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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 16 days

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On Kurapika's Self-Imposed Isolation

While I recognize that probably everything I'm about to say is going to be super obvious, I just wanted to briefly touch on Kurapika's self-isolation, and the reason behind his not picking up his phone or exchanging anything more than clipped words and business after Yorknew.

I think the obvious answer is that Kurapika doesn't want his friends in harms way, or to be used as a bargaining tool against him. This is an understandable and probably accurate conclusion. After all, Gon and Killua did get taken hostage, and Kurapika was forced to negotiate an exchange. Chrollo picked up on Kurapika's "weakness" right away - that he values his friends' safety before his revenge. Fortunately for Kurapika in this situation, Pakunoda was a whole lot more similar to him than he would've cared to admit, as she placed a value on Chrollo's life even though everyone in the Spider was intended to be replaceable. So, now that he's been through Gon and Killua having potentially gotten killed or seriously hurt, and Chrollo knows that he has a soft spot for them, it does make sense that he would try to push them away for their safety and for the sake of not having an exploitable "weakness" in future. He may also not want to burden them more when they have their own lives to live - he does slip off without telling Gon and Killua for the sake of not distracting them from Nen training, after all.

Except that he already tried all this earlier in Yorknew arc. He tried to tell them they shouldn't get involved, and they all agreed that the risks were massive - but his friends agreed to undergo the risks anyways to help him. Kurapika was even grateful for it - "I have been blessed with good friends."

So, for him to push them away solely for this reason after the fact, knowing that this was very much a likely situation to happen, is a little odd to me. Kurapika knows full well that Leorio would be frustrated, Killua would be offended and Gon would worry. So, I think there's a little more to it than that, and I actually would venture to say that "keeping his friends out of danger" is more a secondary reason for his actions - one that would come across as more of a reasonable excuse to others.

The primary reason is likely a lot more selfish than that. Kurapika has to ensure his mission comes first. And unfortunately, he is fully aware that his path and choice in abilities is deeply self-destructive.

Kurapika needs to make sure that he doesn't have exploitable weaknesses, sure, but he also just as much needs to purposefully worsen his headspace - and he can't do that with those three around.

Think back, what are the happiest moments we see from Kurapika in the series? The one that comes to mind first, and the one I'm sure most of us will think of immediately, is this:

[ID: A screenshot from the 2011 anime adaptation. Kurapika smiles - he looks at ease. End ID.]

It's one of the sweetest scenes of the series imo, right before the whole group is reunited for the first time since the Zoldyck Family arc, and it's even more notable because it comes immediately on the tail end of this...

[ID: Three panels from HxH Chapter 101. Kurapika removes his contacts over the sink. His expression is distant. End ID.]

...and this...

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A close up of Kurapika's vacant and furious expression, his eyes wide and dangerous as he says "It might as well be you." Though the art is in black and white, it's apparent his eyes have gone scarlet. End ID.]

...and this.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A distant Kurapika speaks on the phone on a rooftop at night, the cityscape of Yorknew around him dark, but speckled with lights and stars. He says "The Spiders are dead." His face is not visible to the reader. End ID.]

This is, up to this point in the series, Kurapika at his lowest. In contrast to Gon, who is happy to hear that the Spiders are dead already because now Kurapika can focus solely on finding his peoples' eyes, Kurapika... is clearly not happy - and that's because killing the Spiders himself isn't just revenge. It's penance. It's survivor's guilt. Kurapika's powers, which Izunavi even comments sound much like he is chaining himself in the process of chaining his enemies, are oh-so-beautifully prophecied to destroy him - and Kurapika was aware of this from the moment he set off down this path of revenge.

(As a side note, this is why I'm really hoping we see Gon and Kurapika interact again after the Chimera Ant arc - while Gon has always been pretty attentive to Kurapika's emotional state, in Yorknew, he lacks a true understanding of why Kurapika would go so far... but as of now, he understands rage fueled by guilt and grief all too well. I know we're all rooting for Leorio to reach Kurapika, but barring that, I really think Gon could get through to him - after all, they are similar in several ways, and I find it fairly apparent that Gon reminds Kurapika of Pairo.)

But back to the main point here - I do suspect Kurapika expects (if not wants) his revenge mission to destroy him. I think a lot of times, we forget just how young Kurapika is, and how much his character is dictated by honour, and the abandonment of it.

Certainly, he can and will go against his principles for the sake of his mission... yet, almost paradoxically, he's bound to his promise to his fallen clan; a promise to avenge them made in anger.

But Kurapika... doesn't come across as a naturally angry person to me at all.

He seems like the stoic, vengeful type on his initial introduction... and then we get his panic at Gon's recklessness

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 2. Kurapika and Leorio wear matching expressions of panic in front of Gon, calling him out for his recklessness. End ID.]

...and his near-immediate forgiveness of Leorio after getting the first inkling of his character - of someone who cares just as fiercely as he does.

And after that point? Almost all through the Hunter Exam? Kurapika smiles so readily at them. He's sharp and funny. He mediates at times, but is stubbornly prideful in others. He's very amused by his friends' antics, and it really does seem like he starts to enjoy himself, with them. And, more than that, he counters Leorio's initial impression of him as an independent loner - on several occasions. He decides to follow Gon because Gon intrigues him. Asides from Gon, it is Kurapika who is the most unwilling to fight each other at the bottom of Trick Tower. Kurapika who makes the first move to team up with Leorio, even though that arrangement benefits Leorio much more than it does him. Kurapika who refuses to abandon Leorio to his fate in the cave, and who checks on Gon after noticing his bad mood. Who was furious enough watching him get beat down by Hanzo that his eyes went scarlet for the first and only instance outside of Spider mentions and Emperor Time. Who quite readily detoured to help rescue Killua.

[ID: Three screenshots from the 2011 adaptation Hunter Exam arc. In the first, Kurapika smiles at a sleeping Leorio. In the second, Kurapika stifles laughter as he pretends he's asleep. In the third, Kurapika has an open-mouthed smile as he acquires the airship tickets for them, Leorio and Gon standing behind him. End ID.]

Look at him! He's so bright! So happy!

...too happy. Too happy to do what he promised himself he would do. And that's his biggest fear, isn't it. Without his rage... what is he left with?

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 2. A close up of Kurapika's eye as he says "I do not fear death. What I fear is that my rage will one day fade away." End ID.]

Kurapika is far, far less mired in anger when he's with his friends. I actually dare to say that at certain points, he was able to go for lengths of time without thinking much about it - alternating between almost forgetting in one instance and being hit like a sledgehammer on exposure to a reminder in the next. This violent swing is... actually the beginnings of the natural process of healing from loss and trauma. But to Kurapika, who's made a promise to his people's memories, this is not a relief. This is betrayal.

I think that actually scares him, that he can almost picture it. A life beyond his guilt. That he, too, could learn to be happy, even after unimaginable loss.

And so, as Kurapika continues his mission offscreen, finding more and more gruesome reminders of the cruelty inflicted on his people and losing more and more pieces of himself in the process (in his own words, no less), he prioritizes his responsibility to them, and pushes away his distractions. He cannot be a soul at peace until his work is done; he must be in turmoil. He pushes people away who he cares for, and binds himself, and keeps his people's eyes on him, quite literally, because respite, for him, is unacceptable. Perhaps that guilty part of him even hopes, by the end of this, that his soul will be so unrecognizable as to be fundamentally unsalvageable. But the truth of the matter is, or at least what comes across to me, is that Kurapika cares much more fiercely than he hates. He knows what matters most. And for as long as he does, he still hasn't truly lost himself.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 350. Kurapika looks down at baby Woble with a gentle, yet complicated expression. The inking is somewhat softer. End ID.]

Kurapika's soul is kind, really. And it wants to heal - but for the sake of his mission, he needs it damaged and bleeding. And so, he forces himself to exist in that pain. All alone.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 344. Kurapika, dressed in a black suit, sits with his back to the reader, looking down at a photo in his hand. He is slumped a little before the church vigil he has prepared, all his clan's eyes lined up in their jars and honoured with flowers and candles. He thinks to himself "There is no home for me to return to... and nobody to welcome me back. I have nothing left." End ID.]

#thank you for coming to my ted talk on how kurapika is worsening his own mental health as well as physical health on purpose have a good day #oh my god this took me so long but it was worth it!!!#actual analysis!!! it's been so long!!!#anyways i'm far shakier on my hxh knowledge than other fandoms i've written meta for #so i hope this makes sense. i appreciate additions to it just please be polite!#i also believe that togashi's writing lends itself to multiple interpretations that are equally valid. so much of this #may be my own takeaway. but i do think there's enough evidence to support it #well. i hope you guys suffer... i mean enjoy.#storyrambles #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh meta #kurapika #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective #<-analysis tag i missed you

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nicole-alt-delete · 1 year

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Part 2 of Black Bandana!

Just as Robin is about to open the door and return to the hovel she and Steve consider a job, the door bursts open in front of her and Eddie Munson blazes past. She barely has time to process his greeting, let alone how red he looks.

"What was that about?" She questions, just briefly looking back at him as she makes her way to the counter, only to find Steve standing there looking shell shocked.

And quite possibly redder than Eddie was.

Robin might not be able to figure out what's going on in the Munson brain, but one look at Steve has her dropping their lunch on the counter in a hurry as her eyebrows shoot up and she leans in to whisper dramatically.

"Did something happen? You didn't tell him-?"

Despite still looking beyond flustered, Steve manages to snap out of it just so he can push her shoulder. "What? God, no- Rob, are you kidding- no, no.... He just uh. I.... I'm not sure what just happened, actually."

He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through that signature hair of his, and as Robin rolls her eyes and rounds the counter he's already got his hands on his hips as he enters his 'thinking mode'.

She takes a seat on another of the counters and reaches for her food, eager to find out just want transpired while she was out.

"Okay then dingus, you know the drill- from the top,"

Steve does a little head shake and starts pacing, taking a moment to go through it in his head, trying to figure out where exactly the top of the situation was. After a few moments of scrunched eyebrows and more head shaking, he finally looks around the store, making sure it's empty again.

"Okay, well... I guess... I mean I guess Eddie came out to me?"

Robin throws her hands up, the fries she was about to shove into her mouth forgotten in her excitement.

"What?! Well that's- that's perfect then right? I mean I told you so, first of all, but then. What's with all the...?" as she gestures to him, pointing out how tense and confused he looks.

Steve rolls his eyes, "No Robs, it's not perfect- it was a shitshow! It was totally an accident, it was like I forced him to say it- and he looked so terrified, I really didn't know those eyes of his could get any bigger. Someone came into the store and he ran away before I could even respond, I don't think he thinks..."

Another sigh as his voice drops a little to mumble, "He probably thinks I'm gonna punch him or some stupid shit,"

Robin frowns. "An accident... he came out to you on accident." Nodding a little like she gets it. She immediately shakes her head and squints, definitely not getting it at all.

"How did that happen, exactly?"

Steve leans against the opposite counter, the red returning to his face as he crosses his arms. "I guess... you know that bandana he always carries?"

She nods, "The one you stole to get a reaction from him, yeah. I assume he came to get it back like you wanted- so what went wrong?"

"Well- that's just it- you know how I had it in my pocket this morning? Just like he always does? I guess when he came in he saw, and he absolutely freaked the hell out. Jumped over the counter and nearly gave me a heart attack over it,"

Robin laughs, “Over the bandana?”

