m rather glad I fell in love with you, sweetheart.” Rosie answered with a note of adoration in his voice, looking at you as if you hung the very stars in the sky.

“I sure hope you are, because I love you more.”

“Oh I don’t think so.” Rosie deposited his book on the arm of the sofa before assaulting you with tickles, making your laugh ring out into the night. A sound that perfectly complemented the jazz that was still filtering out of the radio.

also... if anyone by any chance finds a vinyl copy of Zodiac Suite anywhere pls lmk. ive been scouring the internet for the past few months and have found nothing. hope you enjoyed and pls lmk your thoughts or asks, i don't bite!!

#robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x reader #masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota spoilers #masters of the air x reader #rosie x reader #masters of the air fic

[mymarsmoonandstars]

It's been a week since I saw Wakanda Forever, and ever since, it's consumed my thinking. There are a million things I'd love to discuss about the film, but what keeps me up at night is Shuri and Namor.

Shuri had every right to gut his ass. Namor brought flooding and destruction to her home, killed her mother, all while knowing she was suffering from the death of her brother. Hell, Namor nearly killed her (by impaling her, which how did she survive that idk, anyway). And what was the worst thing that Shuri had done to him? Say no to his alliance to go to war with the surface world? Shuri wasn't the one who killed Namor's two subjects. She actually tried to save them. Yet just like T'Challa, she's forced to deal with the consequences of other people's actions, and when she stands over Namor with a blade to his neck, her internal struggle with this flashes across screen. It's a powerful sequence, but the one that captures me the most is when we hear her mother telling her to show Namor who she is. Not only is it one of many callbacks to the first film, but really, who is she? Who is Shuri? She is struggling with her identity, as grief often does to a person.

When audiences first met Shuri, she was the genius younger sister, the comic relief, who took solace in her lab. But now all this has been taken from her, and taken so suddenly. She's now front and center, now her country's most powerful figure, no longer the jokester, no longer a sister, no longer a daughter, and feels like a failure. The moments where she stands over Namor is us watching her return to herself but also become someone entirely new. She sees the destruction reverse. Sees Namor's hope. Sees their mothers and their nations. She understands that they are similar just as much as they are different. She finally realizes that ending Namor's life cannot reverse the destruction nor her pain, but sparing him is the answer to ending the cycle of it. She recognizes that even though her mother and brother are gone, she is still sister, still daughter. Death in Wakanda is a beginning.

Above all, Shuri understands she cannot think of only herself anymore. She cannot push her people to war because of her own grief and vengefulness. She becomes a leader, in granting mercy. A protector.  And extends this protection by offering it to Namor and his people. This brought a bitter taste in my mouth at first, but it isn't about who's right or wrong, especially when both sides have a little right or a little wrong to them. It's about navigating the actions of their forebearers in the best way they can.

Her multifaceted character is symbolized by her panther suit--it's reminiscent of T'Challa, Kilmonger, and her past self. Now that she's burned her mourning clothes, hopefully in the next movie, we'll see her accept this role with newfound confidence and surity of its purpose. I'm also hoping that Shuri kept Namor's little baby ankle wing that she sliced off and puts it up somewhere to serve as a reminder that she bested him. Can you imagine? I can't wait to see more of her.

Then there's Namor. And dare I say it, he was justified in his feelings of wanting to kill Queen Ramonda. She was cunning and tricked him and had two of his people killed in the process. Remember the scene where he's cradling his subject's face as she dies? And she asks if he can save her and he does not answer because he knows he cannot? And then--was it Namora?--who says, with such blame dripping in her voice, that he was busy meeting with the queen during Nakia's attack. Namor is so angry, and very possibly, so ashamed (and scared?). His ultimate goal is to protect his people, and he failed. He's a god and Ramonda made him look like a fool. To him, she had to go.

Ryan Coogler said that despite Namor being about 500 years old, he wanted him to still feel somewhat childlike. And is he! He's rash. He focuses only on the immediate response without thinking of the ramifications. He seems almost charmingly innocent in his hopefulness that Shuri would want to join him. There's no doubt they wanted us to feel a romantic connection betweeen them, or perhaps just from Namor's end. I don't know who gives clearance on the music, but whoever does, they are always very intentional and unique about it, and a love song plays during That One Mesmerizing Scene. The theories that Namor is infatuated with Shuri just weaken me. She's the first person to ever see Talocan. The bracelet. The mural. Him acknowdging her power. Him waiting for her to beckon him. I. have. folded. No one look at me.

I really hope the MCU explores their relationship. And though I'm sure it would never be a romantic one, that does not make it any less intriguing. Ryan is phenomenal with his villains. Just like Kilmonger challenged T'Challa not just with war, but challenged his core beliefs, Namor did the same with Shuri. The only difference now is that Namor is still alive, and this sets us up for a delicious exploration of a complex relationship between two leaders who have similar wants but conflicting perspectives.

Man. I love them. MCU, please let us see more of them. And if we do, please. Be careful with them.

#and the fact that this is between a black woman and brown man like PLEASE #seeing black women in multilayered relationships is something I did not know I starved for until now #shuri #namor #wakanda forever #shuri x namor #anyway let me talk next about how killing queen ramonda was a thematic mistake! #wakanda forever spoilers #black panther #black panther spoilers #wakanda forever meta

[sagaduwyrm]

Yo, I wrote something.

