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panic-in-the-multiverse · 3 months

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B-u-c-k-y? Bucky

Pairings: father!Bucky Barnes x child!reader, featuring Steve Rogers x child!reader and Tony Stark x child!reader (all platonic)

Imagine: The beginning of your relationship with your father and a glimpse at the progress

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of Hydra, mention of child mistreatment, mention of experiments, reader describes as tiny to clarify more that hydra treated them bad, mention of medical equipment such as syringes, not proofread, if you find anything else please tell me

A/N so don’t know where this came from but I haven’t been able to write something in months so I’m just happy to be able to write again hopefully, don’t know if I like it or not but here we go anyway enjoy

Kinda short, dunno about 2000 words or so

might make more parts to this

Sparks lit up the dark corridor as Bucky and Steve walked down the stairs to be met with red lights flashing above each door as the alarms blasted their annoyingly high pitched sound that made your ears ring afterwards. One look at each other, they gave a nod and split up as they took one side each of the corridor.

The first room Bucky opened was filled with cabinets made of plastic and in each was different kinds of test tubes with what looked like some kind of poisonous liquid. Syringes were spread out over the desks neatly. Bucky felt chills run down his spine as he saw the hospital bed (or more like a table with white a quilt?) in the middle of the room. Handcuffs made to restrain a person laid neatly on the bed. Blood covering the sides of the bed and his mind went back to 1945, when Arnim Zola experimented on him. Which had coincidentally also been at a hydra base. His gun raised as he searched the room for any kind of lifeforms, when he found none he went on to the next door.

This continued for at least five more doors, some of them being lab rooms and some what looked like prison cells fortified with extra protection, meaning whoever had once been inside couldn’t have fled on their own.

When he opened the sixth door, Bucky scanned the room and had it not been for the red lights flashing once in a while and the lamp that flickered out a dull light he would've missed the tiny child in the room. Knees pressed to their chest. Hospital gown clinging to their skin from blood and cold sweat. The room had cold chills and even for Bucky who tolerated the cold more than others he could feel the freezing temperature in the room. He lowered his gun and put on the softest expression he could muster during these circumstances. Bucky glanced out the door and yelled out with a soft voice (to not startle the child) once for Steve, Bucky’s gaze not soon after fell back to the quivering child, that was you, who stared at him with wide scared eyes.

Bucky took a careful step towards you as he kneeled down slightly to put his gun onto the floor. He gave you what was supposed to look like a kind smile but looked more like a grimace as he thought about what you must have been through. As soon as you saw Bucky coming closer he watched as dark blue smoke covered your tiny frame and not a second after you were gone. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked around the room for you. His eyes fell on the coroner farthest away from him. You had covered your ears with your hands and your eyes were shut. Your body was tense and knees still pressed to your chest as you quivered further into the corner. Bucky stayed in place not knowing entirely what to do. At that moment he saw Steve walk through the door sparing a glance towards you before back at Bucky his shield raised as they both heard people run their way. With a sigh from Bucky they both left you for the time being as Hydra soldiers started to fill the end of the corridor.

As soon as you heard the sound of shots (your hands not able to muffle out the sounds that came right outside of the room you resided in) die down you opened your eyes. You watched with curious eyes as Bucky (not that you knew his name) walked into the room once more. Like before he put his gun down and gave you a kind smile, this time his hand slowly reached out for you. He watched as you pressed yourself girder into the corner as you stared at his hand.

“hey, hey, okay, it’s okay” Bucky raised both his hands into the air to show he meant no harm as he cautiously took another step closer. “I won’t hurt you” Steve watched from the door opening as Bucky interacted with you. His gaze shifted to the metal objects (or what looked like toys for children) in the room that had started to slightly hover over the ground, including Bucky’s gun.

Bucky’s eyes glanced towards the hovering objects and was a tiny bit glad that you hadn’t done anything to his left arm. “What's your name?” he let out a sigh as you didn't answer knowing you probably wouldn't answer anything he asked you, hell he didn’t even know if you could understand him. His head tilted slightly as he took slow steps forward until he knelt in front of you. The metal objects (except his arm) are rising higher into the air.

“are you alright, you hurt?” He said clearly as he watched you start to pick at the side of your arm where blood was running down onto your hospital gown. He watched as you picked at multiple wounds, some of them he could clearly see were from syringes and his eyes saddened. Both Bucky and Steve watched as you pressed yourself deeper into the corner, as you tried to hide the many bruises that littered your body.

“can I-we help you, can you let us help you out of here?” Bucky gestured with his hand to him and Steve as he said the word us. Once more he didn’t get a verbal answer but instead he got you to move out of the corner slightly. Bucky held his hand out to you once more and watched as you carefully placed your tiny hand in his much bigger one. He couldn’t help but to give a soft smile once more towards you.

"Can you walk?” And yet again there was no answer. Bucky looked at you with an uncertain expression as you stood up. Your body swaying from side to side. He carefully and slowly to make sure you could stop him if you wanted to, took you into his arms. Making sure you wouldn’t fall he stood up straight and started to walk towards Steve who smiled slightly at Bucky as he watched you shut your eyes and bury your head into his chest. The metal objects all crashed to the ground with a loud clatter of noise in various directions.

This had all been four months ago and Bucky had finally started to get you to trust him enough for you to let him teach you how to talk, write and read. By now you also trusted the rest of the avengers enough so that you wouldn’t try to hide from all of them except Steve (excluding Bucky). Tony would most days let you sit beside him as he made new iron man suits and at some time along the way he’d let you help him by using your powers to bend a metal the way he wanted it to be. This would in the end result in you running up to Bucky proud of your accomplishments and for Bucky to ruffle your hair and tell you how proud he was. These interactions with Tony also led to you having more control over your powers at least one of them. You still tended to teleport yourself unintentionally to the other side of the room if you were scared.

Today it just so happened that Bucky held another lesson with you to help you speak. So far you were able to say yes and no and some other basic things such as “hungry” and “tired”. However even though you were starting to learn you still most of the time stuck to being nonverbal and only shook your head yes or no or shrugged your shoulders when you didn’t know.

At this moment Bucky had tried to teach you to say his name and so far your tries had been good but as he knew you were a slow learner which he realized the first time he started to teach you, he knew you wouldn't be getting his name right in a while. For Bucky however this was just a minor setback as he felt he had to teach you everything after all as it so happened he was your father.

As soon as you had gotten to the Avengers base they tried to find out if you had any family that had filed a missing child’s report and to know what your name was as you refused to speak (them not knowing you didn’t know how to). Bucky had to promise you that he would be there for every test they did to you to make sure you were as healthy as you could be at that moment for you to let them be near you with any medical devices. As it turned out Hydra had somehow created you from Bucky’s DNA meaning he was listed as the father in the old Htdra records they found at the Hydra base they had attacked. They had also found out that you were around 8-9 years old. There wasn’t a specific date listed anywhere on when your birthday was, only what year you were born. This had shocked all of the heroes as they by the way you looked were way younger. All the more information they gained only made Bucky feel more guilty. Even if he didn’t know about your existence he still felt guilty over the things you had suffered with Hydra. The fact that you looked so much younger made him feel more guilty as it showed how poorly they had taken care of you. If he just looked at you he would assume you were around 5-6 years old and maybe your powers helped your appearance look younger but it still made him feel guilty.

Bucky had to shake himself out of his thoughts as he watched and heard you try to pronounce his name correctly.

“B-b-a-b-a-ck-y” You fumbled over the words as you hugged the Iron Man plushie Tony had given you a few days prior after he saw you holding a Captain America plushie. Ever since you hadn’t let go of the new plushie, much to Bucky’s demise and Tony’s ego.

Your father couldn’t help but to smile at you, it had been a long time since he smiled as much as when you came into his life and he hoped that maybe you could heal the part in himself that he found to be broken.

“not A” he pointed to the letter a in the book you held in front of you “sweetheart, it’s b-u-cky” Bucky pointed at each letter as he said them. He had originally wanted to teach you to call him dad first but as you had no idea what that word meant yet and only ever heard people call him bucky that's what he went with to for now to not make you confused.

“ba-cku?

Bucky chuckled slightly and remade his actions as before. He pointed to each letter as he said them. “b-u-c-k-y, bucky”

“B-u-c-k-y?”

“That's right sweetie, B-u-c-k-y” Steve spoke from beside you as he took the other seat next to you as he brought you a plate with different types of sliced fruit as they were still trying to see what you liked to eat.

You took fruit from the plate and tasted it. Munching on it you smiled slightly up at Bucky. “Bu-cky, Bucky? Bucky”

Both super soldiers let out encouraging smiles as you repeated Bucky’s name as if it was a chant. Bucky’s smile held more pride than the others who had heard you as he ruffled your hair. He smiled more brightly as he watched you stand up and ruffle his own hair mimicking his actions. With that he let out a small laugh and kissed the top of your head as you sat down once more, ready for Bucky to teach you other words.