“Because it was in my pocket,”

She stares at him blankly.

"Because.... it was in your pocket."

He nods.

They blink at each other in silence for a moment, before finally Robin pulls her head back and makes this confused little sneer, setting aside her lunch altogether.

"What the fuck?"

Steve throws his arms up in exasperation, "I know! He freaked out and started talking about how it was some 'symbol' or something and then when I asked what it symbolized he said- he said it means he's gay. Which, okay, cool! We knew that Robs- but now what?!"

He sighs again and slinks down the side of the counter until he hits the floor. Robin doesn't even wait until his butt lands before she's on the ground with him, cross legged and resting her head in her hands.

"Okay, well... first off, forget the bandana thing. Your local lesbian's never heard of it so it can't really be that big of a deal, right? And what, so you wore it like that too. Not technically wrong..."

He rolls his eyes, "Eddie doesn't know-"

"So tell him, dingus! Like I've been telling you to! But no, Harrington has to 'put the moves on him' instead of just using his big boy words,"

She huffs softly and punches him in the shoulder lovingly, which Steve whines about.

"Ow, Robs- okay, I get it, I get it- he's not going to want to talk to me though,"

"Doesn't matter, if you don't do it then I'm making you do the closing clean for the next week, you hear me?"

Steve groans even louder this time, putting his head in his hands before running them through his hair, the classic Steve Reset Button(tm).

He nods, "Alright I'll go. You're worse than Dustin sometimes, you know that?"

She smirks and stands up, offering him a hand and yanking him back up too. "If Dustin was the one helping you with this you would have killed him by now, so we both know that's not true,"

Eddie jumped back in his van and sped back home just as fast as he legally could. Actually- that was a lie, he was definitely speeding. By a lot.

He had to get as far as he possibly could from Steve Harrington, and he had to do it yesterday.

After screeching into the trailer park and turning the ignition off as fast as humanly possible, he bolted inside and ran to his room, debating just how many things he really *needed* if he were to run away on the spot.

He’s seen what happens to gay kids in Hawkins, knows it’ll only be worse for him. The last thing he needed was to be both the falsely accused murderer AND the faggot. Not to mention the heartbreak of having Steve be the start of it…

Part of Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t. He really does try to believe it. But his instincts take over.

He grabs an old duffel bag and starts scrambling to put clothes in it, not bothering to check whether they're clean or dirty, just moving on anxious, paranoid instinct.

Thoughts race through his head about what Wayne will say, and how far away he should be before he calls. His heart aches at the idea of leaving behind Hellfire and his band, but he doesn't think he could stand to let either of them see him after Steve finds him and throws the first punch, or whether the kids would even care once he inevitably told them too.

He starts a pile at the foot of his bed, debating how much he can fit in the van, planning to leave during the night, figuring he has at least enough for gas to the next major city. He gets so caught up in his silly little escape plan that he doesn't realize how long it's actually taking him to "pack".

There's a knock on the door and Eddie nearly has a heart attack, jumping from the sound and immediately kicking his dresser, all thoughts completely gone from his head as he curses at the pain.

"Son of a FUCKING bitch, shitting stick- mother fucker- I'll be there in a damn second!" he huffs as there's a second, more timid knock.

Without thinking about any of the things he had just a moment ago been panicking over, he limps to the door and swings it open, ready to berate whoever bothered him, only to stop dead when he sees...

Steve. Of course it's Steve. He's not even taken off his stupid work vest yet and the little bottlecap button Eddie had made him last week was staring right at him from his chest.

Steve waves shyly at Eddie and starts to say something, but Eddie can't hear it, already backing away and starting to blabber, "Listen man- I was- I was joking earlier! I wouldn't- there's nothing to- you really don't have to hurt me or anything, I swear-"

Steve stays on the porch, looking a little stunned. No, not stunned... hurt. Or- maybe worried? He looks kind of like if you kicked a puppy and then threw it in the pool, except sadder.

Not actually, probably, but as far as Eddie's concerned, the look on Steve's face hurts him about a hundred times worse than a sad puppy could.

Steve puts a hand on the back of his neck, the other held up to show he means no harm, sighing, "I'm not gonna hurt you Eds, I'd never... I just wanted to talk, I um. I thought..."

He stammers for a second, unsure what else to say, caught in between thoughts and clearly unprepared for how Eddie had reacted.

Eddie can't help but relax a little. No matter how worried he was, being around Steve always made him relax, but seeing him like this? How was he supposed to be scared anymore?

Eddie groans a little, "Just- get in here Harrington, you're killing me- if there's some mob on their way you better get your shit together before they get here,"

Eek, here it is, part 2! Sorry for making y'all wait, I am famously bad at working on things so thank you all for your patience 🙏 There WILL absolutely be a part 3, (maybe a part 4 if I want to get spicy), so I'll try to tag as many people for that one as well. And thank you all so so much for your sweet comments! I've been in such an art block lately, so writing something for a change and getting all this positive feedback is so encouraging 💜

Tag list! I tried to get everyone, but tumblr was weird with some of them, so I hope you're seeing this if you asked <3

@goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @plutoshelm @jestyzesty @bisexualdisastersworld @sofadofax @bornonthesavage @awkwardgravity1 @trikigirl271 @thegayestpersonever @precursprandthedragon@mightbeasleep

@cherixxx69 @baron-zemo-trash @ilikechocolatemilkh @justforthedead89 @alienace @4nemo1egend @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @breealtair @shinekocreator @sleepdeprivedflower @justanothergirlwithobsessions

@bxlthazar @thegingervulcan @questionablequeeries @my2amgaythoughts @doilooklikebees @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @luthienstormblessed @joruni @drinkingforthesociallyanxious @largechaos @dangdirtydemons @faery-god

@satan-is-obsessed @vi-an-te @beckkthewreck @kori-dearest @the-s-is-silent @hellomynameismoo @commonxsenss @blues-tunes @lizard-dyk3 @the-long-gone-souls @paddington22017 @imeverycliche @tungledotfuck @inmoonywetrust @dreammetheworld08 @dazedandinked @escapingthereality

#Nico's writing #Ficlet #Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 #stranger things fic #steddie fic #thank you to my bestie val for beta reading this one #cw f slur #y'know the standard 80s homophobia #it's only imagined though #nothing actually happens to them <3 #also fuck it im posting this at 3am #enjoy the breakfast y'all

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hailsatanacab · 1 year

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@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie.

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?”

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?”

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information.

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

#dpxdc #danny phantom batman #danny phantom crossover #damian wayne/dani phantom #do they have a ship name? probably but idk it sorry #this was fun!! damian is strong and smart and capable and he won't let this stop him!#sure it's a shock but what does that matter when he has the love of his life by his side!!#he can get through this! at least his girlfriend's brother/original/...father? can't get his knight to stab him #that's a point in truce day's favour - even if damian is regretting asking to be introduced #in ellie's defence she thought he knew! he's slightly liminal himself she just assumed he could pick it up! ... he could not.#when they actually get there damian loves it - he fits right in with all the ghosts #there's a little adjustment period where he is VERY prickly with everyone but he gets the hang of it very quickly #all the ghosts are very impressed with his willingness to throw down and he has to be reminded by a very stern ellie that it's TRUCE DAY #stop fighting!!#ah i really enjoyed this thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy it too!!#as always it came out a lot longer than i intended - i don't know why i even bothered with the whole 'five sentences'#it was obvious i wasn't going to stick to it smh #anyway i hope you liked it!!#(also but sorry i prefer to call her ellie sorry i know i'm in the minority here haha)#my writing #(shit how is it four in the morning eep)#cab writes

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mothwingwritings · 9 months

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Ma'am can we please have some general sfw/nsfw Jun Guevara hcs we're starving

On my knees begging he's such a menace to society and your writing's so good

Call me meals on wheels how I be feeding the masses. (⌐⎚u⎚)

Heh heh heh, I have been meaning to try and write more Jun goodness. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Thank you for providing the opportunity and thank you for your kind words!!!

I hope I did our beautiful boy Jun some justice with this one! NSFW at the end, so 18+ only please!

This man is one of the world’s biggest show offs, ESPECIALLY in your presence. The moment he hears your voice or spots you across the room, he starts posturing. Gloating about his various achievements, flexing and showing off his body whenever you pass by, dropping names of famous people he knows or exotic places he’s been, anything to try and get a rise out of you or to get you fawning. The man is not shy about singing his praises in a multitude of ways to paint himself as the ideal man for you.

If he has to spend any time away from you for any reason, all of his free time is going to go towards contacting you. Texts, phone calls, video chats-there is nothing that boosts his spirits like hearing your voice and seeing your face. Even just a simple text from you saying ‘good morning’ is enough to send him over the moon. Expect a rambling paragraph response back to any message you may send, littered with romantic prose while simultaneously begging you to send him pics (either lewd or just a normal selfie, doesn’t matter to him as long as he gets to see your pretty face/body).

He’s got a plethora of nicknames for you, ranging from sweet and loving to downright obscene. He loves seeing you blush and squirm, so he’s more apt to use the raunchy ones in public.

Despite his big ego and penchant for inappropriate flirting, he is a huge romantic. You are his one and only, his soul mate, and the thought of spending the rest of his life with you by his side never fails to fill him with butterflies. Nothing fills him with joy quite like waking up with you each morning and falling asleep with you each night. His most peaceful moments are when you are tucked in by his side, sleeping soundly under his protection.

He’s a rather jealous person, so he always gets grumpy when you aren’t giving him your full attention. If you so much as glance at your phone while on a date he gets moody, and isn’t above taking any electronic devices you may have away from you and stashing them out of your reach until you have to part ways with him. If it’s another physical person you are giving your attention too, he will become insufferably rude/standoffish to them until they either get the picture and leave on their own, or you are so mortified by the encounter you leave yourself, dragging Jun with you.

Family is very important to him, and he is extremely eager to bring you into his family’s fold. It didn’t take long in your relationship for you to become acquainted with both his close and extended family, and though you were nervous as hell to meet them all so soon, they accepted you with open arms and put you at ease upon your initial meeting. They were quick to usher you into their home, provide you with a warm meal, relay story after embarrassing story of Jun in his youth. If you are someone who doesn’t have a family/has a bad relationship with your family, all that changes now as you have been fully adopted into the Guevera home, his family quickly becoming your own. Otherwise he’s just as eager and adamant to meet your family, and will invite them to every Guevera family gathering in the future. Just prepare yourself for the onslaught of ‘when can we expect a grandchild?’ questions to roll in, and that all of them will be responded with ‘We’ve been hard at work, so as soon as possible’ or something similarly suggestive by Jun.

He has a tendency to be SUPER pouty. If you get into a disagreement or spat, even with how much he loves you, he wants to be the one who comes out on top. If you prove him wrong in an argument, any sense of victory you may feel is going to be overshadowed by how damn whiny he is going to be over the next several hours. It can get so annoying that sometimes you give in and apologize, even though you did nothing wrong, just to get him to shut up. Regardless of if you concede to him or not, he is super clingy during the whole ordeal, wanting you to shower him in affection and attention as a means to ‘apologize to him for being mean to him.’ (He is an incorrigible brat. ^^;)

Sometimes Jun will just stop and stare at you for elongated amounts of time. At first it unnerved you a bit, unsure of what caused him to halt what he was doing and just… Look at you. When you finally worked up the courage and asked him why he would sometimes look at you so intensely, he simply explained that he often gets so caught up in your beauty that he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from you. From that day forward you can’t help but blush bright red when you catch him doing it, which in turn always makes him produce a devilish smirk.