It Matters to Have this Ghost Clan Near (This Family I Never Knew)

Held prisoner by an alien god-monarch, the only way the Justice League is getting out of here is by proving they have family waiting for them. This is easy enough for Clark and Bruce, but of Diana's family her mother isn't exactly easy to contact, and her relationship with the rest of her family is... complicated.

Luckily, just because he's dead, doesn't mean Kronos doesn't still care about his granddaughter.

"Clark. Bruce. Leave me here." Wonder Woman snarled the words as fierce as her heritage had taught her, and it only made Bruce more furious about the entire situation.

"Well? Have you made a decision yet? We won't wait forever." The alien monarch lounged on their throne, an ugly, amused glint in their eyes. It made Bruce want to break something, but the trio were outnumbered and far from home, and they were only getting out of here at all by the grace of the monarch's will.

He hated foreign gods. The ones on earth were tolerable, some, like Diana, he even liked, but gods from other worlds didn't push his buttons so much as they stomped on them with soccer cleats.

Wonder Woman was becoming visibly panicked. "Friends. Shield-brothers. Leave."

Bruce ignored her and tried to think of a way past this. The mrydonians and their god-monarch were fond of keeping people they found interesting. Anyone with any kind of power who stumbled into their lonely corner of the universe tended to find themselves stuck. They had even managed to trap gods before; the god-monarch reigned over the very concept of mrydonian space, and it allowed them to win out over gods of lesser or more distant domains. Diana, as the goddess of heroes, was below such a powerful genius locus, and the sun wasn't the kind that could fully power Clark up, preventing them from fighting their way out.

Thankfully, there was one loophole. The mrydonians held family sacred, even above their only god, and if they could prove they had family waiting for them they would be let go.

A quick call back home had settled the matter for him and Clark. His kids had answered the phone immediately, as had the Kents. Unfortunately, what little of Diana's relatives she considered true family were out of contact. They just needed one person who could claim her and mean it, but although she was close with a number of people, including his family, they had always labeled it as a friendship. He was kicking himself for that now, but how was he supposed to know—

"You can not find family for her then?" The alien's smarmy voice interrupted his thoughts as the being's smile widened. "She will just have to stay here then. We are so glad to host her—"

The doors, enormous and more literal incarnations of the god's power than physical objects, slammed open with a bang that echoed through the room. The god's head jerked around and they began standing up. One of the priests screamed, "Who dares intrude upon this sacred space?"

Between the open doors stood a boy. A teenager really, with floating white hair and inhuman green eyes, wearing a black and white suit. He waved. "Hey. I'm Danny." His bright smile was incongruous with the tense atmosphere, and every fiber of Bruce's being screamed with wariness. "That's my cousin over there. You know, the one you're planning on keeping prisoner."

"What. Diana—"

Clark was turning to her as Diana kept her eyes on the new threat, and she hissed back. "I don't know Clark. You've met all of my family. I don't know this boy."

The teenager in question stalked forward down the court, stopping between the god and the three justice league members. He moved oddly, too flexible and not as affected by gravity as he should be, and Bruce carefully took notice of what he saw. Oftentimes, when a being was non-human, the weak spots Batman depended on in a fight were in different places, so close observation was necessary if things dissolved into a battle.

The monarch's next words were an affronted rumble that did not lower Bruce's worries about a fight. "She does not know you, boy."

"No," Danny agreed. "We haven't met. Old family disagreements, you know the drill. Grandfather didn't want to impose, and I followed his lead." He tilted his head like a cat. "Doesn't mean I can't claim her, though."

"Grandfather?" Diana muttered next to Bruce in confusion.

The boy turned to her. "Mmhmm. He would have come himself, but by the time he saw what was going on, he was in the middle of something that would be dangerous to put down. He couldn't get a hold of your father, so he sent me instead." His face morphed into something bashful for a moment. "Sorry, I'm so late."

"It does not matter that you are late," the alien monarch snarled. They were fully standing up now, holding a dangerous-looking spear in their hands. It didn't look like the rest of the mrydonian weaponry Bruce had seen. He wondered if it was stolen just like they stole people. The god continued, "She does not recognize you as family, it is not mutual, it does not matter."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Danny exclaimed cheerfully. "By your own words, you 'respect other cultural understandings of family than your own.' Well," the boy bared his teeth in a grin. He had far too many of them, and they were far too sharp to fit in the reality Bruce knew, making him wonder which branch of Diana's family tended towards the Eldritch. As the boy spoke, the words began to gain a hint of static. "In the culture of my people, one can claim another as family without it being mutual and it still holds up in a court of law as long as the other does not outright refute the relationship." He swiveled towards Diana. "I assume you're not?"

She shook her head even as her eyes remained hawk-fierce on him.

"So, I may not be her cousin, but she is mine, and since that would be accepted in my culture, you have to let her go, by your own rules."

"Do not patronize me in my own domain, boy." The ground shuddered with the god's words.

The teenager snarled right back, a deep rattling thing that reminded Bruce of an avalanche, and he lifted off the ground. He had a cloak that looked like someone had woven the night sky into armored cloth and a sword of black ice on his hip. Neither were there a couple of seconds ago, yet they felt like they'd been there the whole time. "Try me," Danny snarled. "My own domain isn't as far as you think."

The air grew tenser and tenser before it finally snapped. "Fine! She is your family. You may take her. Leave now or my generosity may not hold." The alien god stormed out with their head held high, but there was a definite sense of loss in the way they retreated.