#Bucky Barnes x child!reader #bucky Barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x teen!reader #x reader #mcu x child!reader #marvel x child!reader #x child!reader #Steve Rogers x child!reader #Bucky Barnes x child reader #tony stark x child reader #marvel x reader #marvel x platonic reader #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

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hunny-bean · 11 months

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Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank likes you best in blue. Happy Anniversary!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), Fingering, Unprotected P in V, Obnoxiously Fluffy at Times, Lingerie, Teasing, Light Bondage, Kinda Mean Frank, Sub Reader. Ok, I think that's it! Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: Needless to say, I'm expanding my comfort zone. I added a splash of mechanic!frank because he's a guilty pleasure of mine. Sorry if he's a little OOC, it's hard to imagine Frank untraumatized and in a happy relationship. Anyway, I hope this turned out alright. Enjoy! Let me know what you think! XOXO.

P.S. I'm open to requests, if you've got any cool ideas! I love writing, but I have experienced writer's block many times before, so I may need a little assistance at some point. I'll write for any Jon Bernthal character as well as a plethora of others that I don't have time to list. If you want to ask for another character, just take a gamble and I'll let you know if I can do it! Also, nothing immoral or illegal, please. Sorry for the insanely long author's note.

You may proceed :)

Read on AO3

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'Curse this stupid lighting,' you thought, examining your makeup in the floor-length mirror. The dim yellow light bulb in Frank's walk-in closet was seriously throwing off your perception of colors. For example, you were pretty sure your blush was looking natural and sweet, but there was always that slim chance you would look like a clown in a different room.

You were tragically forced into the closet by the sound of Frank's keys rattling in the lock. Before that, you had been enjoying the luxury of a bathroom counter. Unfortunately, Frank only had one toilet and you figured he might need it, so you grabbed your bag and sprinted to the closet the second he opened the door. Under no circumstances would you let Frank catch even the slightest glimpse of you. At least, not until you were finished getting ready. You were planning a surprise, after all.

When Frank finally got home, he instantly knew something was off. Usually, when you spent the night with him (which was most nights), you'd come meet him at the door whenever he finished up at the garage. You'd slide through the kitchen in your fuzzy socks to give him a hug and a kiss and ask how his day was. It had become such a routine for the two of you, that when it didn't happen, his first thought was that you weren't there at all.

Frank pulled his boots off and hung up his jacket before wandering into the kitchen to see if you had left a note. Maybe your roommate had another "crisis," he thought, or you had to make a quick run to the grocery store. Finding nothing, he grew slightly concerned. It was very unlike you to just take off without so much as a text explaining why.

Then, Frank heard a faint rustling noise coming from the bedroom. He smiled softly, all of his previous worries evaporating as he went down the hall to see what you were up to. You were probably just taking a nap, he thought, but when he got to the bedroom, you were still nowhere to be found. Frank was just about to try calling you when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light on under the closet door.

"Hey, baby. You in there?" he asked, knocking gently.

"Be out in a minute!" you called back, fluffing your curls that you barely got done before he showed up.

"Whatcha doin' in the closet?" Frank asked, and even through the door you could hear the amusement in his voice.

"It's a surprise," you replied deviously.

"Come on, darlin', you know I hate surprises," Frank griped.

"You'll like this one, I promise," you proclaimed. "Just be patient."

Frank sighed dramatically. "I wanna see you," he grumbled. Smiling, you meticulously straightened the bow you added to pin two small sections of your hair behind your head.

"Oh, trust me," you muttered. "You will."

Taking a step back, you admired your full body in the mirror. You had bought this underwear set a while ago, and were just waiting for the right occasion to use it. It was a beautiful baby blue color, and it hugged your body perfectly. The bra was a short, sheer corset top that showcased your cleavage without being too obnoxious. The panties were soft and lacy, pulled up high in the sides to accentuate your hips. They weren't quite a thong, but they certainly came close. Decorating both pieces were small embroidered cornflowers that made you feel pretty and delicate. On top of it all was an elegant lace robe that you somehow managed to find in the exact same color. It was almost completely see-through and it barely brushed your mid thigh, so you weren't worried about it obscuring any of your best assets.

You looked good. There was no denying that. In fact, you couldn't think of a time you'd ever looked better. You just hoped Frank's heart was strong enough to withstand the sight of you.

Quickly, you added your finishing touches, brushing on your favorite lip gloss and putting in a pair of dainty diamond earrings that Frank got you for Valentine's Day that year. You gave yourself one more once-over in the mirror. Everything was perfect. At long last, you were ready to execute your master plan.

You were a little nervous, but what you were about to pull off wouldn't work if you let it show, even just a little bit. With that in mind, you took a few deep breaths and rolled your shoulders back. Holding your head up high, you slowly opened the closet door.

When you stepped out into the bedroom, you found Frank laying on top of the covers with his arms positioned behind his head and one leg propped up. He was barely doing anything, and still he was the picture of dominance. Even while wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he looked incredible. In fact, just seeing him was enough to have you fantasizing about crawling on top of him and hiding your face in his chest. But alas, you could not. You had to stay strong.

As soon as Frank saw you, his eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. He immediately sat up straight, looking utterly dazzled. It seemed you were right. This was one surprise he could get behind.

"Do you like it?" you asked beguilingly. You gave him a small spin, showing off all the intricate details.

"That's the stupidest question you've ever asked, sweetheart," Frank replied, rising to meet you across the room. "You're a fuckin' angel."

He pulled you in by your waist to leave a soft peck on your lips. Seeing his mouth shine with your lip gloss when he pulled away made your heart skip a beat. You weren't always a possessive person, but that changed when you discovered what it felt like to leave your mark on someone. Especially someone as desirable as Frank Castle.

"Happy anniversary, baby," Frank drawled sweetly.

"Happy anniversary." You were sure you were smiling like an idiot, but you couldn't help it. You and Frank had been together for four years now, and it felt like the shortest lifetime you'd ever experienced. The love you felt for the man in front of you was stronger than anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in your heart that would never change.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back in for another kiss, this one considerably longer than the last. The two of you stood there for a while, making out while your hands explored the familiar planes of each other's bodies. Frank was fucking your mouth slowly with his tongue, kissing you like a promise in the way he knew made your knees weak. You almost gave up on the plan right then and there, but your excitement for what was to come later that night saved you from falling into the trap.

You reached a hand down between you to palm at Frank's growing erection. You heard him let out a low hum, and you felt the vibrations travel from his chest through yours, relaxing you from the inside out. It didn't take long for him to start pushing back against your warm hand, seeking some relief, but he didn't find any. . .

because that was when you stopped moving. You pulled away from the kiss, keeping your hand perfectly still and looking up at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

"What time is it?" you inquired, focusing all your energy into keeping a straight, innocent face.

"Uh. . . 'bout 6:30?" Frank was obviously not thrilled that you had stopped kissing him to ask that of all things. 'Perfect,' you thought maliciously. Unable to fight it any longer, a sly, excited smile slowly overtook your face.

"It's dinner time," you whispered.

Before he could react, you slipped out of Frank's grasp and sauntered away to the kitchen. You went straight to the pantry to gather everything you would need to make spaghetti and garlic bread, and set it on the counter next to the stove.

When Frank was finished staring blankly at the wall, mystified, he joined you in the kitchen to find you filling up a pot with water at the sink. He crept up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

"What'd you do that for, hmm?" He was using a voice that you were all too familiar with. It was the voice he used when he wanted something from you, and most days it had you folding instantly. He sounded so condescending, and it was playing right into your more submissive side. He was being an asshole, but he was just such a hot asshole, and somehow it always. freaking. worked.

Except it wouldn't work today. You would make sure of it.

"Go sit down, Frankie," you requested, gesturing to the bar behind the sink.

"Dinner can wait a little while. Your tomatoes aren't gonna go bad in an hour, sweetheart." You shut off the faucet and tried to move over to the stove, but Frank tightened his hold on you, refusing to let you go.

"I'm hungry," you complained.

"So am I," Frank teased, making sure you could feel the proof of his statement pressed up against you. You rolled your eyes at how audible his stupid smirk was.

"I'm trying to make us a special anniversary dinner. Now go sit down, Frank."

Frank knew you weren't actually upset with him, and he wasn't stupid so he knew what you were doing. You weren't stupid either, so you knew he secretly liked it. You were having a competition, and you couldn't wait to finally beat your insufferably headstrong boyfriend at a game of wills. All you had to do to win was hold out until you were finished eating, and this time around you had some tricks up your sleeve.