Though he lives to make you a blushing, stuttering mess, you also have the power to fluster him as well. Whenever you earnestly express your love for him, or go out of your way to show him you care, he turns into a flushed, mushy mess. He catches himself pretty quickly, but you always savor the moments when he slips and loses his macho façade, finding ruffled Jun quite endearing and cute.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!!

As stated before, family is a top priority for him, and he is obsessed with the idea of making a huge family with you. This man has the biggest breeding kink, and any kind of love making he does never stops at one round. He needs to make sure he pumps you nice and full, eager to realize his dreams of a huge family ASAP. He practically salivates over the thought of how you will look stuffed with his children, thinking of how hot you’ll look round and full making him that much hornier and work that much harder to impregnate you.

He has an extremely hard time containing himself, and if you tease him in anyway (whether it be with sexy clothing, coy flirtations, or potentially just something you are doing unwittingly) he can and will take you right then and there. Who is he to deny himself the pleasure of you, when you so boldly flaunt your sex appeal before him? If you are in public he (usually) has the decency to pull you somewhere more private before he begins his assault, but he doesn’t do anything to try and muffle or hide what he is doing with you. In fact, he takes pleasure from knowing you may be caught or heard-people should be aware of how good he is at pleasuring his woman and be jealous of the fact that he can have you anytime he desires, and they never will. The ONLY time he shows any restraint is if children are present, but even then it doesn’t take long for him to shoo them away so that he can have his way with you without the fear of scarring any innocent minds.

Despite the thrill he may get over people potentially walking in on/hearing you two making love, he is EXTREMELY possessive and gets majorly pissed off if anyone other than him sees you in a compromising position, or ogles you for too long. He’s the kind of man that will make you wear an oversized tee and board shorts to the beach just to keep wandering eyes from lingering on you too long. Your body, wanton expressions, and your sultry moans-they are for him and him only. If someone else did manage to catch you two in the act he will hunt them down later and beat their ass, accident or not. The only exception would be if it was someone he trusted, but even then they are on VERY thin ice.

He likes to film his sexual encounters with you, and loves even more to make you watch them with him afterwards. Even if it embarrasses the hell out of you, he thinks it’s completely unfair that you don’t get to see how goddamn sexy you look when he’s plowing into you, and insists on sharing the experience. He happily narrates the whole thing to you as he holds you perched on his lap, rewinding his favorite moments to he can play them again and again for you. He’ll almost always touch you while the video plays, doing his best to coax the same noises and reactions from you as you are doing in the video. These viewings of course also lead to more sex, as there is no way in hell he isn’t hard as a rock once he’s done viewing it.

Jun is very perceptive of your mood and can always tell when you are in a self-conscious rut. He can’t stand when you demean yourself and gets agitated when you tear yourself apart over your appearance. Don’t you realize how fucking beautiful you are??? Don’t you see that you are literal perfection??? Well, if not, he’s just going to have to show you, isn’t he? He will take his time worshiping every inch of you, giving extra care to the parts of your body you are comfortable with. Every part of you is flawless, and if you have trouble seeing that on your own he has no qualms over helping you realize this. As long as it takes, he won’t stop lavishing you until you yield to him and realize just how incredible you are.

As much as he loves watching you when you are making love, he loves holding you during the experience even more. His favorite positions are the ones where you are a close, intertwined mess of limbs and carnal desire. He wants to feel you in your entirety, and there is no such thing as close enough as far as Jun is concerned. When you are pressed against him you can feel each other’s heartbeat, and it’s easier for him to whisper in your ear about how much he loves you, tell you how fucking unbelievably good you feel. He is absolutely obsessed with you in every way, and he’ll keep you as close as he can for as long as possible, savoring the unity he feels with you beside him. You are half of his soul, and he feels incomplete otherwise.

#Thank you for the ask <3 #baki x reader #baki the grappler x reader #baki the grapper reader insert #baki the grappler headcanons #baki reader insert #jun guevara x reader #jun guevara x y/n #jun guevara #baki x y/n #jun guevara headcanons #baki the grappler x y/n #baki the grappler #I am also kind of loling because maint in in my apt rn fixing my broken ac #and they have been like right next to me while i type this #do they know? could they have any clue I am writing baki smut rn?#this goes out to them loool #mothwingswritings #Love ya'll hope you enjoy!

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moonchild-in-blue · 1 month

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Random thought I had last night. Genuinely think they're both equally outlandish - which is just ridiculous in itself if you think about it.

#ngl i think him wearing a shirt might be the most shocking thing he could do #lifting weights? shoving his tongue on the homies' throats? absolutely normal 👍#a SHIRT?? a piece of garment covering his chest and tummy???? actual normal clothing???? no. absolutely not #but also. imagine he just says “hello” OMG i would flip #i'm not counting that small “thank you” on Wembley because those were exceptional circumstances #i mean a regular ritual were nothing bad happens. and he just decides to be verbal for once and go :::) hello 👋#dew yew loike that? fancy seein' you 'ere #i don't know why i'm giving him a cockney accent. i know he talks more southern and posh but that's just funny #IF he did talk with us. do you think he'd be all “i have throughly enjoyed this ritual. we shall gather once more in this land with haste”#or he'd go full “yo yeah that's chill dawg”#be all “would you look at iii that wanker. that's my mate right there”#lmao idk what i'm saying. if this has a million typos IGNORE IT cus i'm writing this before bed and queuing for the morning #sleep token

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itoshi-s · 1 year

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@mejxmemkodofoof requested: yandere!rin + "I want to keep you all to myself" // no lukewarm love v-day event !

cw: suggestive, dark content, yandere, implied noncon. mdni

rin has never put much thought into how intense he experiences things.

if anything, it only ever helped and brought him so much praise - enough to make it feel like he's about to choke on it. hardworking, passionate. he'll get far in life - in football, or anything else he puts his mind into. (bold of them to think he's ever going to quit. not happening, until he climbs his way to the very top - he's not a quitter, never has been.) he can and will achieve everything his heart desires. that's how he is - calculated and controlled, focused and rapt. yet underneath, his heart thumps and blood boils, every nerve sparks as passion runs rampage in every cell and flickers behind turquoise irises, that perhaps look all too crazed all too often.

rin never really paid attention to his instinctive yet driven nature - not unless it was on the field and devoured every single player in his path.

not until he's met you.

one look at your face - bright and inviting, eerily familiar and nostalgic, as if he's been longing to see you for his entire life and then some - and it's like something awakens, splinters deep inside and pulls at his heart until it swells against his ribcage.

it's only natural you end up in the passenger seat of his aston martin later that night, all smiles and gentle laughter. a saccharine melody that still sounds so, so sweet, despite the booze you've been sipping on the past few hours, concealed in bright, blue syrups.

rin feels it's ironic. perhaps, there might be something just equally bitter laced underneath the vibrant teal of his eyes, too.

something to knock you off your feet, creep up on you - hit it's high when you willingly, stupidly take, take, take even more. something so honeyed, sugary sweet - all until it makes you hurl.

if everything rin's ever felt was intense, then your presence must be an entire tidal wave. it steals his breath away, brings his hands to a tremble when he laces his fingers with your own, holding you down and urging the highest pitches from your swollen, glossed lips. it eats away at his insides, dismantles any illusion of control, and throws him off the edge - right into your warm embrace.

you want to take things slow - that much he grasps from the convo you share next morning, sipping on some brazilian blend that suddenly tastes sweeter than ever when shared with you. rin watches you, teal eyes observant, and if the way his gaze follows your every notion is anything to go by, the must not be tired at all; not even from how he's had you pressed into the sheets until the sun started bleeding through the blinds.

he can take things slow. he can, for you. rin understands - he really does - when your eyes widen a bit upon his casual comment on how he has practice later today and therefore cannot take you to dinner like he wishes he could. he understands when you sheepishly admit that you have recognized his face from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

he doesn't mind. if anything, he's grateful he's barely a blank page to you. and fine, maybe the suddenly timid behavior of yours makes something deep inside him corrode into something ugly and possessive - but again, rin pays no mind to it.

to you, he can be anything and everything you want him to be. not just the national team's captain, not the star striker, not a name plastered with all the possible titles one could dream of. for you, rin can be anything your heart desires - you just have to let him.

and it's a tough, bumpy road to make you love him as much as he loves you. a reality check of sorts, one that suddenly rips off any bandage rin has tried to slap on the sweltering passion, seeping out the jagged wounds his adoration for you inflicts. it's an endless cycle, but he can make it just fine.

rin can take it.

he can see some more of the gentle smiles when you bid him goodbye at your doorstep, hair still disheveled and eyes hazy with sleep that he knows you'll get right back to as soon as he walks out. you need your rest after all - you're going out later that night, for one of your friends birthday - dressed up like his eyes on you are not enough, as if you've got someone else to impress.

he can force himself to nod and even offer a rare, small smile when you insist that he doesn't need to come and pick you up. don't be silly, rin. i'll text you when i'm home if that makes you feel better? it won't - but he appreciates the effort and deludes himself that you honestly, truly want to ease his worries away, even the ones you're the very reason for.

he can push the sour ache that rips its way through his chest when you turn down his offer to take you out - again. he's not throwing you on deep waters, doesn't push or nag. and yet, your eyes refuse to meet his own - perhaps fearful he'll find the uncertainty simmering behind them - when he suggests you attend one of his teammate's party together. as casual as it gets, but still not enough to not scare you away. rin, don't get me wrong, it's just... you said we don't need to rush, and it's a lot. everyone will know.

it irks something, he has to give you that. for a second, it seems like you want to make him feel dumber than he is. of course everyone will know - that's the point. it annoys him that you keep acting as if you're delusional, not noticing the not-so-subtle signs. but it's okay.

it's you, so for now, it's okay.

it's okay, until it isn't. rin has it under control until you force it right out of his hands, smooth the creases in his knuckles out with saccharine words that bleed into the humid midnight air and bounce off the egyptian cotton sheets.

"you're not telling me enough," you whisper into his bare chest, and maybe if it wasn't for the sleep overcoming your senses, you would've heard - felt - the erratic beat of his poor, poor heart. "y' need to talk to me, rin."

and talk he does. it spills out, all of it - all the passion he's so well known for, that floods the field and soaks into the turf, leaving no spot unsoiled by this overwhelming dedication of his. but this time, it seeps into you - something far more fragile, perhaps naive for thinking that you can handle it - handle the entirety of him.

clammy hands find their place on either side of your face, cupping the soft plush of your cheeks with utter care - a distinction to the sharp, overwhelming desire ripping through the turquoise eyes you thought you knew.