Danny turned back to them. He landed on the ground in front of Diana, missing his war regalia again.

"Sorry that took so long! He was surprisingly stubborn."

"It's fine," Diana said warily. "Thank you… cousin."

The boy's eyes widened before he started to beam.

Diana continued. "Can I ask who is the grandfather we're related to?"

"You know him as Kronos."

All three of the Justice Leaguers froze. Diana's mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, but Clark at least managed to keep his wits about him. "Kronos is dead."

Danny turned to him curiously. "So?"

"So he's not alive," Clark stressed. "He couldn't have sent you."

Danny looked at him for a moment and burst out laughing. When his laughter calmed he said, "A god is still a god when they are dead, and the soul of a god is not nearly so easy to destroy as the body. Who do you think has been repairing the time stream after all the time travel you heroes do?" he asked wryly.

"If Kronos was still existent," Diana said firmly, "we'd know. He'd have already tried to take the cosmic throne again."

The teenage… being's gaze was inscrutable. "Would he? Really? Where are you getting that information?"

Diana sputtered. "It's common knowledge!"

Danny said dryly, "So you don't even have a first-hand account?"

"Well I certainly haven't seen any evidence to the contrary," she snapped back.

Danny was suddenly the most serious Bruce had seen him since he entered the palace. "He likes baking. He makes amazing persimmon cookies, and he's been trying to figure out a cinnamon roll recipe he likes. One time when I was upset he tricked the Observants into dying their capes rainbow. None of them ever figured out it was him, but he still brings me back to that moment when I need cheering up." The boy's expression softened as he looked at the woman who he had claimed as a cousin of his own accord. "When he realized he wouldn't be able to come himself to help you, he was furious. He had to use a lot of power to get me here on time, but he would have thrown away twice as much if it was for family."

Diana's face was working its way through a series of emotions, and Danny seemed to grow embarrassed by everything he'd said. "I should go so you can get home. I hang around in Illinois if you ever want to find me." He lifted off the ground, reaching out to tear some kind of portal open in the air. He turned back for a moment before he left. "Grandfather goes by Clockwork, nowadays. He'll answer to that if you ever need him." Then the boy was gone.

#danny phantom #fandom stuff #dp x dc #danny fenton #diana prince #wonder woman #Clockwork is Kronos #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, poorly translated Russian, mentions of CSA/trafficking, mentions of death, emotional repression of childhood trauma, Bucky nightmares, bonding over trauma, some fluff and comfort.

Word Count: 2.6k

Previously On...: You literally ran into Bucky in the hallway outside your rooms and bond over a shared love of Middle Earth like the fucking nerds you are. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: I know this part introduces some heavy backstory for our Dear Reader. Please know writing this for her has been a therapeutic exercise for me in dealing with trauma from my own childhood, which, coincidentally, has been shoved back into the forefront of my life recently, forcing me to re-evaluate things I thought I had processed. Please know that I'm not approaching this subject flippantly, and her reactions/attitudes have been based on my own healing (or rather, suppressing) journey.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic @marcswife21

Your friendship with Bucky only continued to grow from there. There was something about him, his quiet demeanor, his gentle sense of humor, that made you feel an immediate connection with him, as if you'd known him for ages instead of just a few weeks. You weren't one to open up to others easily; it had taken you over a year to trust that Tony didn't have any ulterior motives for befriending you, but with Bucky, it was effortless, as if you couldn't have stopped it even if you wanted to.

About three weeks into his residency at the Tower, you were exposed to your first instance of one of Bucky's nightmares. He'd told you he frequently had them, but you'd yet to experience one firsthand. You hadn't been able to sleep-- your own losing battle with insomnia--, so you were coming back up from getting a late night snack in the communal kitchen when you heard the muffled shouting coming from behind his door. At first, you were going to ignore it, sure that it was his television, but you heard him utter a single, desperate "Pozhaluysta," the sound of it so heartbreaking that your breath caught in your lungs. Please.

Crossing over to Bucky's door, you knocked softly. "Bucky? It's Pocket. Are you okay? I heard shouting." You waited for an answer... but nothing. Taking a step closer, you put an ear to the door, holding your breath. You could make out the sound of frantic thrashing, cries of "Net!" and then a whimper. He sounded like he was in trouble, like he was in pain.

"FRIDAY," you said to the AI that ran the tower, "open the door."

"I'm sorry, Ms. (Y/L/N), but Sergeant Barnes has locked his door for the evening."

"For fucks' sake, FRIDAY," you muttered. "Enact override protocol 346.78C." There was no point in being the Avenger's resident computer genius if you couldn't hack their home automation system, was there? You heard the click of Bucky's door unlocking. Turning the handle and hoping that asking him for forgiveness was easier than asking for permission, you stepped inside.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once you were able to make out shapes in the gloom of the darkened suite, you saw that the layout was relatively similar to your own. You made your way over to the bed, expecting to see Bucky writhing on it in the midst of his nightmare, but it was empty, stripped of all bedding, just a bare mattress.

Then you heard him, thrashing from the space between the bed and the wall. You shuffled over to the other side and found the super soldier lying on the floor, tangled in his sheets. A thin sheen of sweat covered his naked torso, a pair of sweat pants riding low on his hips. His face was contorted in agony as his head twisted from side to side.