Frank groaned defeatedly. No matter how much he wanted you, his chivalrous upbringing prevented him from denying his lady what she wanted. So, he gave in and trudged around the counter to sit on the barstool across from the sink. You could feel his eyes following you as you went about making your dinner. His gaze was burning holes all over your body, heating up your core and exhilarating your mind. Every movement you made was intentional, perfectly executed in a way that kept Frank on edge and his jeans too tight.

When you needed something from the lower cabinets, you would bend over to show off your panties, and the fabric would stretch tighter around the swell of your ass. When you needed something from the top cabinets, you would stand on your tiptoes and stretch to reach it, revealing more of your tummy and causing the underwire to push your chest out a little further. While you were reading from the recipe book, you would "absent-mindedly" twirl your hair around your fingers or lean forward on the counter, subtly arching your back.

Once, when you were finished blending your home-made spaghetti sauce and it was heating up on the stove, you dipped a finger in the pot and delicately licked it clean. You didn't look at Frank while you did it because you're sure you would have laughed at how ridiculous it was, but you knew he saw it (and liked it) from his small frustrated sigh.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, semi-sarcastically.

"Nope!" you replied happily, dropping your handful of dry spaghetti in the boiling water.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." You smiled at him, walking past the bar to put your leftover garlic in the pantry on the other side.

As you were walking back, you failed to notice Frank had hopped to the barstool closest to you until he had already sprung his attack. Lightning fast, he snatched you up and pulled you towards him, slipping a hand under your robe to grab at your ass and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you still. He buried his face in your neck, and you felt him shudder and tighten his grip as he inhaled deeply. The special occasion perfume you wore never failed to drive him wild.

"It's just that I feel so useless sitting over here, doing nothing," he purred, his lips tracing patterns across your collarbone.

"You're definitely not doing nothing," you mumbled.

"That right? What am I doin' then, hmm?"

When you didn't respond, Frank slid his hand away from your ass and dragged two of his fingers gently over the lace covering your arousal. When he drew his hand back and held it up, you saw his fingers were significantly shinier than they were before. That was the biggest downside to fancy underwear. Sure, they look nice, but they do nothing to absorb moisture.

"Is that what I'm doing?" You nodded. "Yeah? But I've just been sitting here," Frank teased.

'Goddammit,' you thought. 'How did I ever think I could make it past dinner with this asshole?'

"Know what I think? I think you just like attention. You put on a show for whoever's watching and you get soaked right through, is that it?" He moved his hand back down to start rubbing gentle circles on your clit through the fabric.

"No, I don't," you fussed, pushing at Frank's bicep to try and dislodge his hand. He just pressed down harder, making you desperately wish you could squeeze your thighs together and grind on his fingers until you were dripping on the floor.

"No? Then what is it, sweetheart? What's got you so wet, huh?"

"Just you," you mumbled. "Just your attention."

"Yeah? That's sweet, baby. Well if this is all my fault, then I should do somethin' about it, shouldn't I?"

Unable to fight back any longer, you nodded. The ache in your core was running too deep, and the relief Frank promised seemed more satisfying than any victory possibly could. Grinning dangerously, Frank released you and stood up before pulling you back into a feverish kiss. You got so lost in the contact that you didn't realize Frank was pushing you until your back hit the counter.

Suddenly, Frank's hands traveled down to settle on your upper thighs. This was a signal you were all too familiar with. Barely a second after you felt it, you jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he set you down on the counter.

As soon as he had you where he wanted you, Frank latched onto your neck, kissing and biting wherever he could reach, leaving faint red marks in all your most sensitive places. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and bit your lip hard as voltaic sensations zipped up and down your spine. Frank slipped your robe gently off your shoulders, leaving light kisses along the newly exposed skin.

Frank left a darker bruise on the base of your neck before tenderly grabbing your jaw to trace his tongue along your bottom lip. With one hand (and a little cooperation on your part), he pulled your robe the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side. Then, he began moving slowly down your torso, stopping to nip lightly at your rigid buds through the flowers hiding them and lick a few gentle stripes up your stomach. When he got too far down to bend over comfortably, he pulled his barstool up behind him and tugged you to the edge of the counter before sitting back down.

At first you didn't know what he was planning, but you figured it out pretty quick when he grabbed your legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Your tailbone was aching and the faucet was digging into your back, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when Frank began leaving hot kisses up your thigh. His stubble was rough against your skin and you were secretly hoping you would still be feeling it in the morning.

You felt Franks nose bump against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your obvious wet spot. The sudden feeling surprised you, and you didn't have time to prevent a small whine from slipping out. Smirking, Frank drew his tongue tortuously slowly from the very back of your cunt to your sensitive nub. When he reached it, he sucked gently at it, feeling your thighs tremble around his head.

"Frank, please," you gasped, throwing your head back when he sucked harder.

Frank finally started slipping his fingers in your waistband, and tapped your hip to get you to lift up. He tugged your panties down to your knees and-

*hisssssssssss*

"Oh, shit!" you cried, pushing Frank away from you. Your spaghetti was bubbling over! You hopped off the counter and pulled your underwear back up, running to stir the pasta with your wooden spoon. As soon as you got the water to settle, your timer went off, signaling that it was done.

You grabbed Frank's strainer (which was actually one of yours that you brought over to encourage Frank to eat better) and drained your spaghetti over the sink. While you were shaking out all the water droplets, you looked up to find Frank moping with his head resting in his hand.

"Oh, come on," you said, noticing his pouty face. "What did you want me to do, let your kitchen burn down?"

"You can't start a fire with spaghetti."

"You'd be surprised."

"I just needed five more minutes, baby. That's it," Frank complained.

"Five more minutes and we'd be eating spaghetti-flavored mush," you retorted. "Besides, dinner's just about ready now. You've only gotta wait another half hour, and then you can have whatever you want."

Frank brightened slightly at the prospect, though he tried to hide it. Turns out, after four years of dating, you learn to spot the little emotions flickering behind your partner's eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying it."

"I just wanna touch you. Why won't you let me touch you, hmm? I know you want me to," Frank grumbled.

"I did let you touch me," you argued back lightheartedly.

"Yeah, but that wasn't part of the plan, was it baby? You're still trying to stay away from me."

"Why does it matter what I'm trying to do if you got what you wanted anyway?" you reasoned.

"I didn't get what I wanted."

"Tough luck. You will."

"You would've lost if it weren't for those fuckin' noodles," Frank jeered.

"Why do you think I set so many timers?"

*ding*

You switched off the oven and grabbed some potholders to extract your garlic bread.

"Go sit at the table. I'll bring you a plate," you ordered.

Frank sighed, but he did as he was told. As the two of you ate together, you actually had a very nice conversation, laughing and talking about your days as if nothing had even happened. Frank told you about a guy that was trying to save the ugliest, most broken car that had ever entered the shop. You told Frank about the return of one of your nightmare customers. For the entire time you were seated at the table, there was no torture whatsoever on either part. You were both content to celebrate your anniversary with good food and the best company you could ask for.

When you were finally done eating and talking, it had been well over half an hour, but it didn't feel like it. Your time spent with Frank never dragged on endlessly like it seemed to elsewhere. His presence was like a multipurpose drug to you, and it worked better than any stimulant or depressant you could find in even the sketchiest of back-alleys in Hell's Kitchen. There was no doubt in your mind that you had found the person you would be spending the rest of your life with.

You stood up to begin clearing your dishes, but Frank caught your wrist before you could touch a single utensil.

"Oh, no you don't," Frank said, pushing you back down into your chair. "You did the hard part, let me handle all the easy stuff."

"Yes, sir," you giggled, watching him work. When everything was cleared, you joined Frank in the kitchen, where you found him rinsing the dishes with warm water and loading them into the dishwasher.

Copying what he had done to you earlier, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, hugging him tightly and pressing your face against his back. He patted your arm with his wet hands, and you smiled into his shoulder before wiping it off on his shirt. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, enjoying his warmth and his familiar scent.

"You can just leave them in the sink for now," you suggested sleepily.

"Now who's impatient?" Frank teased.

Groaning softly, you gave him one more big squeeze before letting go and walking away down the hall.

"When you're ready, you can come meet me in the bedroom," you called behind you. Frank finished up pretty quickly after that.

He entered the bedroom to find you laying down with your eyes closed. Smiling at how peaceful you looked, he carefully laid down on the bed next to you. Almost immediately, you rolled over on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest against your face. He was like your own personal space heater, which made him very useful to have around in the colder months.

You shivered at the feeling of his hand running through your hair. 'How did I ever relax before I met him?' you wondered. You felt dangerously close to falling asleep, and as good as that sounded, there was something you had been looking forward to for a while that sounded significantly better.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you sat straddling Frank's stomach, staring into his eyes and waiting for him to make the first move. You had been having fun all evening; the night belonged to him now.

"I know what you were after earlier, sweetheart. You look a little tired now, is that still what you want?" he asked. He was always so gentle with you. Even when he really wasn't.