"i want to keep you all to myself," rin confesses at last and feels his chest hollow at the way your body tenses up - almost jerks away from the sheer force behind his words. "and it scares me. i want you, and i love you. you just need to let me."

perhaps, he was delusional.

almost childishly, foolishly so, for thinking that it wouldn't scare you, too.

but he held onto it, tight until it broke skin and stung. as if you were a storm and the remnant of hope was his lifeline, something to cling to as he continues to wish the greed eventually dies down. but it never does, instead feeds from the confusion and sheer panic that arises when days pass by and you grace him with less attention than he's used to - that you've gotten him hooked on.

it's unfair. it's scary and intimidating and unlike anything he's ever felt before - and he's felt a lot.

and when rin feels something, it hits him full force and knocks the airout of his lungs. when he loves, it's until you're choking on it, inhaling his devotion with every desperate breath - you might not know it yet. maybe he doesn't, either - but his instincts has never failed him yet. right now, they're louder as ever and tint his vision red - the color of passion, the very thing that clings to him every step of the way, and makes him who he is.

rin feels a lot, but he's learnt to live with it. wild and impulsive, yet collected and steady - two sides of one coin that he knows how to balance just fine, but somehow, when your face comes to mind, he cannot bring himself to do it.

he can keep it together for a little longer, and maybe smile a bit while he's at it, too. you're just a smidge too reckless, forget about the lost pair of keys far too quick than he'd like you to. they were never lost in the first place, instead safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket - a fucked up souvenir of sorts, maybe - but that you're unaware of. and yet, you still don't pay it much mind anymore. who would even want to break in here, rinnie? - then, a laugh, one that he doesn't reciprocate - c'mon, it's not a big deal.

he wishes you could keep the same attitude until a couple nights later, for when you stir awake in the dark, only to meet his frenzied eyes - but you don't, and perhaps he pushes his palm against your mouth a bit too rough, yeah, but it's what he has to do.

rin hopes you understand - just like he understood you.

as he licks the tears off your warm cheek and forces his other hand between your trembling thighs, for a split second he thinks that it's the least you owe him.

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #alSO thank u for ur kind words when requesting < 33 I’m glad u enjoy my silly lil writing abshsjssk #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #yandere blue lock #yandere bllk #rin my love

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shady-tavern · 9 months

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Deals and Revelry

Warnings ahead of both attempted and implied murder, along with one, early-on instance of non-consensual drug use. Please take care of yourselves.

***

In a city as big as this it was easy to get lost, easy to slip between the cracks. Easy to go unnoticed even if one walked like a severely drunk sailor fresh back on the shore.

You stumbled against the alley wall, woozy and half numb and your vision was just the faintest bit off, the world around you roiling as though the ground itself had become the sea, rising and falling in slow, cresting waves.

Your breath was fogging in front of your face and you knew it was too cold to be out and about without a cloak, but you hadn't really gotten to grab one. Or shoes. You couldn't really feel your feet anymore.

But you were getting close. Already you could see the lights and colorful banners and decorations on the other side of the alley. You could hear it too, the sound of the Revelry, the biggest entertainment street of this city. A cesspool of backroom deals and unfettered delight.

Music and laughter mixed with the breathy moans of a couple that stumbled into the alley, the women pushing each other against the brick wall, one hoisting the other into her arms. You saw the glint of metal on one of them, the armor of the city guard and the cloak that fell down to her knees, cloth a dark forest green.

Neither paid you any mind when you shuffled down the alley, using the wall as your anchor. At this point it was the only thing properly keeping you up and walking in a straight line. You must look drunk, even if you were anything but.

You barely felt the cold with the numbness and as you stumbled out of the alley, it felt like you were hit by a wall of light and sound and movement. Lanterns were strung all across the street, reaching from house to house and the glass painted or stained, casting a multitude of colors across everything.

People danced in big groups or on tables, more getting pulled into alleys by one or more people, big grins on their faces. Dancers and musicians performed on the stage by the crossroads that led to the Revelry, while other stages were dotted down the street, showing off other performers.

Sword jugglers, puppeteers, actors and jesters all put on the show of the night, accompanied by music. Fortune tellers weaved through the crowd, peddlers with carts stood on corners and servers with strong arms brought round after round of drinks and food from taverns. Others lured the drunk or amorously interested towards many of the inns, slipping clever hands into unguarded coat pockets.

You had to take a moment to get used to everything and orientate yourself, to look beyond the street wide revelry towards the main house. Bigger than all the others, a four story building, freshly painted pale green walls surrounded by black wood.

Through the lit windows you saw more partying, more dancing and someone swinging through the air gracefully.

That was your destination.

You pushed off of the corner you had stumbled against and walked onward, forcing one unsteady step in front of the other. People barely noticed when you staggered past them, some even clapping you on the back and pointing towards inns before they continued on their way.

You passed tables laden with food and drink, tables where people played games, cards and dice and something that needed a knife and quick reflexes. The air smelled heavily of ale and perfume and sweat.

Coats and skirts billowed, hands clapping and boots meeting cobblestone like muted drums when you passed by a group of dancers.

It felt like it took forever to make your way to the main house, the Revelry that this street, this gathering was named after. A big sign was mounted over the large entrance door, made of dark green wood and gold letters that looked freshly polished, shining in the light.

You shouldered inside, heat and smells greeting you, followed by loud cheers. So loud and from so many throats they seemed to make the air itself rumble.

Past the shifting bodies you got glimpses of a stage that went up to the second floor, of people swinging through the air, colorful figures catching others.

The crowd cheered loudly once again, tankards getting raised or slammed onto tables in time with the jig the musicians played. Coin clattered and servers maneuvered past patrons like they were made of water, never slowing down, perfect smiles pasted on their faces.

It took you a long minute to spot him, the owner of this place, the founder of the Revelry, Quin. There were many whispers about this man who owned the night and even had the city guard unable to stop his dealings.

Face painted white with black tracks down his cheeks like tears, his lips were stained a bloody red and his grin was just a little too sharp. His canines just a tad too long. For all that he leaned back in his seat, languid and relaxed, he gave off an air of effortless power and dangerous grace.

He was dressed in expensive finery, diamond studded jewelry and silken, embroidered clothes that only the highest ranking noble houses would have been able to afford. Everything was modeled to resemble a court jester, a clear and unashamed mockery of those in power.

There were rumors about him, things you had heard here and there, whispers shared by friends and overheard from chatting guards who wishing to unsettle the new recruit. People said he had stopped being a mortal man before ever coming to this city, that he commanded the shadows and drank blood like wine.

That he had made a pact with something that should have been left damn well alone. Something older and more dangerous than anything else.

As you tried to make your way towards him, stumbling into strangers who shoved you onward with either laughs or glares, you saw that he was speaking with a nervous looking man.

The man was tall and broad, shoulders tense and posture wary as he gripped his tankard, speaking to Quin about something. You couldn't hear what was being said, but Quin threw his head back and laughed and the burly man visibly grit his teeth, leaning back slightly as though worried.

Quin grinned at him, sharp teeth and dangerous eyes and waved a hand in a lazy gesture. A whip-thin woman melted out of the shadows, dressed in all black and with a blank, white mask covering her face.

She came to stand at Quin's side and offered him a rolled up piece of parchment. Quin took it and held it out towards the burly man, still grinning.

The man took it after a long second of hesitation and the woman held out a quill next. There was no ink, but the man seemed to be able to sign anyway and you got a glimpse of bloody ink flowing from the dry quill.

His face was grim when he handed the scroll back and the woman stepped forward when Quin accepted it, waiting and arms loose at her sides.

The man got up and she followed him and they disappeared into the crowd. When Quin got to his feet, you made yourself move faster. He couldn't slip away. Not when you were so damn close.

You tripped over someone's foot, the person giving you an annoyed shove, but it propelled you forward the last bit. Undignified, yes, but Quin caught you before you could fall to your face.

"Now there, usually I have to put in some work to make people swoon like this," he said with a mocking undertone, pulling you upright with seemingly no effort at all. Before he could let go, you gripped his arms, making him raise his brows.

"Here for a deal," you managed to slur out and for just a moment it looked like he was going to send you away anyway, before he paused and leaned in.

"You are not drunk," he said, a warm finger curling under your chin to tip it up, making your gaze meet his dark eyes. "Tell me, did you intend to ingest a drug?"

Your grip on his arms tightened and a smile curled across his face that managed to be far more dangerous than the one the burly man had gotten. The sort of smile that made it easy to imagine blood being spilled and a last breath being exhaled.

"Now, I don't like that in my establishment at all," he downright purred, moving in a step, head bending down towards you a bit. He was propping you up with his body more than anything else with how close he was and you were glad he hadn't shaken you off. "Why don't you point me to the one who did that, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. It was getting harder to think and you could feel his warmth through the numbness that gripped your limbs. You had no idea how much longer you could fight this off, especially now that you had finally found him and you didn't have to force yourself to keep moving.

You were just so relieved you thoughtlessly leaned into his hold. The only reason you caught the brief flash of surprise in his eyes was because you were so close to him.

"I need a deal," you managed to say, unable to raise your voice much, but with him right there, breath lightly brushing your nose and cheek, he heard you well enough. "Please."

"Why don't you tell me what happened first, hm?" he asked, curled finger still under your chin. His brows furrowed slightly. "You are quite cold, were you outside until recently?" His dangerous grin returned. "I can find out who did this, even if it was down the street, don't you worry."

"My fiancé," you said and the smile fell away as his brows rose. "His mother is going to kill my parents and then me. They will do it after the wedding tomorrow. Please."

"Hm." He seemed curious at least. "Why not go to the city guard? I know I'm never the first resort, only the desperate and degenerate come here." He leaned a little closer still, your noses almost touching, revealing a hint of his sharp teeth as he smiled. "You do know what kind of deals I offer, don't you, sweetheart?"

"They're too rich," you made yourself say. Your tongue felt heavier than before and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. "They have deals with the captain of the guard."

Quin suddenly sounded delighted. "Is that so? How delightful, I knew Albert was going to slip up one day. Thank you for that one, darling. But why not grab your parents and go away instead of coming here?"

"They arranged the wedding." And you hadn't even minded at first. The wealthy merchant's son had been pleasant enough after all, polite and maybe a bit reserved but not unfriendly.

Neither of you would have married for love, but during the conversations you had shared with the young, admittedly pretty man, it had become clear the two of you could have come to a good agreement.

Not all marriages were unions of hearts after all and there were plenty of ways to make it work. Plenty of ways to treat this like any old business agreement that both sides could benefit from. You had even thought the two of you could become good friends in given time.

Until you had overheard his mother's plans by accident tonight and had gotten discovered when you had tried to sneak away from her study. Your fiancé had done nothing when your future mother in law had gotten her personal guard to grab you before you could flee.

Your future mother in law had put some clear liquid into a cup of water while the guard had wrestled you towards her, muttering that you had to keep quiet until the wedding. That your parents wouldn't care about the state you were in so long as you signed the wedding contract.

She wasn't even wrong. Your parents would never again get the sort of deal the merchant had made with them. Your parents' business would join together with hers and it would make everyone all the richer. But if everyone died after the wedding, then your future mother in law would get to own your family business through her son.

Your parents wanted wealth too much themselves and unless you had managed to prove that your fiancé mistreated you, which he never did, they wouldn't stop the wedding for anything. Neither would they believe you if you showed up with wild sounding accusations such as planned murder out of nowhere.

Your future mother in law had proceeded to shove the concoction down your throat once she had it in the cup – or part of it at least.

It had been nothing but pure luck that you had managed to take hold of the guard's dagger at their hip and draw it. It had been a mad scramble where you had lashed out in a blind panic, the guard falling back with a howl and hands pressed over their bleeding face.