"Net! Net!" he cried out in Russian, fighting off invisible assailants, "Pozhaluysta, ne nado! Eto bol'no!" No! No! Please, no! It hurts!

It physically pained your heart to see him struggling like this, so you did the first thing that came to mind-- you threw yourself across him, wrapping your arms around his body and holding him in place, whispering back to him in Russian: "Ty v poryadke, ty v poryadke. Ty v bezopasnosti. Nikto ne mozhet prichinit' tebe vred." You're okay, you're okay. You're safe. No one can hurt you. "I've got you, Bucky. You're safe."

It was a long moment before you realized that his thrashing had stopped, his heartbeat had slowed, and he had wrapped his arm around you, holding you to him as if you were a lifeline.

You pulled back, allowing him to sit up.

"Pocket?" he asked, voice laced with confusion at seeing you, as though he wasn't sure if he was actually awake or not. "What are you doing here? And... were you speaking Russian, or was I dreaming?"

Suddenly shy, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, avoiding looking at him. Jesus. He literally just woken up to you throwing yourself on top of him. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered. "I was walking by, and it sounded like you were having a nightmare. I was worried, so I came in to check on you. I'll let you go back to sleep. Sorry." You got up to go, but his hand reached out and encircled your wrist, gently holding you in place.

"No," he murmured, pulling you back down to the floor next to him. "You were right, I was having a nightmare. I... I told you I get them, sometimes. Memories, really. Of things Hydra... did to me. Things they... things they made me do. Thank you," he looked up at you, catching your eyes through the darkness and holding your gaze. "Thank you for waking me up, for taking me out of it."

You gulped, the night becoming far more intimate than you could have anticipated when you went downstairs to grab a pint of ice cream earlier. You forced a smile. "Of course. What are friends for?"

"Are we?" he asked, his voice suddenly low, causing a pool of warmth to collect in the bottom of your stomach. "Friends?"

"Of course, Buck." You gave him a concerned look. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because I'm a monster, Pocket." Bucky lowered his head in his shame. "I'm a murderer and a monster."

"Oh, Bucky, no." You took his chin into your hands and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. "Sweetie, no, you're not. You were a victim. You didn't consent to a single thing Hydra made you do. I know that it's going to take you a long time to believe that, but it's the truth. I promise you it is." He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Pocket, do you think..." he looked away from you, almost shyly, "do you think you could stay? After a nightmare, I... Well, I don't really like being alone."

"And Rogers isn’t one for midnight cuddling, huh?" you teased, a playful smile on your lips. You couldn't see it, but you could practically feel the sardonic look he was giving you. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Yes, I'll stay. But Bucky, I have one rule--"

"I'll keep my hand to myself and be a perfect gentleman, I promise," he said solemnly.

"Pfft," you scoffed. "I don't give a shit about that. Be as handsy as you want. No, my one rule is: I am not sleeping on the fucking floor." Bucky rewarded you with another one of his genuine laughs. You couldn't articulate how happy it made you feel knowing that you were the cause of that laughter.

"You got it," he said, as he stood up and began to move his sheets and pillows back to the bed. "Nothing but the best for you, doll."

Your insides glowed at this new nickname, and you were positive he was going to notice how his words made you light up in the dark. You busied yourself with helping him make up the bed before crawling under the covers. You tried not to be too obvious as you inhaled the scent of Bucky on the pillowcase. He smelled like cedar and leather and something unidentifiable that was just so quintessentially Bucky that it had become your favorite scent. You wanted to bottle it up and use it like a fabric spray so you'd always be surrounded by it. 

The bed dipped as Bucky got in, pulling the covers up over himself. "Thank you for this, Pocket," he whispered.

You turned onto your side to face him. "Of course. Any time, Bucky; I sincerely mean that. I know what it's like; I have them, too."

"You do?" You felt him reach for you in the dark, taking your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. "You can tell me about them. If you want to."

You nodded, before realizing he probably couldn't see you, so you hummed an affirmative. There was something about the cover of night that made you feel brave, safe in opening up to Bucky; you found yourself wanting to tell him what kept you awake at night. You took a deep breath.

"I... didn't have the best childhood," you began, trying to keep your voice steady. "My father took off before I was old enough to even remember what he looked like, and my mother was always more interested in getting high than she was with being a parent. I was in and out of foster care for a while when I was a little girl." Buck squeezed your hand in sympathy and you continued: "Then she got this boyfriend, Darren." God, even now, the taste of his name on your tongue was like bitter bile. "For a little while, things were… better. Mom got her shit together enough that Social Services sent me back to live with her. I could almost believe that things were going to be okay. I mean, we even stayed in the same place for more than six months. I went to school regularly. It almost made me feel like a normal kid."

"What happened?" You barely heard Bucky's whispered question. You let out a harsh, disillusioned laugh.

"Puberty," you told him. "I turned eleven, got boobs and suddenly Darren's paying a lot more attention to me." You felt Bucky tense in the bed beside you. "Of course, that's entirely my fault, right?" you continued. "At least according to my mother. They started fighting more often, and she went back to the booze and meth. Stopped giving a shit about everything. Going to work, paying bills, making sure I went to school, whether or not I even ate. Only thing that mattered was where the next fix was going to come from." You took a breath. This next part was the hardest, and Tony was the only one you'd ever told the entire truth of the matter to.

"And with Mom incapacitated, boyfriend feels he's got free reign," Bucky supplied for you.