"Yeah," you confirmed, "But I want you to do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh? That's a dangerous thing to say, baby."

"I trust you," you whispered. "And I already know I'm gonna like it, whatever you decide."

Frank hummed, running his hands up and down your thighs as he thought about what to do first. You knew he had reached a decision when he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed beside him. You yelped at the sudden motion, looking over at him to see exactly what it was he was trying to do.

Frank was taking his belt off. He slid over to sit in front of you, belt in hand, and pulled you back onto his lap.

"You know I can't let you get away with all that bullshit you pulled back there, right?" he asked patronizingly.

"I mean. . . you could," you responded.

Frank scoffed. "You should shut your mouth before you make this worse for yourself. You wanna get to the fun part, don't you?"

"This is the fun part," you confessed.

Frank grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"You're gonna take that back in a minute, baby," Frank growled. He released your jaw to catch both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back.

"All I wanted when I got home was to make my pretty girl feel good, but you decided to be a fuckin' brat." There was a darkness in his eyes that you knew was just for show, but it thrilled you all the same. "I'm gonna show you exactly what that feels like."

Holding both your wrists in one hand, he took his belt and wrapped it tightly around them, latching the buckle and securing them together. When he was sure it would hold and wasn't too uncomfortable, he pushed you off his lap so you were laying on your back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "I'm gonna finish what we started."

He immediately sprung into action, forcibly spreading your legs and slipping your panties all the way down. He tossed them aside and fit himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you. At first you weren't sure how this was supposed to be a punishment, but you figured it out pretty quickly.

Frank kissed you so deeply, tugging at your hair and tracing your curves with his fingertips. He gripped your waist and your thighs, his dull fingernails leaving behind little indents when he'd get carried away. He could put his hands all over you, wherever and whenever he wanted, but you couldn't do the same. You wanted to pull him closer and squish his biceps teasingly to make him laugh. You wanted to feel his stubble in your hands and rub his shoulders as he bit your neck. You never realized how important your hands were when kissing someone until they were taken from you.

As Frank took to reinforcing the fading red marks he left earlier, he slipped a hand between your thighs to cup your dripping pussy in his palm. You gasped as he used the heel of his hand to rub it a few times, the pressure creating an addictive friction that had you grinding down against him.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with practiced ease and stroking it gently. You cried out softly at the sudden stretch. Frank's fingers filled you up so much better than yours ever could. Sometimes you swore he knew more about what made you feel good than you knew about yourself.

Your thighs shook as he began pumping his fingers slowly in and out, stopping every so often to grind his palm against your clit. Your arms were falling asleep underneath you, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Frank's hair tickling your stomach as he moved down to replace his fingers with his tongue.

You whined at the loss when he pulled his hand away, but your disappointment didn't last long as he truly began to finish what he'd started. Your thighs clamped down around his head when you felt the first swipe of his tongue, but he forced them back open, his wet fingers marking your thigh with your slick.

You moaned as he gave your cunt several long licks, cleaning up the moisture that had pooled between your folds. The need to reach out and push his head down or grab onto his hair was overwhelming, but you couldn't move. All you could do was take what he gave you. When he decided you'd had enough teasing, he dove in fully, eating you out like it was his favorite thing in the world. He tongued at your clit, sucking it at random intervals to see what noises he could coax out of you. Sometimes, he would lap gently at your entrance, just barely dipping inside so you could feel how empty you really were. He gave you one more rough lick before plunging his fingers back inside you and sucking hard at your clit. You almost sobbed as you came over his hand, trembling through your release. Frank groaned softly against you, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering and pulsing around any part of him.

He patted your thighs lovingly, coming up from between your legs to kiss you. You were still slightly out of it and breathing heavily, but tasting yourself on Frank's tongue brought you back to the present.

"See what you did to me now?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Think we're even, then?"

"Uh-huh," you answered, struggling to sit up with your hands tied.

"I don't."

"What?"

"I didn't let you touch me, but I still made you feel good, didn't I? All you ever did was tease me. Do you still think we're even, baby?" Frank questioned, stroking your lip with his thumb.

"No," you mumbled.

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

Instead of responding verbally, you parted your lips and sucked his thumb gently into your mouth. After a few seconds, Frank pulled it out and replaced it with the two fingers that had previously been inside you, encouraging you to clean them off.

"That's a good start." Frank pulled his fingers back, satisfied with your work. "But you're gonna need to do more than that, sweetheart."

You hesitated, trying to figure out how you were supposed to lean forward without falling flat on your face.

"You know what I want, baby," he encouraged. "What are you waiting for?" Frank knew very well what you were waiting for, but his sadistic side wanted to watch you figure it out.

Rising up onto your knees, you spread your thighs apart for better balance, and slowly began to lower your head towards Frank's zipper. You made it all the way down without crashing, but you refused to make a fool out of yourself by trying to unbutton his pants with your teeth. Instead, you gazed up at him desperately, pleading for assistance with just your eyes.

Unfortunately, Frank wasn't budging. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, letting you know you were gonna have to work for it. Huffing, you lowered your gaze back to the zipper, bracing yourself for your impending embarrassment. You were just about to attack his button with your tongue when you were struck by an idea. There was more than one way you could work for it.

Leaning in closer, you started mouthing at his bulge, kissing it wetly through the fabric. You could tell it was affecting him by the way he twitched under your tongue when you licked lovingly at (what you hoped was) the tip. Using your nose, you nudged at the hem of Frank's t-shirt, and he pulled it up for you so you could leave little red marks and sweet kisses across his abs. Frank grunted quietly when you sucked at a sensitive spot, petting your head softly so you'd do it again. He was really enjoying the sight of you bent over, begging for his cock with your mouth. So much so, that he almost didn't want to give it to you.

He held out for a while, only giving in when the warmth of your mouth soaked fully through his jeans, wetting his dick and making him want more.

"Shit, alright," he groaned, reaching down to unzip his jeans. He tugged them down just enough to get to his boxers, reaching inside to pull out his hard, leaking cock.

"There," he murmured, tapping it sweetly against your cheek. "Have at it, pretty girl."

You were concerned about catching it in your mouth without your hands, but Frank generously decided you didn't have to everything on your own. When you turned your head towards it, he held it still and fed it to you slowly, stroking your hair as you went at your own pace.

You paused for a little while in the beginning to pay attention to his dripping head, laving at the sensitive bottom and sucking softly at the tip. You left a dainty lick on his slit before you took more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around his length. You stared up at him as you dragged your tongue teasingly along the underside, tracing a prominent vein that you were very familiar with.

Frank's breathing was getting heavier, letting you know you were doing a good job. Feeling emboldened, you carefully took him all the way to the base, choking softly as he hit the back of your throat.

"Attagirl, fuck," Frank breathed, pushing your head down farther. He held you there for a moment, subtly grinding his cock against the roof of your mouth. Jolting at the feeling, he pushed a little too hard by accident, triggering your gag reflex. You pulled back to catch your breath before continuing to bob your head up and down along his length, taking him as deep as you could without coughing. Before long, your jaw was aching and tears were streaming down your cheeks from choking a few too many times.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of working Frank over with nothing but your mouth, he groaned deeply, signaling his impending release.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" he warned, sighing as he came in hot ribbons down your throat. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the feeling of his cock pulsing on your tongue, waiting for it to soften slightly before letting it fall from your mouth.

You sat back up and watched Frank pull his pants the rest of the way off before tucking himself back into his underwear.

"Are we even now?" you asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Frank smiled. "Come here, I'll get you untied real quick."

You turned away from him so he could take the belt off you, wiggling your fingers and rolling your wrists to regain the feeling you had lost in your hands. Twisting back around, you pounced, knocking him flat on his back and pushing his shirt up as far as it would go. Making up for lost time, you began rubbing at his chest and his shoulders, and tracing his abs with your fingertips. He chuckled at your neediness, pulling his shirt off to give you better access, which you happily took advantage of. Cradling his face in your hands, you left dozens of little kisses all over his mouth and his neck. It felt so good to be able to touch him again, you didn't think you would ever let go.

Still holding you close to him, Frank turned so his back was against the headboard and he could cuddle you in a more comfortable position. For a while, you laid in silence, syncing your breathing with his and seeing if you could find a way to match your heartbeats. So far, not much luck, but you were sure you'd figure it out someday.

Checking the clock on the nightstand, you saw that you'd been laying there for about ten minutes. "That should be enough time," you thought. You looked up to find Frank's eyes closed, but you knew he was awake.

"Frankie?" you called, almost inaudibly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think it's time for the 'fun part' now?"

Frank smiled. "Do you want it to be?"

He opened his eyes, watching you closely as you unfastened your bra in the back, and slipped it off slowly. You dropped it on the bed beside you, leaving you completely exposed for Frank to admire you.