You had stabbed your future mother in law right in the thigh and had run, managing to toss a vase at your fiancé's head. Then you had kept running straight here. The only place you could think of to get help. The only place you trusted would help you, even if you'd have to give up something in the process.

You just wanted to live.

"I see." Quin tipped your chin up again, your head having slumped down a bit. You met his gaze and there was a red, fiery glow lurking in his dark eyes as though embers had come to life. "Want to me to get rid of your parents too?"

"No." They hadn't been...great, recently, but you wanted to deal with them yourself. "I don't want to die."

"I suppose you wouldn't," Quin murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear him. "Alright then, let's get you situated."

He moved his arm to hold you around the shoulders and bending down to pick you up under your knees. His words registered and you sagged with relief at once, pressing your head against his shoulder.

You felt him pause for just a moment and you felt the shift of muscle along his neck as he looked down at you.

"Aren't you a strange one," you heard him murmur. He was quiet for a second, then chuckled, low and dark. "Just alone to spite you I will do exactly that."

It didn't sound like he was speaking to you and he turned around, walking away from the press of bodies. Even half passed out you noticed it when the air shifted and five people stepped straight out of the shadows.

They were all masked, blank or painted, their clothes either black or colorful. You moved your head enough to peer past Quin's shoulder and you saw the glint on metal on them, blades and daggers, armor hidden under cloaks and silk shawls.

They looked nothing like the guards or mercenaries, but each and every one of them felt threatening enough that you half expected to cut yourself on their presences alone.

But most dangerous of them all was Quin. He felt like walking death as he held you, something so dangerous it would have stolen your breath away under any other circumstance. Instead, it made you relax further, one hand rising to lightly grip his sinfully soft silk doublet.

Quin hummed softly and this time, the words were directed at you as he said, "You are very strange indeed."

"Boss?" you heard one of the masked ones ask and when Quinn made a low noise, they stepped past to open a door at the back of the large tavern room. "What's your order?"

"I think we're going to have fun tonight," Quin said, voice light, but if words were capable of dripping blood, his would have, staining his tongue and sliding down his chin, thick and copper-sweet.

Quin carried you down a hallway and another door was opened within a few moments. The sound of the revelry was muffled and almost far away now as he stepped into a room and a couple of steps later you were gently set down on a couch that was softer than your own bed.

"You're not even wearing shoes," Quin mused and paused when you found yourself holding onto his sleeve when he stepped back. "Easy now, sweetheart, we'll take care of that little mess, won't we?"

"Thank you," you managed to slur out and he hummed again, waiting with unexpected patience for you to let go. When you did, he spread something warm and heavy over you. A blanket. "Sleep now. Believe it or not, but you will be safe here."

"I know." And you did believe him. Somehow, despite everything you had been taught and all the rumors you had heard, Quin felt safe. Safe enough that the fear that had driven you to his Revelry finally released it's bruising grip on you altogether.

Warm knuckles brushed your cheek. "You actually do believe it," Quin murmured. "That's a first, I have to admit."

"Deal?" you made yourself ask, because everyone knew that Quin always made deals. He never did anything for free.

Quin was silent for a long moment. Long enough that you thought he wouldn't answer, until he said, "You already gave me something no one else has. Not in a very long time at least. Let that be my payment. Rest, sweetheart. Your worries will be dead when you wake."

You heard rustling as he shifted and turned around to walk away.

"My friends," Quin said, voice strong and confident and there was a deep rumble to his words, something just a little too unnatural. No human throat should be able to make that sound.

The last words you heard before you faded into unconsciousness were said with a grin that dripped with malevolent violent, "Tonight we hunt."

*.*.*

You woke up with your head pounding and your mouth tasting the way old, wet socks smelled. Your body ached all over and when you tried to shift, you ended up groaning and burrowing more into the pillow. A pillow that smelled nothing like yours.

"Good morning," an amused voice said and you blearily forced your eyes open and looked up.

There he was, Quin, the founder of the Revelry. Your memories of last were a little foggy, but mostly you recalled his warmth and how safe you had felt. You still felt safe and warm now, bundled beneath a thick, soft blanket.

"Still not afraid, I see," he mused and leaned back a bit. He wore different clothes to last night, something a bit more muted, but the face paint was still there. "I have to thank you, we had quite a bit of fun tracing back your steps and getting to hunt."

His head tipped and his smile widened into that dangerous grin, showing his teeth. His lips were painted a blood red so vivid you wouldn't have been surprised if he had used actual, fresh blood. "Want a trophy?"

"No, thank you." You winced at how croaky your voice sounded and you forced yourself to sit up, limbs aching. You blinked when an elegant hand offered you a cup of water.

You took it and for just a split second you remembered the way your future mother in law had forced spiked water down your throat, then you shook off the memory. Quin of all people had no need to drug your drink, especially when he had had you drugged and at his mercy just hours prior.

"What do I owe you?" you asked after emptying the cup.

Quin raised a brow and sat down on the other end of the couch, thigh nearly brushing your toes. He leaned back, throwing one arm over the backrest of the couch as he regarded you with dark, curious eyes. "You're not going to ask if we took care of the problem?"

"You always do," you answered. "At least, that's what I heard."

"A business man such as myself takes great pride in a good reputation," Quin mused. "You are correct, they are very much dead. I would not recommend visiting that house anytime soon if it can be avoided."

"Thank you." The relief was still as potent as last night, thought not quite as soul-deep, for the fear wasn't there anymore. "What do I owe you?"

Quin waved you off with a dismissive flap of his hand. "You already paid, don't you worry your pretty little head." Before you could do so much as open your mouth to protest, he got to his feet again. "And now I will be dreadfully rude by tossing you out on your ear. I need my office back, sweetheart."

Blinking, you realized that you were, indeed, in an office. Lavishly decorated, with a rug as black as coal and, very, very faintly visible stains along the hardwood that you were willing to identify as dried blood.

"Of course, I'm sorry for being a bother," you said hurriedly, freeing your legs from the blanket, but the moment you tried to get up, your feet bumped into shoes. Looking down in surprise, you saw simple shoes in your size, a little scuffed but otherwise well maintained.

"I'll pay you for these," you offered and Quin rolled his eyes as you put them on.

"Just bring them back later. Now, please go." He ushered you up and pushed you out the door with a polite smile, gesturing down the hallway to the door that led into the tavern.

Instead of closing the door, however, he leaned against the doorframe and a bare moment later the door to the tavern swung open and the captain of the guard marched inside.

Before you knew it, you had shied back to Quin's side, as Albert glowered at you so viciously it wouldn't have surprised you if his glare had seared your skin like acid.

"No need to be impolite, Captain," Quin said with a smile sharp enough to peel away layers of skin. Albert flinched, just a little and the way he averted his gaze to his feet was all the more noticeable for it. "We're just going to have a friendly chat."

Quin pressed one warm palm against the small of your back. "Go on," he murmured, leaning closer to you, his warm breath brushing the shell of your ear. "He won't do anything." He raised his voice without moving back, gaze pinning Albert in place the way a scientist would pin down a helpless butterfly. "Won't he?"

Albert said nothing, but he stopped walking and moved over to the side, freeing up as much of the hallway as he could. Quin gave you a small push and you walked on, shuffling past the captain of the guard, feeling like a scurrying mouse.

You glanced back just once when you reached the door. Quin regarded Albert with feigned, gentle politeness as he walked past him into his office, the door closing behind the two of them.

Barely anyone was in the tavern at this hour when you stepped into the large room. Some hungover people sat at the bar, stirring oatmeal or nibbling on dry bread, looking either a bit green or half asleep.

The place was cleaner than it would have been elsewhere after a night of wild partying. No smashed glass was anywhere, not even spilled, sticky residue from drinks. Everything from the bartop to the tables and the floor looked freshly wiped down.

The air was still cool, but not as cold as last night when you left the tavern, the sky overcast.

The street outside the Revelry looked cleaned up as well, tables moved to the side, chairs stacked on top, to make for easy passing. A carriage rattled through and you heard someone puke in an alley as you passed by with quick steps.

It felt almost unreal as you made your way home. Your childhood home, not the big townhouse you had stayed in in preparation for your wedding. Your parents were at the kitchen table, greeting you with smiles when you entered.

"Looking forward to your big day?" your father asked as he buttered his breadroll. "Your dress is waiting upstairs for you."

They didn't know yet. You took a deep breath and it filled your lungs in a way it hadn't for weeks. You felt free, you realized. Free of your fiancé and a future you hadn't wanted, even if you would have accepted it with dignity and plans to make things work to the best of your abilities.

You took another deep breath, marveling at how much lighter you felt. "There won't be a wedding," you said and the words almost made you smile. When your parents looked up, surprised and worried, you added, "They got killed last night."

It was as though your parents saw you properly for the first time. Your nightclothes which were inappropriate to leave the house in, the shoes they had never seen you wear before and your somewhat bedraggled and worn appearance.

"What happened?" your father asked at the same time as your mother said, "What did you do?"

And now you did smile, just a little. It wasn't a happy expression and you probably looked more like you were baring your teeth. "I made sure I lived."

*.*.*

The Revelry was filled with overlapping conversations and the occasional laugh as the afternoon crowd ate their lunch, spread out around the tables.

Already preparations for tonight's party were in full swing, decorations being pinned in place and some performers were warming up, others checking the trapeze and ribbons to ensure nothing could go wrong.

Quin was at the bar, speaking with the barkeep who listened with an attentive frown. She gave an understanding nod and Quin tapped the bar with his palm, smiling in languid satisfaction.

He then noticed your approach, smiling easily at you as he turned to face you, leaning back against the bar, elbows braced on the bartop. He looked just as confident and in control as a king might on his throne.

"Sweetheart, what brings me the pleasure of your presence?" he asked as you approached. Today his outfit was as blood red as his lips, accented with black and his jewelry glinted gold, the rubies looking like drops of blood that hung from his ears and decorated his neck and hands.

"I'm going to return your shoes," you said and he waved you off when you presented them.

"I don't remember where I got them," he said with a shrug. "Leave them by the door if you like. Someone will pick them up at some point."

"Oh." You were about to step away again, Quin's attention already moving on, the conversation over in his mind, when you paused. You knew he said you had paid already, even if you had no idea how or when or with what, but it didn't feel like enough. "Let me take you out to dinner."

His dark gaze snapped back to you and from the corner of your eye you noticed the barkeeper openly gawk at you.

"Are you asking me out?" he sounded bemused and the faintest bit baffled. Realizing how your offer had sounded, you floundered for a moment, then shrugged awkwardly, waving around the shoes as you gestured.

"Just...I want to say thank you properly." When he was about to speak, you quickly added, "I know, you said I paid already, but I still want to do this. You did more than you had to that night."

The barkeep downright stared at you now, looking gobsmacked that you had interrupted her boss, her gaze bouncing between you two. Quin tipped his head, earrings glinting in the light that fell through the window. Then he smiled and shrugged.

"Alright, why not." He pushed off the bar, gesturing for you to go ahead. "Besides, what fool turns down a free meal? Lead the way, my dear."

You left the shoes beside the entrance beneath the coat rack, like he had suggested. A carriage was waiting outside, the one you had taken to this place and the driver was visibly uncomfortable when Quin smiled at him as he helped you inside with a slightly exaggerated bow.

"Fancy," Quin said with a toothy grin as he sat down across from you and you knocked against the roof, the carriage lurching into motion. "I can't say I've been asked out like this before."