"Yeah," you swallowed, grateful you hadn't needed to actually say it, yourself.

"Pocket," Bucky began, "that's aw--"

"There's more," you admitted before he could continue. "Darren liked to bet on horses but, like absolutely everything else he ever did, he was complete shit at it. Ended up owing some horrible guys a lot of money. There was no way in hell he'd have been able to come up with it, so he... proposed a trade."

"God," Bucky breathed. "Oh, Pocket. I am so, so sorry."

"Thanks," you said, wishing that was the end of it, but knowing that you still weren't finished. "Darren realized he had a valuable commodity that a, uh, certain kind of man would pay good money for, and he wasn't just going to let such a lucrative income stream go to waste. He was an idiot, but he wasn't that dumb."

Next to you, Bucky sucked in a breath. You could practically feel him vibrating with anger for your younger self. "How long?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Seven years, more or less. When I turned 18, I grabbed every important document I could get my hands on, hightailed it to Boston and never looked back. But the memories, the nightmares? They still haunt me. Even after all this time, they’ve never fully gone away. So, you know, I get it."

There was silence for a moment, but then Bucky cleared his throat and asked: "Where is he now?"

"He's got himself a nice little plot of land in Pensacola," you said, a smile ghosting your face.

"So, he got off Scott-free." Bucky's voice was a low growl.

"Oh, I didn't say that, you said slyly. "That nice little plot is a pauper's grave at Pensacola Federal Prison Camp. Bastard got himself shanked in the slammer about ten years ago. Happiest day of my fucking life.

Bucky's laugh was low and dry. "What about your mom? Please tell me she got what she deserved, too."

You shifted slightly, propping your head up onto your hand. "Honestly, I have no idea what happened to her. The way she drank, she's probably long dead by now, and I could honestly not care less. That's why I have everyone call me Pocket." Bucky moved to mirror your position, using a pillow to prop himself up instead of an arm, so you were laying eye to eye, only a few inches separating your faces.

"Okay, explain to me how that makes sense," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm breath fanning pleasantly across your skin.

His touch was gentle and you found yourself subtly leaning into it. "My legal name is (Y/N)," you told him. "It was my mother's name, too. I know that 'Pocket's a ridiculous nickname, but when people call me that, it's like I'm someone else, someone new. I'm not that scared little girl that had all those horrible things happen to her. I'm someone I made myself into." Your voice had dropped to barely a whisper as you admitted it to him.

He studied you for a moment before speaking, voice low. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Pocket." 

You let out a small laugh. "I think we might need to make each other some matching friendship bracelets or something after all of this sharing," you told him. Bucky laughed with you, and the tension that had been hovering in the air lessened. You hadn't meant to get so deep into your personal history, or to get emotional, but sharing your story with Bucky brought you a sense of relief; at the very least, you'd helped take Bucky's mind off of his own nightmares, even if it had meant delving back into your own.

You both fell silent for a moment, and then Bucky spoke again, his voice soft and hesitant. "Pocket, can I ask you something? A favor?"

You looked at him, noticing how his eyes glinted in the dark. "Yeah, of course, Bucky. What's up?"

He swallowed audibly, his grip returning to your hand. "I don't want to overstep or make you uncomfortable, so maybe this is too much to ask, but… do you think…  maybe we could… I don't know… be there for each other? You know, when we have nightmares? Just... hold each other, maybe?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your mind suddenly racing with implications. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting? Did he want to… cuddle with you? Your body was suddenly acutely aware of how close you were to him, of the heat that radiated off of his body. You licked your lips before answering, your voice coming out a little huskier than you intended. "I mean… I wouldn't be opposed to that. If you think it would help, then I'm all for it."

Bucky let out a small sigh of relief, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "Thank you, Pocket. You have no idea how much it means to me."

You leaned into his touch, a shiver running down your spine at the gentleness of it. "I think I might. I mean, I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know what it's like to feel scared and alone."

Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead as he whispered, "Neither of us have to be alone anymore. We'll be here for each other."

And then, without another word, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart, steady and strong, and the warmth that radiated off of him made you feel safe, taken care of. You wrapped your arms around him in return, feeling a new sense of peace and security you hadn't known in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic

[cursedvida]

Something about Y/N is a bounty hunter and she has been hired to catch Buggy. She infiltrates his crew to gain access to him. At first she thinks he's crazy and ridiculous duda with all his shows and bravado, but eventually she realises that she has feelings for him?

Well i liked this prompt so... I made something angst because yeah.

PART II // PART III // PART IV // PART V // PART VI // PART VII

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE (Buggy x f!Reader)

A/N: i'm not really happy about the result but english isn't my first language and it's been a while since i used to write in this language. Sorry for the typos.

Warnings: just angst, swearing and the reader falling for a sad clown.

Wondering how you could have got in that situation was redundant. You knew perfectly well why you were there. It was part of your job, if hunting pirates could be considered as such. Well, it fed you, and for a person who cared little or nothing about anything but staying alive, how you got things was secondary. So when you received the assignment to hunt down Buggy the Clown for almost double his bounty you didn't have to think too hard about it. With an amount like that you could rest for several months without worrying about the money. You didn't know or care about who was after this guy or what they wanted to do with him, all you could see was the string of zeros in the offer. At the time that was enough for you. 