"Yeah, I do," you whispered.

Frank surged up to kiss you again, this time much gentler than before. He ran his hands up your sides to tenderly massage your bare chest. You whimpered into the kiss as he rubbed at your nipples, the little buds sensitive from being previously neglected.

Feeling impatient, you tugged his boxers down and quickly began stroking his growing length. Frank hissed at the shock, but he was thrusting up into your hand before too long. As soon as he was half hard, you lifted up and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down all the way. You cried out at the intrusion, feeling him curve perfectly inside you to brush your sweet spot on every thrust.

You sat there for a minute, just barely circling your hips as you focused on the feeling of him hardening fully inside you. When he was finished growing, you began to ride him, slowly pushing your body up and down on his cock as he raised his hips to meet you half-way.

Frank punched little noises out of your chest with every bounce, leaning in to hide his face in your neck. He breathed in the wonderful scent of sweat, sex, and expensive perfume, groaning desperately into your skin.

After a while of thrusting and grinding and bouncing, your thighs began to ache, and you weren't able to maintain the same speed anymore. Picking up on your sudden change, Frank took charge almost on autopilot, and flipped you over so you were underneath him.

You moaned at the relief and the change in tempo as he fucked into you faster and harder and deeper, but still with so much love and care behind every movement. When you caught his eyes, it felt like you were staring into your future, and you saw nothing but inevitable happiness.

Your gasps and whines got louder and louder as you chased your release. Your soaked cunt was pulling Frank back in harder, squeezing tight around him to try and keep him from pulling out. Every sensation you were feeling kept building and building until finally, the tension snapped. You almost screamed as your climax washed over you like a rising tide, whiting out your vision and sending waves of pleasure washing over you.

Frank was right behind you, as the feeling of your walls constricting and fluttering around him pushed him over the edge. He came deep inside you, filling you up perfectly before pulling out carefully and collapsing beside you.

The two of you laid next to each other, holding each other tightly and soaking up the afterglow permeating the air all around you. You couldn't have asked for a better anniversary, or a better special someone to share it with. In that moment, as you got ready to drift off to sleep, everything was perfect.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #the punisher

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two-dolla-bills · 7 months

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Top 10 mechanisms songs that you can get away with playing at a retailers without too many side eyes

I got a job in retail and I felt inspired lol

Disclaimer: this is not a list of the best mechanisms songs/the ones I think deserve to go "mainstream", they're just the ones that would blend in the best

1. Sirens

This song is probably the mechanisms' least "centered" song. It doesn't mention any characters, it has no narration, and out of context it just sounds like A Song that you might hear on the radio. Sirens is to the mechanisms as you're the one that I want is to grease, you know?

2. Trial by song

THIS one. It's in the same category to me as Sirens; you can listen to it by itself and not suspect much. Unlike Sirens which can be completely separated and still make sense, this one is more like a whole new world from Aladdin. There are parts that make it obvious that it's from a larger whole, but if you just so happen to catch the "safe" parts you won't suspect much.

Points were deducted due to Mr. Soldier's unique vocals. (Unique as in not very common in mainstream music)

3. Empty trail

This is no offense to Dr. La Cognizzi, but sometimes when she sings it's hard to make out what she's saying, which works in her favor in these circumstances. It sounds country/rock, which help it blend in with some dad rock songs. If I remember correctly, the melody was actually taken from a Led Zeppelin song, so if you aren't paying attention to what's ACTUALLY being said you can get away with claiming it's a cover.

4. Ties that bind

Although this one does mention many plot points, many fans have stated that they had no idea what the fuck was being said until the have looked for the lyrics (myself included) this, combined with it's jazzy rythm, make it able to blend in with other songs, similarly to empty trail

5. Odin

The most "normal" song out of the entirety of The Bifrost Incident. This song made it to the top five because it has similarities with Roam by the B-52's, but had points deducted due to it clearly being about an awesome space train

6. Lost in the cosmos

This might just be personal opinion, but it sounds like a church song. You can pull off the effect of it being about earth Jesus and not space robot Jesus if you have particularly bad quality speakers and a busy store w/lots of noise. Again, the lyrics kinda give it away as to not being entirely main stream

7. Stranger

Look it's a banger, ok? Many of the lyrics could be taken as just being metaphors, but I feel like you have to squint to "see" it. Pay too much attention and shit gets a little weird. Also, points deducted because it's two men singing together and not a man and a woman, which throws a wrench into the works. At kohl's it might raise some eyebrows but in like hot topic it'll blend in a little better

8. Redeath

You would think a song about a sphoenix (space phoenix) would be lower on the list but you'd be wrong. It's a really pretty song with a good original melody, and it's something that can be drowned out by a particularly rowdy crowd. Like Stranger, it would blend in better at a hot topic than at kohl's, but only slightly.

9. Elysian Fields

The melody in Elysian Fields is taken directly from the song wayfaring stranger, which has been coverd by Jonny Cash, Ed Sheeran, Poor Man's Poison, and The Longest Johns, AS WELL HAS having been featured in the movie 1917 and in the video game The Last of Us II, which make it very recognizable. Because of this recognizability, people who know the original song may be caught off guard by hearing it in a Walmart with completely different lyrics. It was originally in 7th place, but the popularity of the original takes off many points

10. Once and future king

It's a banger, don't get me wrong, but it also very heavily and clearly mentions plot points from the album, which itself is heavily base on Aurtharian mythology; something very well known in the western world (also the names are not common at all and most haven't been in fashion in centuries). In a crowded, busy space with not very good quality speakers it could potentially blend in, but one or two names might sneak out. The only reason it's on the list is because of the instrumental outro, which sounds normal enough

#the mechanisms #hnoc #tbi #udad #two songs that didn't make it on the list were cinder's song and sleeping beauty #they're both good but too specific

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leahrintarou · 7 months

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🎃 Iwaizumi Hajime - Nipple Play

Warnings: afab!reader, fem bodied reader, and they were roommates :o, nipple stimulation ofc, slight begging, wearing his clothes, teasing, makeout (a lil bit lol), soft!dom iwaizumi. Word Count: 2.6k (..i lost perception of time...)

"oh shit-" y/n groaned after realizing the circumstances of her current situation. She'd just gotten out of the shower but failed to remember that it was currently laundry day. With that being said, majority of her comfortable clothes were in the wash or damp and waiting for its cycle in the dryer. Securely wrapping her bath towel around her body, she sighed, taking a look in the mirror to contemplate her limited options which were; A: stay in the towel and lock herself in her room until the dryer's cycle was over, B: drag on the articles of clothing that were so uncomfortable that they hadn't been worn on months, or C: ask her roommate for his clothing and wear that for the time being.

Right now, neither of them sounded appropriate to her liking, but for her own sake of comfort, she decided to go with the latter. "hajime!" She called from the bathroom, peaking her head out from the crack of its ajar opening. She heard the sound of his sturdy and approaching steps, making her sigh with some sort of relief. "you okay?" He questioned, finally standing in front of the door, examining the situation. "yeah..i was wondering if my clothes were done drying?" She asked, a sigh falling form her lips when he mumbled a small "no. not yet."

"well, until they're done, can I borrow a shirt and some bottoms?"

He smiled, a quiet laugh following after. "need underwear too?" y/n gave him a harmless glare as he pivoted on his heels to make his way to his room. "nope. I've got plenty of those" she rolled her eyes when he said a quick. "..course you do" under his breath as he disappeared into his bedroom that was down the hallway. y/n pulled herself back into the bathroom before impatiently tapping against the sink to pass time. The heat received from her partially-scorching shower was finally starting to wear off, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of her skin from the chilled air.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a knock was heard against the door. She fully opened it, taking a step out before taking the neatly folded clothing out of iwaizumi's offering hold. "let me know if you want something different. Those might be too-" he was cut off when y/n spoke hastily. "it's fine, thanks haji" she gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded, eye's glancing down for a quick second before he looked back up to her face. "hey-" she scolded, playfully pushing his chest, making him take a step back.

"you towel's loosening" he grinned, making his way to the living room while y/n glanced down at where she'd tuck the corner of her towel withing it's tightened wrap. It was practically hanging on by a thread and she was lucky that when it almost dropped, he'd already turned around. It was then when y/n realized that he left her to her own privacy for the sake of avoiding embarrassment for both parties. She hurried to her room, closing the door behind herself as she tugged the t-shirt over her head. She went over to her drawer, taking out a pair of underwear and pulling them up her legs before following them with the sweatpants that iwaizumi lent her.

It was the pair that he wore often and was seemingly his favorite. y/n must've had special privileges tonight. The scent that were threaded through the soft fabric was comforting and has she pushed her arms through the empty holes of the shirt, she pulled on the hem of it before making her way to her door. She realized that she hadn't put on a bra and this was normal since it was late and she was winding down but usually her clothes would actually fit her perfectly. His however, hung loosely, especially in the front area of her chest. The fabric grazed the sensitive buds on her chest and her eye's widened slightly.