"You did mention having trouble to make people fall for you," you found yourself saying and he blinked, then threw his head back as he laughed.

"Oh, I think I like you," he said, eyes looking even darker than before, his smile sharper. "This might be a fun outing after all. Say, where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," you answered and he leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees as though the carriage wasn't jostling the two of you around slightly.

"Can I guess?" he asked and at your shrug, he began to list places, starting with some waterholes you had heard the worst kind of stories about and ending with places so fancy and expensive only nobility would have been able to afford them.

You had to laugh at his latest suggestion and the carriage slowed to a stop a moment later. "Alright, we're here."

You got out first and offered your hand with the same exaggerated bow as he had and he grinned down, accepting it with over-the-top aplomb. Then he looked up, face brightening. "Oh my, you have chosen unexpectedly well."

You smiled and led the way inside. It wasn't easy to get a table in this place on short notice, but you had been lucky. A patron had cancelled their reservation just moments before you had shown up.

The server showed you to a table that had a good view of the stage and while he was polite, you noticed that he seemed unable to meet Quin's eyes.

All the patrons around you seemed uncomfortable, turning tense and quiet as the two of you sat down. You noticed some whispering and two people subtly getting up and hurrying away. If Quin noticed as well, he made no mention of it.

Just after ordering food and drink, the first musician showed up and the strangers around you stopped mattering. There was no need to pay attention to anything else when people sang and played their instruments so wonderfully. Quin seemed more than happy to watch the performances as well.

"I think I have to see if I can poach some of them," he mused quietly during an interlude. He was half done with his meal and you were certain it should have grown cold by now, but it was still steaming slightly.

He turned back to you, looking thoughtful. "Are you trying to butter me up for something? Are you in need of a deal now that your future prospect has been...scattered." He said the last word with the sort of smile that felt like it should drip blood down his chin.

"No." You knew just how damn lucky you were that he hadn't demanded a proper deal from you. That whatever you had given him that night, it somehow had been payment enough. You would not tangle with that again if you could help it. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Hm." He watched you a moment longer, then cut into his steak again. "I believe you."

The performances resumed shortly after and it was quite a pleasant meal. When at last it was over and Quin and you got up, the other patrons hung back, giving the two of you quite a berth.

Quin was in high spirits, talking easily about what he had liked and enjoyed, gesturing and there was a small spring in his step.

"I have to say, that has been the best meal I had in quite a while," he said, offering his arm as you approached the stairs. You took it readily and he was still as warm as you remembered.

"I'm glad," you said. "I quite enjoyed myself as well." It had been unexpectedly easy to spend time with Quin. He clearly didn't care about impressing others or bothered to worry about what anyone thought of him and it was rather refreshing.

"Well, if you find yourself in need for a dinner companion again, you know where to find me," he said as he stopped in front of the carriage that had returned in time to pick you up. He helped you inside but didn't follow when you waited for him. "There are some artists I have to speak with. See you around, love."

He stepped back and you knocked on the carriage roof without looking away from him. You found your gaze lingering on him until the carriage rounded the corner. He had stayed where he was as he watched you leave, people still giving him plenty of space, their gazes averted.

*.*.*

Somehow, as the days and weeks passed, you found yourself returning to the Revelry again and again. You didn't always see Quin and sometimes he was too busy to do more than greet you, but that was alright.

His staff had grown unexpectedly fond of you, greeting you with smiles and offering free drinks on the house. Aside from the artists, you got to know Quin's hunters, as most people called them, rather well.

The hunters were the ones that wore masks and never showed their faces. The ones that everyone seemed uncomfortable around, though they seemed to find them slightly less unsettling than Quin.

Quin, whenever he had time for you, was excellent company. He made you feel warm and welcome and it was so easy to relax and be yourself in his presence. He made you laugh and let you lean against him, made your dreary days brighter and was well read and well educated.

You had both found yourself debating philosophical questions for hours with him and you had danced in the warm rain as summer began, laughing as he hopped through puddles with you, his make-up never once running.

He had made it far, far too easy to fall in love with him.

With his sharp blood-smiles and his dark eyes and delighted grins at all the joys the world had to offer. With his danger and confident grace and the good treatment of his employees. With the way he leaned in, breath warm against the shell of your ear, as he pointed things out to you or shared secrets.

"How come the boss doesn't bother you?" the barkeeper asked you one afternoon as you waited for Quin to finish a deal and join you for another outing. "It even took me a while to be comfortable around him and he's been nothing but friendly to me from the start."

You knew what she meant, you had observed the effect Quin had on people for some time now. Quin was dangerous and you weren't fool or delusional enough to not know that. To not know that you could easily have that danger turned on you should you threaten him and his.

But it was hard to forget the way he had caught you instead of letting you fall, that he had immediately offered to take care of a perceived offense that few others would have even bothered to acknowledge. That he had covered you with a blanket and gotten you shoes and hadn't asked you to sign any of the scrolls he handed to virtually everyone else that approached him for deals.

So you just shrugged and the barkeep left it at that.

"Love, how good to see you, thank you for waiting," Quin's voice drew your attention and he approached you, easily throwing an arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. "Where to today? The usual place?"

You had visited the academy inn you had taken him to a couple of times since, but you shook your head. "I found a new place. Come on or we'll be late."

"Oh, we can't have that, can we?" he sounded delighted, steering you towards the door and lifting his free hand in a lazy goodbye wave to his employees. "Until later, you scoundrels, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he called out, getting laughter and some hoots in return.

Hanging out with Quin had, faster than you had expected, turned into one of your favorite things. He had an ease about him that was part of anything he did and his presence had the added benefit that no one ever bothered you if you went out with him.

It was easy to tell Quin everything and he was a great confidante. Never once had he shared your secrets with anyone else and he never judged you for anything either. He spoke less about himself, but every little thing he revealed you found yourself hoarding like a jealous dragon who managed to scrape together a few coins.

Today, to your surprise, he ended up sharing more than before. Maybe it was the play you had brought him to, one that turned him quieter and more thoughtful than anything else before.

"I know you know I'm not human, not anymore," he said quietly as he watched the lead act fall to his knees in front of a demon, hands raised in supplication. "But you never ask about it."

"In all honesty, I don't care about what you are," you answered just as quietly. "I like you the way you are."

For the first time since you got to know him, he seemed to have no idea what to say. He reached out, offering his hand and you took it readily enough. To your delighted surprise, he laced your fingers together.��

Then he brought your hand up to his lips and you found yourself unable to look away from him. From his dark eyes that began to glow ever so faintly like embers.

He brushed his lips over your knuckles. "I sold my soul to something far older than this world," he murmured, as though pressing his confession into your skin. "I never regretted it, I lead a life I very, very much enjoy after all."

He pressed a kiss against your knuckles, lips leaving behind red smears like blood, his gaze heavy. "But ever since I got to know you, I find myself glad for my younger self's foolish recklessness. I don't think I could have ever met you otherwise."

"We would have met," you found yourself answering, quiet but sure, certain in a way you felt in the marrow of your bones. "I would have found you."

You would have crossed paths with this man and you would have seen in him what you saw now. Someone who had shaken off the shackles of society, someone who was close to you in spirit. Someone who understood you in a way so few did. Someone who had grown so very, very dear to you.

"And I would have killed for you," Quin said, brushing one more confession against your knuckles before he let your combined hands sink down to the arm of his chair. "I hope you know that I would promise you what I promised this ancient thing years ago if I could."

You hadn't dared to hope, not when you had worried, just a little, that Quin didn't quite feel for you what you felt for him. But now your heart leaped high and soared and a happy grin appeared on your face. "I know now."

He smiled back at you and while you knew his smiles would never be soft and adoring the way you had seen other men smile at their lovers, you didn't want them to be. You liked his danger and his sharp teeth and the way he at times seemed two steps away from going unhinged.

Quin said nothing else for the rest of the performance, but neither did either of you let go of the other's hand. He held it all the way to the carriage, where he offered another of his playfully exaggerated bows while he held open the door.

You set a foot inside, only to lean over and brush a kiss against his cheek. "I had fun tonight."

"I think that's my line," he teased, looking up at you for once. "I'll take you out next time, how does that sound?"

"I look forward to it," you said and he let go of your hand, silver earrings reflecting the light as they swung softly when he closed the door.

He once again waited on the sidewalk as the carriage carried you away and you waved at him, watching him laugh and sketch another bow. The moment he was out of view, his words seeped back into your mind.

You mulled them over for days and slowly, bit by bit, you managed to tease more information out of Quin when you saw him. He never told you what sort of deal he made or with what being, but that was alright. You had access to a library after all and there was an old occultist that frequently visited the Revelry.

It was easy enough to intercept him one night and pull him aside while Quin was busy making deals. You got the man drunk enough to loosen his tongue and since he knew you and Quin were close, he seemed to have come to the assumption that you knew more than most.

You didn't, Quin had kept you firmly away from the sort of things he dealt with, but that assumption worked well in your favor.

Quin and you went on more outings together and despite his usual unafraid and near greedy claiming of the things he wanted, he hadn't done much more than share chaste kisses with you.

He was very content to take things at your pace and you found that incredibly charming, but you were ready to go further. So the next time you visited him, you leaned in and kissed him, deepening the kiss as he leaned against the bar, patrons and employees alike hooting and hollering as he returned the kiss eagerly.

"I think it's time we take this a little further," you whispered against his lips, knowing yours were stained blood red right now.

He was grinning, eyes glowing faintly when you separated. "Oh, love," he murmured in that low voice that seemed to rumble in the air itself. "You can have me as much as you like."

He kissed you breathless and took you dancing until you felt like your heart had soaked up enough joy and love to grow wings and take flight, the two of you never separating for long.

The next night you kissed him deeply once more and he led you through a night of delight, leaving you gasping and breathless and grinning as wildly as he did.

"Why didn't you ask for a normal deal when you met me?" you asked him that night when you were half asleep in bed with him, his hand tracing shapes across your back. "What was it that I gave you?"

He was quiet for long enough that you were almost fully asleep when he answered, quiet like it was an important secret, "You gave me trust in a way no one had in far, far too long."

You fell asleep with a smile while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You loved him more than ever and when your parents brought up the topic of marriage again a couple of days later, you firmly told them you had chosen your own partner this time. You were done with catering to their desires and wishes. Never again would you let them control your future like they once had.

Especially when, instead, you could spend it with Quin and the Revelry.

It took you another couple of weeks, summer fading to cold autumn, until you at last had everything ready.

A day later, on his birthday, you tumbled Quin into bed while laughter drifted up from the tavern a floor below. Laughter was caught between your lips as you kissed and he made you sing in the best of ways, curling around you afterwards, sated and delighted.

You were reasonably certain that Quin needed next to no sleep, considering that a hunter had once mentioned that he only went to his rooms to read or when you were with him. He did sleep around you, or at least something like it. He always was a little too still when he did it, his breathing just a bit too deep to be normal, his heartbeat that unsettling extra second too slow.

You waited until he grew still and deep and slow and then you snuck out of bed, slow and careful. He didn't wake, not when you pulled pouches from your pockets. Not when you drew in chalk on his floor, not when you set up candles and lit them and not when you approached him with the dagger, metal etched with symbols that made no sense to you, but you knew were correct.