But that thought only lasted for a short period of time. The Clown was not just another regular pirate, he was a big shot. The guy had been nominated as a candidate to be a Warlord, which meant he was no ordinary pirate, and his special skills - which you had researched - made him someone not to be underestimated. 

Whoever was interested in getting him had to have good reasons, something you were not interested in at all, but as you got to know your target better you blamed yourself for not having demanded a higher price. Especially since catching Buggy was no easy task, he had a reputation for always moving around guarded by his crew, which made him slightly inaccessible prey. However, when you finally caught up with him and his crew, all the imaginings you had built up in your head disappeared in one fell swoop. 

Buggy the Clown was, as his name said, a clown. A real fucking clown who spent his days bragging about his fucking antics and didn't know what it meant to shut the fuck up because he was always in dire need of being heard and being the centre of attention.He wasn't a fearsome pirate, he was a narcissist with an excessive need for attention who told far-fetched stories about great feats that no one in their right mind would believe him capable of. He was ridiculous, and the worst thing was that his comrades adored him, they had almost a special veneration for him. You couldn't understand him, he became hysterical at the drop of a hat, he was hypersensitive to any comment that wasn't literally an offering to his self-proclaimed divine power and would go from over-excitement to melodrama in a millisecond. The only thing that was clear to you was that feigning adoration for this jerk to fit in with his band of morons made you sick.

Joining his crew wasn't too difficult - ego-hungry men are the easiest to cajole-. All you had to do was pretend to be a poor, helpless little girl without much talent who had wanted to be a pirate for years and had heard amazing stories about this genius jester who had not only terrorized the East Blue, but had become one of the most feared pirates on the Great Line.Buggy didn't even pay much attention to you, you was too ordinary to interest him, something that suited you. 

"Of course you've heard of me," he told you that first time you met him, when you managed to catch him in a tavern after following him for days. "Hey guys, our little friend says she's heard about the great Buggy!"

That whole gang of freaks started laughing non-stop, as if what you had just said was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Buggy turned to you again. 

"Okay, honey, what can you do for me?"

"Anything I can be useful for."

Trying not to sound too intense - so as not to sound suspicious - you insisted that you wanted the chance to learn on such a famed crew, to please give you the opportunity. The same night you were given a bucket, a mop and welcomed as an unimportant cabin girl. Just as you wanted. 

The idea was to lay low until you had been cleaning up vomit and serving drunks long enough to have access to the captain. You knew there was no point in trying to cut him because of his powers, and if you tried to tie him up he would escape, so the only way to make sure you could catch him was to drug him. 

The plan was a slam dunk. Wait until the key moment to attack and that's it, even if the waiting included having to put up with the bunch of weirdos that made up the crew and the attention whore of their captain, who seemed to have an allergy to normality. 

Yes, it was a piece of cake, or at least that's what you thought until that day when everything began to take a turn for the worse that you could never have imagined. 

"Oh, excuse me captain"

It was a night like so many others. The crew had managed to embezzle from a rich family and had pocketed a handful of gold. In the face of such success they had not missed the opportunity to celebratre: litres and litres of beer, sake, rum and all kinds of alcohol. Food to rave about. The crew circus that Buggy was leading that night was a complete madness. You, on the other hand, remained sober, in the shadows. You picked up jugs, replenished them, swept up some of the mess... Everything you'd expect from a rookie being used as a maid.

At such moments Buggy loved to strut his stuff more than ever. He used to stand in the centre of the deck, surrounded by his entire fan club, get on a box or powder keg and start his show. He would talk about how wonderful he was, how powerful and rich they would all become by being with him, and he would emphasise considerably all that he had done to achieve the goal. So it was strange enough for you not to have seen him bragging around for the last hour, but stranger still to find him down in the cellars with his back against a row of beer barrels and his gaze lost in infinity. 

Buggy was drunk. Very drunk. At that moment you thought maybe the time had come, when would you have a better chance? He was totally idioticated by alcohol, perfect for noqueating it. And his crew all drunk, no one would notice what was going on. 

You came out of your role of useless servant, your senses sharpened, your muscles in tension. The time had come before even your personal deadline was fulfilled, you thought it was your lucky night, but at that moment Buggy noticed your presence, looking at you with glassy eyes and lost because of the drunkenness, and there was something in that look that made you feel a slight sneezing in the stomach that you had never experienced before. 

"Oh, it's you, uh... uh..." he scratched his fingers, trying to remember something. 

"Y/N, Captain," you answered with a fist. The bastard didn't even remember your name. 

“Yeah, exactly…" he said to himself. His head crumbled a little. 

He didn't wear the hat, nor the coat. Her makeup was a little rushed because of the hours he had already been at the party, and his eyes were still lost somewhere you didn't know, but for some reason it caused you so much curiosity that anything else slipped out of your head. 

"Can I help you with something?" You asked, with your most innocent voice. 

Buggy stayed looking at his jar for a few moments and then turned to you again. 

"Do you think I need help, baby?" His mocking tone seemed to indicate no, but his desolate expression said the opposite. "Do you think a pirate like me needs help?"

"I didn't want to offend you, sir..."

When he saw how you apologized, he laughed, a loud sound, but lacking fun in the tone. In fact, his laughter sounded cold to you. Then you realized that Buggy was not laughing anymore, but was breathing a huge sigh. 