She didn’t want to bother her roommate for a different shirt especially after she'd declined his invitation that she was more than welcome to get something different from his closet. Shaking her head as if to rid the thoughts quickly, she opened her door and made her way to the living room to see that iwaizumi was sitting on the sofa as his gaze lingered on the tv in which was displaying a movie. His eyes traveled to her figure and he couldn't seem to break his attention to anything else. y/n made her way over to his figure before taking a seat next to him.

She snuggled under the throw blanket, getting close to his body for warmth. "thanks again" she smiled, looking over as he returned her gaze. They were a bit closer than the either of them anticipated so when he replied with a small "don't mention it." The warmth of his words fanned against her lips. She quickly turned her head away with a nod before forcing herself to keep her eye's on the tv. He lifted his hips slightly to readjust his positioning to slouch a bit more. y/n felt his warmth slightly disappear so in desperation, she made up her mind and rested her head on top of his own. "what are you doing?" He laughed but didn’t move.

"I'm cold."

He sat up correctly and motioned for her to lay her head on his chest instead. He readjusted the blanket to fully cover her body and she let out a sigh when the loose t-shirt grazed her chest once again. It caught her off guard, therefore she didn’t prepare herself to restrain against the sensitivity. Her body shuddered and iwaizumi leaned over to see if she way okay. "what's wrong?" He questioned, making her look up at his face of concern. "n-nothing. I'm fine." She replied, pinching the fabric of the shirt to pull it away from her chest.

"oh, do you want a different shirt?" He noticed this action of hers and y/n shook her head. She'd probably have to explain her problem with the shirt so iwaizumi could be able to give her one that would prevent her discomfort, so she decided to avoid that situation by all means. He didn’t reply, but decided to not push it any further. He mindlessly slung his arm around her shoulders and his hand hovered over her chest, but not close enough for contact. They fell into a small silence and due to the comfort, iwaizumi began to relax.

Relaxing just enough for his arm to go a bit limp and so did his hand. His fingertips finally grazed the sensitive bud and the quietest whimper fell from y/n's lips as she scrunched the fabric of the blanket in her fist. "oh shit, I didn’t mean to-"

"can you do that..again..?"

iwaizumi froze in place, looking down at the side of y/n's face and the top of her head as she mumbled the request. "what are you talking about?" He questioned, panic rising in his chest. "please, haji?"

he sighed. "are you sure?" He questioned, looking down at her as she turned to face his stomach and she nodded with pleading eyes, looking up at his own. Y/n guided her hand to his own, bringing him to palm one of her breast through the shirt. He was amused when she flinched from the touch, despite her already knowing that it was about to happen. "you're that sensitive?" She frowned at his teasing tone, breaking their gaze to look elsewhere.

"shut up, I can't help it."

Iwaizumi used his freehand to cup her cheek and redirect her eyes to fall back upon his features. "do you want me to touch you?" He questioned, voice softer now and y/n realized that he was serious. She contemplated whether to say yes or not, after all they'd only been roommates for six months, but still grew close as if they'd been roommates for six years. She knew she needed this more than ever since they last time she engaged in any romantically intimate moment with anyone was two months ago when she was tipsy and hooked up with one of the guys from her art class.

Finally thinking it through, she nodded and allowed her hand to fall from his own since he palmed her breast with his other hand. He was teasing her and it was driving her crazy. Allowing his hand to fall from her chest slowly as he made his way to grip her waist, iwaizumi motioned for her to straddle him instead and she did so with a swift movement of her body. He smiled at her eagerness before using a hand to sneak under her shirt and the other hand to lift it from the hem. y/n shivered as the cool air hit her torso and then finally brushed over her chest.

Iwaizumi's warmth from his hand made contact witch her breast in a firm palm and she leaned into his touch, back arching ever so slightly when she let out a satisfied hum. "to think that my clothes caused you to get so worked up is beyond me-"

"hajime" she whined when he spoke since it was occupying the time of what could be happening. "but," he smiled, placing a chase kiss to her sternum as he looked up at her pleasured expression. "I'm glad it happened" his actions of affection were gentle yet firm, cold yet his touch was filled with warmth, and lust filled yet his composure was held in place and didn’t look like it'll be moving any time soon. His tongue licked at her soft skin, making her moan when it traveled to her nipple.

He lapped his tongue around the area, making sure to leave the actual bud and where she was most sensitive; untouched. He looked up at her, pulling back as he aided her in removing the shirt completely. Although he loved seeing her in his clothes, it was doing more harm than good at the moment. The shirt was discarded to the floor and iwaizumi returned to his previous acts. "you're so pretty like this, sweetheart."

He shifted his hand, using his thumb to pad over her nipple which made her let out a whimper. "stop teasing, haji" she groaned, reaching for his wrist to stop his movements completely. "but, I wanna see how much you can handle 'til you break" his voice dropped an octave and y/n's hand faltered to grip the fabric of his shirt when his tongue finally made contact with her bare nipple, licking a warm stripe against the skin and y/n jolted at the sensation. "do you think you can cum if I keep doing this?" His breath was warm, heating the dampened area of her breast.

"t-that’s not possible hajime." her words faltered when he repeated the action once more. "you wanna bet?" He smiled, the malicious intents practically reflecting in his dilated pupils. She moaned at the pinch felt as he used his teeth to gently bite the sensitive bud of her chest. "w-wait-"

He disregarded her calls of lenience and used his tongue to his content. Swirling laps around her bud before finally giving her some relief and giving attention to where she was most sensitive. Using his other hand to grope at her other breast, he still didn’t provide her with much mercy and y/n became a whimpering mess in his hold. She felt as if she was melting and turning into putty the longer the pleasure lasted. He felt how she made attempts to grind down onto his thigh, but he would stop her movements in an instant before following with something along the lines of. "we made a bet. You're gonna cum just by this-" and would follow his words with a merciless tongue to her sensitive skin.

y/n's body would jolt every once in a while when he'd pinch her other nipple in-between his thumb and index finger. He'd get a kick out of it every time she'd let out a whine, throwing her head back in pleasure. It was probably one of the first time's that someone has ever taken her oversensitive nipples into so much thought and consideration. There'd be a small segment for foreplay, but not actually making it the main source of pleasure that would bring her to her approaching high.

And speaking of approaching high, y/n didn’t want to admit it, but the pleasure was in fact building up and if iwaizumi hadn't pulled away from her breast just a second early, she would've been feeling her climax right about now. But he knew her, and he knew her well. She almost hated it, yet she loved it. "oh, what was that just now, sweetheart? Were you about to do the so called 'impossible'?" he says, reusing her usage of words just to tease her. "okay fine, you win, but don’t stop again." she said with a tone of desperation and it almost sounded like begging which peaked Iwaizumi's curiosity.

"that sounds a bit demanding of you. Ask nicely and I'll think about it." he smiled when y/n gave his a barely manageable glare. Her eyes were heavy and the only think stopping her from dozing off was the feeling that she's been awaiting for what seemed like hours now. "don’t do this to me, haji" y/n's voice was filled with what sounded like defeat and strangely enough, iwaizumi felt all the more excited. "you," he started, reaching for y/n's hand. "don't do this to me." He guided her to palm his lap and that’s when y/n felt his growing erection that was starting to become uncomfortable for him.

"I didn’t do that" she protested, keeping her palm against the area even after he removed his hand from her own. "so who's been trying to grind against me for the past couple of minutes?" y/n shut her eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed on how he remembered every detail of what occurred earlier in the night and currently. "haji, I wanna cum already-"

"I know you do sweetheart, but I want you to do one thing for me for that to happen." he placed a kiss to her chest and then her neck, soon following with her jaw. She sighed, locking eye contact with him, a pout on her lips when she knew there wasn’t any other way out of this. "please, I need you to make me cum, hajime and I want you to use your mouth to do it." she mumbled, voice in a soft whisper and to hide her embarrassment, she leaned down to place a kiss to his lips and it led to a small exchange of each other's saliva as their tongues toyed with one another.

He pulled back, smiling as he readjusted her on his lap, pulling her closer so she was sitting directly atop his growing erection. He let out a groan from the pleasure filled pressure before speaking. "see? That's all you had to do for me." y/n let out an annoyed hum but it was soon drawn out into a moan when he latched his lips around her once abandoned nipple. he used his tongue to lap in all different directions, the pleasure enticing sounds of y/n driving him to do all but holdback. "h-haji-" she moaned with a studder as the pleasure went straight to her core.