He didn't even wake when you carefully pricked the tip of one finger, letting a single drip of blood fall onto the blade. That one drop swiftly filled all the carved in grooves and lines and now came the thing that had taken the longest to obtain.

It had taken you days to find people even willing to hear you out, never mind go on the sort of dangerous trip you needed to send them on.

But a group of slightly wild-eyed, hungry adventurers had taken you upon the offer and they had, after weeks, delivered. Bruised, blooded and broken but victorious, grins wilder than ever and their hunger sated. For now.

The heart looked unexpectedly small, barely bigger than half your palm, but it beat still and it was as black as tar. The last tether the ancient horror had to this world.

You placed it in the middle of the circle, Quin still deeply asleep on the bed. His mind was most likely at another place, maybe he was even with this ancient thing, listening to its demands for souls and years and emotions and whatever else he fed it. It was powerful, no doubt, but you also knew Quin was the only reason it got to eat at all.

He was the only one who had a contract with it, the first and only one in centuries who had stumbled across a half sunken tomb and had figured out enough of the symbols to cobble together a ritual. Even his hunters were only an extension of his deal with the old horror he had found.

He hadn't quite understood what he had done, what he had summoned and bound himself to, but he had whole-heartedly accepted it all the same. Unafraid as he was in everything.

There was no undoing what had been done to him, the occultist had been firm about that when you had asked. Quin had given up his humanity and reversing that would be his end. His soul and body and mind had changed too much already. Furthermore, he liked himself like this.

He didn't want to change, even if he wished he could be free of the contract.

His body bowed like a man possessed when you pierced the heart and a noiseless shriek echoed through the room. It wasn't sound but instead pressure, making the very air itself vibrate, floorboards groaned and walls cracked, windows rattled and shattered and for a second you thought you yourself would break too.

Your bones seemed to try to shrink smaller, your mind feeling like it got squeezed from all sides as fury slammed into you, your ears popping painfully. Fury and fear.

It was that last emotion, that gave you the strength to grip the dagger with both hands and twist it, rending the small, black heart in two.

It was like an outward explosion, as though something as big as a continent exhaled it's least breath forcefully, desperate as it lost its grip on life. The walls and floor cracked to the point where you half expected them to cave and crumble and all at once the candles were extinguished.

In the light from the full moon outside you watched the black heart turn to dust and then it got blown away by a faint breeze until nothing was left.

"What?" Quin's gasping inhale drew your attention and you realized you were shaking and sweating and feeling unnaturally cold.

He sat up in bed, eyes glowing like an entire fireplace full of embers. "Love," he said and his voice rumbled through the air, heavy with new power. "What did you do?"

"Happy birthday," you answered, slightly breathless. "Do you like my present?"

He scrambled out of bed, suddenly frantic and graceless in a way he never, ever was. His knees hit the ground and his hands cupped your face, glowing eyes roving over your face like he had never seen it before. Had never seen you like this before.

"You killed an old god for me," he whispered, his voice on the verge something reverent and awed as he gave off an air of power so much deeper and larger that his previous presence would have looked pitiful in comparison.

"You wanted to be free, right?" you asked quietly and when you smiled at him, you knew you still had his blood-red lipstick on your lips from kissing him previously. You knew it was dark enough with only moonlight in the room that it must've looked like real blood.

He laughed and it was half relief and half astonishment and then he was kissing you, fiercer and deeper than ever before. It felt like he was trying to pour the power you had gifted him into you, filling your veins the way you had filled his.

"I devote myself to you," he said breathlessly between kisses, each one as fierce and consuming and gifting as the last. "My soul, in light and darkness, shall be yours until my dying day."

You could only kiss back just as fiercely, gripping his hips and pulling him closer as he climbed into your lap, leaning over you and kissing you and kissing you until you felt drunk on it and his power.

"Move in with me," he whispered against your lips. "You're already a part of this place. The Revelry loves you. I love you."

"Let's adopt a cat," you whispered back and he laughed, sounding half delirious and delighted enough that it wouldn't have surprised you to hear him shout from the rooftops in a moment.

"A beautiful idea," he said, eyes glowing and blood-red grin just as dangerous as ever, his teeth looking even sharper than before. "I love you."

You couldn't help but grin back. "Neat."

He laughed, wild and free, wrapping his arms tightly around you and swaying back and forth a bit, his weight heavy and grounding and warm in your lap until the last of the unnatural chill was chased from your bones.

Then he held and kissed you until he got his newly gained power under control and someone knocked on the door.

It were his hunters and for the first time they had taken off their masks, glowing eyes staring at the two of you with barely contained hope and wonder.

"We're free," Quin said, still in your lap and his grin was delightfully wild and on the edge of unhinged. "You are free to stay or go and never again will you be trapped in a contract."

It didn't surprise you when they stayed, fists pressed over hearts and fealty offered but not demanded. Given, not owned.

"Marevlous," Quin said when they left again, pressing kisses against your face, leaving smears of blood red behind. "Precious, crafty, devious, mine."

You gripped his hips. "And you're mine."

"Until the end of time," he promised, hands still cradling your face and he pressed your foreheads together. His voice grew quieter, intense, a promise he would have never given that old god, no matter its demands, "For this life and all that follow, until this world crumbles to dust and all the stars have died."

A promise better than any wedding vow you could have asked for. "In each one I will find you," you answered his promise, feeling him press even closer, heat and weight and danger and power. "My soul will always recognize yours."

"Thank you," he whispered, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Thank you, for this gift and for trusting me when you met me. For never shying from me when others didn't even dare to look me in the eye. For giving me everything I ever wanted. For loving me."

You smiled and hugged him back tightly. He already knew that he had given you everything you could have asked for the night he killed for you. All without asking for anything. Without ever taking anything from you.

He had set you free from more than a lethal marriage contract. And now that he had shucked his shackles to an old god, now that he was free and still very much not human, you felt like everything was complete.

You couldn't wait to get that cat and to wake up to love and blood-red smiles for the rest of your life.

#my writing #short story #a long ass short story #fantasy #deals #jester #yo this became so damn long #i had so much fun writing this #I hope someone enjoys reading it!#implied murder in this one #heavily implied #also #this is a bit darker than my usual stuff #hope you guys like it!#have I figured out how tagging works by now?#absolutely not #I hope I didn't overlook too many mistakes!#thanks fyrenwater for giving me that one pass to write whatever I want #romance

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year

Text

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ready to Comply

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Villain!Reader

Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, light angst and violence.

Words: 4,4OO

He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

…and you used to be one of them.

Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the space. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared. He had done so much research on you. He knew everything.

His mind is running a million miles an hour to try and process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.

It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.

It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.

Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.

Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?

You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.

A challenge indeed…

“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”

That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.

“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”

“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.

Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.

“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.

“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”

“To yourself?” You nearly snort.

Bucky grits his teeth harder. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”

And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.

You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.

Sure, you can be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.

Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.

Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–

Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.

Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.

The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.

His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.

Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.

“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.

Always these games…

Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.

“Got something to run from?” you purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.

“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.

“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”

You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.

And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–

Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant war within themself - war between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knows that – has been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.

He’s good.

And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.

So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.

Grey-blue.

You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.

“I’m not.”

“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.

“You won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“You won’t,” you breathe.

A pause.

“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.

You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.

You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out makes you dizzier, and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.

You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee back. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushes his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.

Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now. Your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.

This man…

“Who would have known,” he murmurs against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”

You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–

“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Do it again.”

“Bucky.”

“Again.”

“Bucky.”

His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours. “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”

He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.

“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like all the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.

Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Then he smiles.

“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”

This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there in the end.

You feel it shift– your alliance.

“Shut up,” you snap and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.

He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees tremble and you would melt to the floor if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.

The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.

And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You can make him do anything.

He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise.

Maybe one thing. When you say his name.

“Bucky.”

Fuck.

Digging his fingers into your body so hard he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises –Good, you’re his now– he lets out an animalistic growl and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.

“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?

Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.

“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.

You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.

“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”

And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable.

It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–

“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”

You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”

Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.

Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.

He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.

Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.

Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.

“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.

But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?

He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.

“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.

Oh, he likes it when you call him that.

You do not need those ten Russian words. At all.

He smirks, “Ya gotov otvechat.”

#hbd to me :-)#is2g this has been in my drafts for so long and i couldn't seem to finish it #but oh my god i finally did it #im sorry you guys had to wait for so long i tried my best #also this is my birthday present to you guys!!! i hope you enjoy it #thank the heavens for how h*rny i am bc DAMN it is baad #PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK???#its not my best work but i hope you enjoy it anyway #BYEEEEEE #bucky barnes #writing #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #oneshot #e to l

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

Note

Hi! I hope you've been doing alright!

I was wondering if you could possibly write something for Valeria comforting reader having a bit if a meltdown. Something along the lines of reader being overwhelmed by their job and just the emotions that come with the end of the year, and having Valeria just hug them, maybe do something sweet like surprising them with their favorite treat, etc. because she had been noticing the way reader had been a bit off. essentially some fluffy hurt/comfort <//3

I don't know if that's a bit much, but you're welcome to say no! Anyways, I just want to let you know that your writing is incredibly awesome and I hope that the new year treats you well! You put out a lot of great content but i really hope you're not overworking yourself either, make sure to take breaks and take care of yourself and yeah, ♡

-☆

Anon, unless you tell me to either write the most gruesome thing imaginable or straight up something that is not meant for minors, then I have no problem with any request! I tried to make it good, but I've always struggled with writing dialogue, and for that I am genuinely sorry! I hope it's still enjoyable enough, though! It's more of a fic again than anything else, at a good 3.000 words! I'm wishing you a good 2024 and that the new year may treat you more kindly than the current one has! Best of everything to you, anon! And best of everything to everyone else too, of course!

Valeria Comforting Reader

You had always been a strong person in Valeria’s eyes. You had to be in order to be with someone like her, after all. Caring for someone so vile in many people’s eyes, knowing fully well of her business, it was in spite of all of that you stayed with her. The way she could come home to you, giving it your all at work, giving her that kind smile of yours she was certain she didn’t quite deserve, it made even someone of her caliber a bit softer than usual. For as little as she cared about anyone else, wishing to have most people’s head on a stake at this point, if you gave her the command, she’d burn down every inch of this sorry planet just to see you smile again, just to watch the flames of life dance in your eyes. And from the ashes she’d raise something new, something better than what was right now. Valeria knew she could count on you, no matter what, but she hoped you did the same for her too.

Your eyes used to be full of vivacity, so lively whenever you got to see her, there was you trilling a song like a nightingale when you made her a cherry pie, from time to time she had to shut you up considering you never stopped talking whenever she came home. Bloody Valeria, who knows how many people she has killed? How many people would continue to suffer because of her selfishness? She had been called many things, a witch, a wench, a worthless wanton. But in those beautiful eyes of yours? The way you’d call her over, using sickeningly sweet nicknames in Spanish you picked up from somewhere. “Mi alma, mi tesoro, how is the most beautiful wife in this universe doing?” Granted, Valeria cringed when you suddenly started speaking Spanish to her of all people, but even so, she had to admit, you were so adorable, leaving her no choice but to respond in nothing but Spanish for the evening to compensate.