"It's better not to need help nor need anyone.  At the end you're always alone"

His voice suddenly darkened and, for the first time since you were on that boat, you felt real curiosity for the man you had in front of you. There was something dark in his gaze, a face of lost innocence that seemed irremediably familiar to you. Without realizing it, you had lowered the guard, and that was only the beginning of your great end. 

"You're not alone, Captain." You told him, trying stupidly to keep your role. "Everyone  in this crew is with you, and everyone adores you."

"Of course they love me" He answered, slightly offended, and then became blue again. It was then that he looked directly at you, and it was that look that suddenly passed through you. There was fury in his eyes, but also another very different feeling, you could see in them something sad and broken, so sad and so broken that you had terrible desires to reassemble it immediately. "Don't you believe it, Y/N?"

The question makes you uninterested, or too distracted. 

“What...? that they adore you, sir?"

"No, shit" he cried, shaking at the drunkard. “that we are always alone."

“So…” You was shocked, it’s possible that you didn’t know what to answer? It wasn't even a complicated or out of place question, what the fuck had you been thinking about? Fuck, what happened to you? "Well... I..." You had to react, you were shivering, you didn't shiver. You took air, trying to get back to your boats, and then you turned to him again. "Didn't we all be born alone?" 

"What?"

"We are born alone and we die alone," you said. "And we live together in the meantime. But we are born alone and we die alone." 

He kept watching you. You didn't know if he was trying to process your words because due to the state of drunkenness in which he was probably not processing half of what was happening around him, or if he really was trying to analyze you. It was somewhat difficult to discern when someone was drunk, the line between curiosity and ethyl coma was complicated. 

It was probably the first time Buggy really noticed you since you got on the boat. Because you didn't want to be noticed, he didn’t notice you, you were good at hiding. But now he had all his attention on you and something shrunk inside you, like you missed the air. You suddenly found yourself thinking that maybe he wasn't as stupid as you thought he was. Maybe that whole facade of bravado and arrogance was just a way to make up all his insecurities,. Maybe at the end he just was a broken man behind so much show. In that moment, as his gaze clawed into yours, you realized that he even seemed attractive to you. And that moment you had to look away, horrified by everything that was going on in your head, but what the hell?

"It's an interesting answer," he murmured. 

"I have to... I have to go re-set the barrels" you finally said, you had to get out of there, the atmosphere had suddenly darkened "I'm sorry, captain."

And as you went out sparkled back to the deck, you noticed something that made you absolutely horrified: you were totally noisy. 

From that night on, Buggy decided that you weren't going to be an anonymous person to him. It's not that he left everything he was doing to talk to you, but when you crossed each other, he always greeted you. And you discovered that, in some way that you were unable to understand, you were beginning to have a very strong crush for a guy who uses make up to painted his face like a clown and was a little bit older for you. 

The more interactions you had with him - very little really, nothing even remotely similar to that night - the more you realized that your contempt for all that circus roll and the freaks making shows had clouded your ability to analyze. Buggy wasn't an idiot. Well, he was, but he also turned out to be a very smart man, was good at planning and a real genius at tricks. Furthermore, despite being always talking about himself and being quite despotic, he really cared about the crew and had respect for them. At the end, you thought that he was simply growing up child  with anger problems, and that was really charming to you. 

So there you are now, you have a fucking crush on the guy you had to kidnap, not knowing what the hell to do because it's the first time in your life that something like this happens to you and feeling ridiculous at the same time because you look like a super stupid fifteen-year-old bitch. You've killed more people than you can count, you've broken bones, cut necks, ripped teeth off, but suddenly you meet that idiot clown and everything, absolutely everything you have worked on so far goes to shit. And the worst part is that you don't even care because you're too worried looking at him from a distance like stupid fool. 

"Hey, Y/N" 

It's Cabaji's voice that gets you out of your mind. Since you had that meeting with Buggy in the cellars you're no longer dedicated to cleaning and serving, now you clean and fix things. It's kind of an promotion, but really no. 

"What's going on?"

"Have you seen the two who came yesterday? You know... those who talked about joining the crew."

"No idea"

Cabaji sits carelessly, your voice has not shaken a single moment. You remember them, of course, a couple of friends wanting to become pirates. And of course you will not tell Cabaji that you had no choice but to open their heads and leave them on the other end of the island when you heard one of the two commenting something about the captain being very attractive and. That information don¡t fit well with your image of a worthless rookie, and it would also be like assuming you have more childish jealousy starts than teenagers and therefore accepting that you're reaching very worrying levels of encapsulation. 

Actually, since you found out how much you like Buggy, there are a lot of things you can't say. For example that you were the one who left that bitch without legs when he dared to make a comment about Buggy’s nose on the last island you passed. Neither can you tell the guys who hired you to hunt him that you don't plan on doing your job and that you've long abandoned that idea. Of course, can't say to some of your colleagues you're in that crew because you want it and not for work. But most of all, you can't tell Buggy that you'd love to know what it's like to kiss a man with a broken smile and sad eyes, but you would be willing to admit any of your other secrets before the last one.