The buildup had finally hit its breaking point within y/n and a whine of overbearing yet satisfying pleasure erupted from her throat while hajime continued his movements to ground her back to him. She panted, chest heavying and pressing into his features as it did so. He parted from her, letting out a sigh as y/n leaned down to place a kiss to his lips and then hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"Sit-up, sweetheart. We still have one more thing to take care of and I'm sure you're feeling a little bit empty right now."

I apologize for the late upload, but all of these chapters are late bc i missed an entire WEEK, but we don't speak about that :D

however, i hope you enjoyed! tysm for reading. reblogs and notes are very much appreciated! ily all <3 take care!

taglist: @meowmeowmau @jiwooahae @sunaemoby @diana7was7here @msbyomimi @chocoweird0 @riiceandsoup @issllaaa

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perenial · 9 months

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gene im so glad you said this cause I haven't seen anyone else comparing it to the book as source material for like character and tone but i am So sure that if terry was alive the season would not be like this but i fear good omens fans dont realise how big a factor the lack of terry's influence is?? or like they forget that good omens was never just neilman???

ok before i go any further: i rly don't want to detract from anyone's enjoyment of the season and everything im going to say comes from a place of love for a) the original novel (& season 1 to a certain extent bc it got me back into it lol) and b) tv as a medium so like peace and love on planet let people enjoy things etc etc

but

like u said, terry's influence on the book was enormous – what makes gomens gomens is the balance of his genuine warmth and precise understanding of humanity tempered with neilman's sardonic voice and general like.....savvy approach to storytelling? i guess u could call it? anyway what rly helps the book is that it took them years to write it, passing ideas back and forth and rewriting each other's work until their voices blended seamlessly and a well structured capital-s Story was created. when i praise the book for being self-contained i think a huge part of that comes from the circumstances in which it emerged: two authors with complementary styles writing in a v particular time period where they had both the space to play with their ideas and the constraints of the novel as a storytelling format from which to craft something extremely specific.

adaptations are a tricky business and a tv version of gomens produced literal decades after the book was always going to have some unique challenges, but i don't think that's a bad thing bc the challenges could prove to be creative opportunities to take both the established audience and those new to the story by surprise. my biggest hot take here is that i don't think translating a story into a different medium means it has to follow the original narrative exactly, bc each medium has its own ways of communicating information and these structures, rules and traditions in turn inform what that story is. what matters more than following a story beat-by-beat is capturing what that story is about at its core, what themes and messages and ideas it works through and how.

all this is to say i never expected tv gomens to be a perfect reproduction of the book and if it had it been, it probably would have been worse off for it. that being said, there are parts of the book – like u said, its tone and character – that needed to have some fidelity in order to pull it off, and for the most part s1 did that bc it was still working predominantly within the bounds of the novel & its core ideas. while i did have some issues w how neilman & amazon adapted some details and characterisations, i generally rly liked s1 – it reminded me of why i loved the book and it was just generally fun to watch.

s2 was. not that fun to watch

a few positives before i go ham w the critiques:

the hair & makeup + costumes were fantastic (although i feel like s1 was slightly better re: makeup?)

the sound design & score made some of the more awkward scenes bearable and thats no mean feat imo

david & michael gave incredible performances w what they were given – michael especially managed to salvage aziraphale enough that his complete 180 didnt feel completely tonally dissonant (more on this later)

the detail of the sets is NUTS and i genuinely want to see more of hell bc of how intricate and fun the props look

i actually like gabriel/beelzebub!! their getting together montage worked for me, although they could have spent sliiiightly more time establishing what it is they like abt each other so much + why gabriel wanted to stop armageddon 2.0 so suddenly

the opening scene, although not on par w the novel's & s1's, was visually gorgeous and thematically resonant (although neilman owes me royalties for ripping it off from this shitty fic i wrote back when raphael!crowley was all the rage lol)

now w THAT being said:

like i said yesterday, the pacing was fucking awful. flashbacks are hard to work w at the best of times and the way they were used in this season felt so needless, especially the 40s one in ep 4 that takes up like 90% of the episode. in both flashbacks + present day there were scenes that dragged for no real reason, dialogue that looped back around on itself to stretch out the runtime, and weirdly enough places where there should have been character & plot work where there just,, wasn't any?? for example, maggie & nina's night locked in the café – some parts of the dialogue in later episodes made out that they'd had some rly deep conversation abt how they feel about each other or even that they'd had an affair, but that isn't clear from those scenes in the café. i'm not saying we had to see that conversation in its entirety but that there needed to be more connective details – either in dialogue or direction – that gave that part of the story coherence.

(there were pacing issues w the editing too but i don't want to jump down the editor's throats on this one bc im more focused on writing & direction issues)

the second major problem that i mentioned in my tags yesterday is the protagonist shift, which is an issue that started in s1. aziraphale & crowley are side characters in book gomens – significant ones, yeah, but still somewhat peripheral to adam (& anathema who counts as a deuteragonist imo). this works incredibly well w who they are as characters: they're Just Some Guys who happen to be involved in this epic biblical-level bureaucratic nightmare and importantly, they don't want to be in the spotlight. the arrangement was created so that they could explore what it meant to be themselves away from the Big Narrative; literally any time they get involved in larger affairs is bc the plot is alive and caught them unionising on company time. the last fucking chapter is adam (& god) being like haha u guys are alright keep it sleezy and letting them go. like. hello. neil u let them go.

but then!! tv gomens s1 does something interesting at the end w the body swapping addition that i dont totally hate – it gives aziraphale & crowley the extra bit of character work that brings them slightly more adjacent to their book selves. see i kinda view tv a/c as the younger, less settled versions of book a/c; they're still caught up in the immediacy of being key players and haven't fully realised that earth is their home. i haven't watched s1 in a while but one scene i remember rly clearly is crowley throwing all those astronomy texts in the air and angsting abt when he was an angel; i remember it bc his anguish in that scene feels a lot newer and rawer than book crowley's feelings about falling. when tv a/c do their bodyswap, it gives them the chance to land a blow against heaven/hell in a way that solidifies their allegiance to earth in a way that more closely resembles what book a/c have been abt the entire time (still adjacent, though. not parallel).

the reason why this works is that it does one final pivot to orient aziraphale and crowley as almost-main characters in a manner that makes sense in relation to a) their book selves and b) the position the tv show has placed them in. a combination of factors made tv a/c feel a lot less mature than their book counterparts but at the end of s1 they're sort of facing the same direction the book ended in, albeit through their own flashy late 2010s means.

when s2 was announced i was.......apprehensive bc to me, that felt like a satisfactory ending. i get the impression that amazon saw how wildly successful the adaptation was and was like oh shit we could make way more money out of this and neilman, having all those undead darlings that he and terry killed in the process of whittling the book into a workable novel, jumped at the chance to resurrect all those half-realised ideas. but not only were those ideas probably discarded for a reason, they've either been laying in wait for years unworked or they're new inventions, which means they weren't molded in the way that the book had been. like i said before, book gomens underwent years of rewrites and creative collaboration, and i think that process was what made it so good; s2 didn't have that. even if some of terry's ideas made it into s2, his influence is still missing bc he and neilman weren't in dialogue the same way they were in the book (and in some ways s1 bc i know terry was involved in the process of adapting gomens to screen before his death).

i don't think it's a case of newer fans forgetting terry so much as it is the context of terry's involvement being so removed from the current circumstances that certain aspects & discourses (i.e. is the s2 finale queerbaiting (no), does binge watching change the viewership experience (yes), etc etc) about the show overshadow other discussions that would usually be taking place. and before anyone says it's a case of neilman forgetting terry, i definitely don't think it's that either bc thats. yknow. wildly disrespectful. but also there are larger systems and structures at play than one writer no matter how much beef i have w him and his decisions, bc ultimately he's just one guy (a powerful and wealthy guy, but just a guy) and there's a wider cultural shift happening rn towards rehashing old stories without understanding what made them successful in the first place, and that same culture just doesn't allow for much, if any, constructive discourse analysis

so yeah

#replies.txt #Anonymous #god this is so long and rambling i hope it makes sense lmaooo #i have further thoughts on the general fic-y feeling of the season but that wasnt rly anon's question so i'll save that for another time #good omens #good omens spoilers

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alittlebitofloveliness · 1 month

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5, 14, 15, 17

More outsiders asks? Heck yeah!