But even among the lovely banter the two of you often found yourselves in, it wasn’t enough to keep the light in your eyes from extinguishing. Your beautiful voice became rarer and rarer until you only spoke when spoken to. Whereas Valeria would once need to tell you to stop hugging her in public, these days she was happy if you as much as grabbed her hand while you were both seated on the couch. What happened to you? She wanted to know, she needed to know, but you wouldn’t budge. Whatever weighed on you took its toll on you, it wasn’t something Valeria could just fix with money, it seemed. A forced smile, empty eyes. Ever since you started that new job of yours a while ago, it seemed to never end for you.

Even as she sent one of her trusted people out to check on you, you were wary, knowing fully well about the dangers Las Almas posed to anyone living there, especially Valeria. You did not hesitate to tell her about that odd person coming to your workplace, that man could have been anyone, could have killed her. She was grateful, to have you be this open with her on a matter that concerned her, but in the same breath she cursed you for not taking better care of yourself. If she could, she would have come to your workplace to kill your boss, your superior, anyone giving you a hard time yourself. But alas, Los Vaqueros were on her heels again. And thus, she fled for another few weeks, leaving you alone in your unbearable misery. By no means was Valeria a traditionally affectionate person, but if she had to be more “normal” in that regard to see your happiness again, she could try.

The new year seemed nice around this year, with the first of January being on a Monday. The beginning of the year was also the beginning of a new week. Valeria could have stalled for time, waiting until it was midnight, but she decided to come home to you without intervention this time. That she decided until she found a small bakery, run by an elderly lady and her husband, that she had known for a while. Evening of the 30th, the shop was just about to close up when Valeria drove by, stopping right in front of it. The couple didn’t seem to mind her being here this late, giving her the usual wishes for a new year. May she be healthy, may she be happy. Lovely, if only such a thing would hold true for you instead. The wares seemed promising, obviously homemade. The bright, white cake with the strawberries on top seemed to catch her eyes. There weren’t many baked goods left, namely some cakes, some cookies and some rolls, but that tres leches looked delicious.

It didn’t take long for her to have bought the little treat. Enough for you, enough for her. Maybe such could cheer you up, if just a little bit.

The night was cold this time, with the clouds not covering a single bit of the sky. The moon was waning once again, leaving behind the world for its own purposes, leaving it in the dark where anyone and anything could be hiding. For all Valeria knew, someone could decide to try and pick a fight with her right now. Someone would die, but it wouldn’t be her. Never her, she had someone to come home to, after all. Whatever slug decided to rob her on a night like this, they would come to regret their mother’s birth. However, as she got closer to your little abode, she couldn’t help but worry. What if it wasn’t her to get hurt, but you instead? By no means would that be likely, hidden away like the treasure you were, for her eyes only, but it wasn’t impossible. Valeria pressed harder on the gas pedal.

Only when she saw the lights on this late did she finally calm down a bit. You were home, everything seemed in order. With the cake in one hand and her keys in the other, she unlocked the door, pushing it open. She had every reason to be mad at the incompetence she had to work with on the daily, but somehow, she had even more reason to be worried about you. Her worries were only reinforced when she heard quiet sobs coming from the living room. Normally, she’d burst right in, her revolver in hand. But this time? No weapon in the world could fight your demons, she could only watch as you tried your hardest to fight another day, to make it through alive and somewhat well.

Slowly, she opened the door this time as well, making just enough noise for you to take notice of her. Like a deer in headlights, you stared at her, choking back another sob. Clearly, you didn’t expect her to be home this early at all, but it didn’t matter. You seemed scared, ashamed even, as your mouth hung open, trying to find the right words to say. Regardless of what it was that would leave your mouth, Valeria wouldn’t get mad, not this time. Having put down the tres leches, she turned to you, approaching you slowly so as to not startle you. Your eyes were red and puffy, your voice hoarse as you finally spoke. You wiped away your tears, giving her a forced smile, like you had been for a while.

“Valeria, welcome back! How are you doing?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, trying your hardest to not make it as obvious that you had been crying. A futile attempt, but an attempt nevertheless. If she could have, Valeria would have wrung out your little heart, ridding you of your demons if just for this weekend, but alas. Sitting down next to you on the couch, she took one hand of yours in hers, the other arm slung around your shoulders.

“Cariño, what’s the matter? I’m not mad, I promise, I just wanna know.”

Your mouth formed an o, clearly trying to think of a bullshit excuse she wasn’t going to buy anyway. “Be honest with me!” Valeria’s voice was calm, even if she could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. Whatever was eating at you, gnawing at your mind and your heart, you were going to tell her, preferably tonight.

Holding onto her hand, you squeezed it, looking away for a moment. She had her nails done that pretty pink again, the color you always liked so much on her. But even so, it was apparent you didn’t know what to say. Rather sooner than later, you had to come clean to her eventually. You had joked about it, but one of these days Valeria might just interrogate you for your mental wellbeing, counterproductive as that might be. Tears welled up in your eyes again as you bit your lips, hoping to seem just a tad bit less pathetic than before. Valeria was so strong, you had always been a joke in comparison.

“You know, you’re actually really tough, Valeria. You’re always on the move, always evading the bad guys, always doing what needs to be done in order for the both of us to have a good life. But look at me: I can’t even work properly without my co-workers trampling all over me. Every day I have to endure things that no one wants to put up with, every day I can’t say no to them even if I tried. Sometimes I do wish I was more like you, really. It’s just… I haven’t accomplished anything. Nothing I do seems to matter. This year was awful, and I have little hope that the next one will be any better. As much as I love you, Valeria, and you know that I adore you, I hope you’ll find someone better next year. Someone who’s worthy of having you around, someone who won’t bitch and cry over every single little thing. I’m a weak and pathetic little loser who’s nothing like you. Can’t say no, and it’s slowly killing me. I want to just run away forever, never to be seen again, and become a cryptid of sorts. I fucking hate myself, I hate this miserable, shitty planet I was born on, and I hope next year is going to be my last! I don’t think I can make it through another one.”

For a second, even Valeria was quiet, not thinking it was going to be this bad. She knew you were unhappy, but she didn’t think you were hoping to die this soon. You and her had your entire lives ahead of you, preferably together. There was no way Valeria could let something like this just slide. This was something big and important, not something you should just sweep under the rug and never talk about.

Valeria removed her arm and hand from yours, only to grab your face, cradling it somewhat roughly, to make sure you would look at her. Despite never having been an emotional person, this was important. You were going to look at her, no matter how much you protested, wanting to look away, and you were going to listen too.

“Don’t you dare say something like this ever again, you hear me? You’re going to live alongside me, and you’re going to live well. If I have to kill all of your co-workers myself, I will. You’re the last person that should die on this rotten planet. I had to live this long without you in it, you’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it. But don’t you fucking dare ever think about dying again, alright? If your boss is a bastard, who gives a shit. Same for your co-workers. You need a job? A good one you’ll enjoy with nice people? Cariño, I can get you in just about anywhere. You wanna work at a bakery? At an elementary school? You wanna work an office job? Hell, if you want I’ll make sure you’ll get to do home office whenever you need it too, but you’re not going to leave me alone just like that. The next year is going to be good to you, and it won’t be a matter of if. It’ll be a matter of when, and at my command, a good year for you will start on Monday, and that’s final.”

Her voice was almost loud, she was clearly mad. Not at you, you could never do any wrong in her eyes, but at the people who made you feel this way about yourself, about everything regarding you. It scared you, you wanted to pull away, but her grasp on you grew stronger. She meant well, you knew that much, but never did you think you could make her this mad. You were gentle, you were kind, and that also showed in how Valeria would treat you. You weren’t some kind of replaceable lackey, Valeria would never find someone like you again.

Your eyes were wide in fear and Valeria’s expression softened up a bit. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you like that. But I need you to understand that you’re scaring me too when you say things like that. We’ll get through this together. You quit your job, we’re gonna find you a new one with good people that you can enjoy. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you next year, that I’m going to make sure myself. I’ll try to take off more days, try to get more time for you so we can be together. But please don’t do anything too rash, please don’t do anything dumb. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost you. Alright?”

Once again, you teared up, but this time you couldn’t look away either, Valeria was still holding you.

“Alright?”

“Alright, fine. Valeria, I’m so sorry.” Your voice was quiet, broken by your current circumstances. When was the last time someone cared about you like this? Valeria was the most dangerous woman in the country, and yet here she was, comforting a little no one like you who happened to meet her by happenstance. You didn’t bite back your sobs this time, letting it all out instead. It’s not like it was the first time she had ever seen you cry, but you wished it would be the last time. This was humiliating, even if your wife had found you in much worse situations. You closed your eyes, letting your tears fall freely.

“Please don’t apologize.” She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before giving you a long and tight hug. A token example of how she cared for you. Despite not being one for physical affection, even she couldn’t deny you a hug when you were downright miserable. Although she wasn’t usually very warm, something about tonight, maybe it was the feeling of being disposable, made you feel warmer than usual. Valeria was by no means a kind woman normally, but somehow, you got to see this side of her that was unknown to everyone else. You knew she was the one for you.

Maybe leaving her alone would have been such a cruel thing of you after all. The way she held you when she was drunk, the way she’d kiss you when she finally got home after months of not seeing you, the way she’d look at you when she thinks you aren’t looking, it was all reminiscent of a fantasy you dreamed about when you were younger. Maybe you really didn’t need a hero, the villainess worked just fine for you. She held you like you were the most worthwhile treasure in the world. A hero would never do that, a hero would likely die to attain some silly goal. Valeria was different from that, she would litter the world with the corpses of those who wronged you. It was a challenging sort of love, but it was love nevertheless. You wanted to show her the same kind of love. Maybe you weren’t ready to kill someone for her just yet, but if it ever came down to it, maybe you could try to live again. Perhaps not for yourself as you were right now, but for Valeria. She was worth more than a planet made of pure diamonds.

Eventually, your sobs turned to sniffles, your sniffles died down. Valeria never stopped holding you until you had finally calmed down. It felt surprisingly good, letting it all out for once, not having to worry about being judged. Not many words were exchanged that evening, but they were sincere. Valeria loved you, you loved Valeria, it was that simple. You were going to remind yourself of that fact for the rest of eternity if you had to. Until you never had to actively think about that again, until it was that ingrained into your mind.

“Do you want some tres leches? I got some just for you on the way back home.”

You still held onto her shoulders, giving her the first proper smile of the evening. “You spend too much money on me, and you know it.” You playfully and lightly hit her chest, giving her a bashful look. “But, you know, I wouldn’t say no to it either.”

“There’s that beautiful smile, mi bello amor.” Once again, she cradled your face, this time much more gently than before. Once again, she gave you a quick kiss to your cheek before getting up to get the cake. Naturally, you followed suit, allowing her to take the lead as she always had. “Do you want the big piece or the small one?”

“I want you to have the big piece for being the best wife out there!”

“Wrong answer, you get the big one.” And with that, two plates and two forks had been prepared, each filled with some delicious, beautiful cake.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #this year has been quite something but I can't say it's been my worst one yet #anyway more valeria content again <3 #she's such a popular character on this blog but I don't mind that in the slightest #I'm just glad I get to write for the girls and make sure they're loved as well #I'm also glad I got to pick up writing again as a hobby it really helps me a lot with feeling better #even if it can be overwhelming at times haha #anyway some lovely and soft Valeria for once even if she would kill someone for you #but that's just classic Valeria for you!#please enjoy anon and thank you for the request!#happy 2024 to everyone!

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