#buggy #buggy imagine #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy headcanons #buggy the clown imagine #buggy the flashy fool #buggy x you #op buggy #buggy live action #buggy one piece #buggy pirates #captain buggy #buggy d clown

[kremlin]

An earnest call for your support: Help me determine if there is a gas leak in my house.

for a long time now, I have been reading and hearing about This Guy on the news, and have been reading all the articles and stories about him:

Above: Sam, tenting his weird-ass fucked up fingers like a real Wall Street Guy might do in a movie he saw

Yep, you already know this guy, his name is Sam, I'll be referring to him as Sam, as that is his first name, and not by his initials, which is what I imagine a pod person might do in an attempt to emulate human behaviour. Whatever. You already know him and what he did, I won't waste your time. Listen. Pay attention. This is not a post about this guy or what he did. That shit is boring as fuck. This is a post about a potential gas leak in my house. We'll get to that in just a bit. Remember.

I've read all the articles and all the op-eds and everything. About Sam. Let us explore the entire spectrum of media coverage of Sam and Sam's Big Ass Problem, starting from the bottom, with the worm-food-tier jackasses: What do people like Jim Cramer and Shark Tank Guy have to say about him?

Above: CNN's "Mad Money" Jim Cramer also doing a weird hand gesture while he tells your alcoholic cable-news-addicted uncle to put his money in some dumbass shit

Above: I think this is the Shark Tank guy? I don't remember his name. Could have sworn his suit had dollar signs and not question marks (?)

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam is a boy genius who is super duper smart and can move objects with his massive brain due to knowing about Tech, FinDom FinTech, and computer money, specifically Money Coding. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court".

Moving on from the worm-food-tier to the mediocre-tier: The totally nameless basic bitch journalists at the New York Times or Bloomberg. What do these assholes have to say?

Above: Jim Fuckface, associate financial correspondent for Bloomberg. Jim enjoys winding down on a Friday afternoon by sipping a Bud Lite Lime and wearing his baseball cap backwards, which bears the logo of his local professional sports team.

Above: Kate Fuckface, columnist at the New York Times. Kate enjoys spending her time chatting and interacting with her friends on Social Media Platforms like Facebook and Instagram, as well as purchasing items on Etsy

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Displaying the characteristic awkwardness of incredible technical and financial genius, it was clear to me during our interview that Sam's depth of knowledge truly knew no bounds. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

Finally moving on to the people that might actually have a clue about what they're talking about. Sam Levine and Michael Lewis:

Above: Matt Levine, author of a comedy email newsletter named Money Stuff that is 95% financial information by weight and somehow still usually funny as fuck.

Above: Michael Lewis, author of a bunch of really good books you haven't read that were made into pretty decent movies you have seen: Moneyball and The Big Short.

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam sure is a smart kid and seems to know a whole lot about economics and this digital currency, and I mean a whole lot, and even more about business, accounting, and finance. Bright kid! Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

A pretty goddamn clear consensus across the board on both counts.

I listened to the interviews the entire spectrum of people listed above conducted with him -- the ones during which they unanimously concluded how smart he is. I listened to many hours of ad-hoc, unscripted Twitter Space calls he participated in, where he fielded questions about his fraud and his business with complete strangers. I listened to them very carefully. And here is my problem! I came to a different conclusion!

Sam is a fucking moron. I am not talking about solely his intellect, or solely his decision-making abilities, or any specific criteria. I am talking about all of them.

There are two possibilities:

(A) I am correct and, somehow, literally everyone else is incorrect, most of whom know vastly more about these topics than I do

(B) There is a fucking gas leak in my house and I have completely lost all cognitive abilities, suddenly and unwittingly, and exist in a cartoon reality inside my skull that would allow me to reach such a wildly different conclusion from the same evidence.

The likelihood of (A) being correct is very nearly 0%. I mean, come on. I am not fucking around when I tell you how troubling this is for me. I wrote earlier that this isn't a post about Sam or his bullshit. This is a post asking for your help in determining whether I have lost my god damn marbles.

I'll give Sam one thing -- he has some nominal ability to bullshit. If he's writing a Tweet, or making a short statement, he can finesse his words that, on some level, mask how much of a dimwit he is. He absolutely can't do that through about six hours of unscripted interviews. Listen to that shit. Listen.

I am going to go check all the joints in the gas lines in my house as well as the ports on my stove and heater. I'll come back and write a follow-up post on outlining exactly why I think homeboy is an idiot. While I do that, please, go listen to the interviews and tell me what you think.

#words

[thevillainswhore]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)

Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!

A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗

So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹

Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight. 

Did it matter anyway? 

The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong. 

It was frustrating. 

You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure. 

When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down. 

You were gullible; so naive.

The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.

That’s when you walked into my life, Angel. 

It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.

He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.

 

He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again. 

That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it. 

It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.  

Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.

That is until he’s stopped in his tracks. 

The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello. 

The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.

Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.

That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back. 

He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?” 

The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil.  Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office. 

His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall. 

You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that. 

Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day. 

Who the fuck is she? 

The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind. 

“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?” 

“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.” 

Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”

The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words. 

Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you. 

It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem. 

“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”

“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding. 

The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”

Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too. 

The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.

The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool. 

Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.

“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?” 

Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.

To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?” 

Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”  

As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock. 

The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited. 

Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?” 

“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily. 

Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”

You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips. 

His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You. 

The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha. 

After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.” 

Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.

“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.

Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him. 

Carter. 

Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you –  the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted. 

You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.

Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life.  Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.

Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you. 

He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.  

Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”

The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give. 

“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”

Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend. 

The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half,  almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation. 

Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.

He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations. 

You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation. 

Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities. 

The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs. 

It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.

Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody. 

I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me. 

Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can. 

He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity. 

The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine. 

Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day.  No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.

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