5. What are your favourite ships?

a) Curly Shepard x Ponyboy Curtis- idk why other than the fact that fanon Curly seems to balance out Ponyboy perfectly, and that I read a Curly fit on ffn when I was like fifteen that fundamentally changed my brain chemistry

b) Steve Randle x Sodapop Curtis- I don’t like any other within gang ship but Soda and Steve make sense to me and ngl my closeted ass clocked them as gay when I was reading the book because of the ‘pillow fight’ scene. I genuinely answered a comprehension question in class like ‘Ponyboy’s naïveté is shown through the fact he believes soda never drinks and that Soda and Steve were having a pillow fight when they slept together’ and my teacher had to be like oh sweetie no….

c) Marcia x Two-bit Matthews- Not a HUGE fan but they had such chemistry and I wish that could’ve been explored. I’m actually working on a fit about them rn, just because I wanna explore Marcia’s psyche. She was fun :)

14. Five headcanons I basically see as canon

a) Steve is secretly SUPER protective of Ponyboy, partially because he knows Sodapop would never be ok if something ever happened to Pony and he couldn’t stand it if Soda’s spark ever went out, but also because he wants Ponyboy to have the happy childhood he never had.

b) Darry absolutely dotes on Ponyboy, even though he’s strict, he’s lenient about letting Pony go places and works overtime to make sure he can afford to get Ponyboy everything he needs (and some stuff he simply wants), especially after Windrixville.

c) Johnny Cade is scary looking. Full stop. The gang just doesn’t see him that way so it doesn’t show in Ponyboy’s narration

d) Dallas Winston had a good mom and a happy childhood and her death was the catalyst that made him into the hoodlum he was.

e) Sodapop Curtis absolutely drinks, Ponyboy just doesn’t believe he does and Soda is not anxious to correct him because he doesn’t want Ponyboy to see him differently

15. Five headcanons that are entirely self-indulgent

a) Angela Shepard and Curly Shepard have to share a room because Tim refuses to share with anyone. Neither of them actually hates it half as much as they pretend they do.

b) Part of why Curly and Ponyboy became close was because Ponyboy was struggling with getting over his concussion, and the side effects were really stressful for him (dizzy spells, blurry vision, absentmindedness) and Curly kinda helped him with it because Curly spent 90% of his childhood concussed so he knew what Pony was going through

c) Tim Shepard and Sylvia are best friends and would kill for each other but not die for each other. However, they would avenge each other’s deaths.

d) Steve Randle wishes more than anything in the world that Darry Curtis was actually his irl older brother

e) Two-bit’s little sister HATES Ponyboy Curtis because her older brother spends more time playing older brother to him than he spends actually being an older brother to her.

17. Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the book?

My criticisms with the book lie with the author. SE Hinton has proven to be homophobic and racist, and its written into the book, which is my biggest issue. I love the story of The Outsiders but do not want to support Hinton or her harmful, bigoted ideology under any circumstances. (For anyone out there who wants a copy of the book but doesn’t want to support Hinton, you can find a free pdf online, all you gotta do is google it)

On a slightly lighter note, I would have loved to have seen more of the female characters in the book. Marcia in particular had so much potential, and I wish we’d seen one actual scene with Sandy or Sylvia.

Thanks for the ask!!!!!

#the outsiders #angela shepard #curly shepard #tim shepard #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #headcanon #two bit mathews #marcia the outsiders #marcia x two bit #purly #steve randle #stevepop

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strawhatsoraya · 11 months

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Hiii! So, we've been talking about Shuuhei… what about a little scenario with a female soul reaper who's from another division but has had her eyes on him for a while because, well, he's HOT. Maybe she even already realized that his bad boy look isn't really true because in some small interaction he was super nice and polite? Or perhaps she's still convinced he's a total womanizer/bad boy based of his looks and kept her distance? Either way, one evening, she gets nice and tipsy (with Rangiku?? Or somebody else?) and goes all "You know what? Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. He's so underappreciated! Fuck it, I'll go for it." So she tries her very best to seduce Shuuhei and is a) surprised he's so gentle and soft-spoken and b) flusters him completely? :D Or something along those lines.

Random scenario-thought, in case it strikes a cord, I'd love to read your version of it :D Have a great day!

how long has it been??? don't answer, this question is rhetorical I don't even wanna know. i wrote some shuhei uh fluff? yes...fluff with some suggestive content but nothing explicit. you get drunk y/n making a fool of herself and shuhei being cute.

SHUHEI HISAGI X FEM READER / SFW WC: 2.7k CW: alcohol consumption, horrible attempts at humor and seduction, second hand embarrassment, badly timed boners, and equally badly timed confessions

You didn't know what it was about him that made you so crazy.

Rather, the truth was, you couldn't decide on a single thing. Maybe it was that dark bold stripe across his face. The same that made you stare at his profile, that squinted intense gaze that rooted you to your spot wherever you were. Maybe it was the numbered tattoo on the angular bone of his cheek. Maybe it was the mystery of not knowing what any of it meant.

Or maybe, just maybe, you liked that you couldn't figure him out. You liked the danger that came with the unknown, the quiet variables that leave your formula incomplete day after day.

Although you had yet to see him entangled in somebody else's arms you were convinced he was as emotionally unavailable as the rest of the men clad in black. Tomorrow was a flimsy promise that nobody dared to even touch but you tacked it on the front of your shinigami robes, like a stupid participation ribbon.

Tomorrow you'd take the first step. Tomorrow you'd confess. Tomorrow, always tomorrow.

Those days came and went, and you were nowhere closer to unraveling the secrets Shuhei Hisagi kept. Tired of your cowardice, and tired from that day's training, you find yourself commiserating over drinks with Rangiku. Her tolerance for alcohol was beyond measure. It was a terrible idea to pair up with her, but she was always willing to lend an ear or two.

Right now, you didn’t want logic or common sense. Right now, you need someone to make you feel a tiny bit better about your cowardice.

Rangiku does it well. She makes sympathetic noises, as she fills your sake cup repeatedly. It is quite a skill, you think to yourself amongst the clouds, the way she never lets your cup be dry. Not even for a minute. You’re gathered with members of different squads for one of Rangiku’s badly coordinated mixers. The numbers between female and male guests was never even–assuming people even showed up in the first place.

“Is it really my fault?” you start feeling indignant. In the back of your mind you know you have no right. You were not the victim of the cruelty of the Fates, or unchangeable circumstances. The truth was, you were merely scared of rejection. “Is IT my fault?” You ask again, as Rangiku sways slightly next to you, a tiny smile on her lips.

She looks content with her lot in life at the moment, and your indignation is slowly replaced by green envy.

“You just don’t understand do you?” you ask her as your head bobs. The movement is mostly involuntary but you find yourself too tired to control it. The alcohol has steeped itself in your veins, and you know now would be the time to cut yourself off. Instead, you bring the cup of sake that Rangiku just refilled to your lips once more.

“I do understand, actually,” Rangiku insists, gathering your shoulders in an one armed embrace. “I do. Men are so DENSE. In fact, like that one,” she slurs as she points her chin towards the familiar pallid appearance of one Izuru Kira. “Look at him!”

Her voice is loud, and the scent of sake is sweet coming from her moistened lips. You look away to watch Kira perk up in his seat. His cheeks are pink, a bright contrast against his pallid skin. The stupefied expression on his face is slightly endearing. Perhaps you had too much sake after all.

“You see him?!” Rangiku prattles on, steamrolling over the din of stranger’s conversations. You sway in tandem with her, still trapped in her arm. Her strength was not completely unknown to you but there was something about drunk Rangiku that made her at least three times stronger. “Look at him! So dense. So stupid. So cute.”

You smile apologetically at Kira. It almost feels like the sudden verbal attack was incited by your poor inability to be honest with your feelings. There’s an attempt to free yourself from Rangiku as you press a hand on her chest and push. Rangiku squeals in your ear and lets you go, only to bring her hands to her chest. Her smile is crooked, and she flutters her eyelashes at you.

You swallow a groan.

“Have you moved on to me already?” she asks you in a shouted whisper. You glance sideways at Kira waiting to be saved but he avoids your gaze and instead greets the new arrival to the table.

The last person you expected joins your table. At the sight of the stripe across one of his cheeks you feel your blood turn to ice. A chill passes over you, making you shiver where you sat. You almost wished Rangiku would twist herself around you once more. Anything to return the heat back to your body and away from your sweltering face. You can’t see it, but you feel it–the flush that ridicules you; burning your shame on your cheeks until you fear it’ll become a permanent tattoo.

Shuhei Hisagi, as usual, seems ignorant to your struggle. Aside from a casual glance and nod of acknowledgement he gives no indication of knowing your discomfort. The sake threatens to come back up, and you swallow. The acid burns your throat on the way back down.

“Well,” Rangiku’s voice comes in like artificial sweetener–it overcompensates and leaves a terrible aftertaste in the back of your mouth. “Look at what the dog dragged in.”

“It’s cat,” you interject with a quick sideways glance. Rangiku places her arm on your shoulder.

“Whatever.” The blond woman is unfazed. She smiles at Shuhei. “The point is, the man of the hour is here.”

You feel your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. If possible, you could have feared it slipping right out of your body. You wouldn’t doubt for a second that if it could preserve itself by abandoning the vessel of your pathetic body that it would. Instead, you feel it speed up again, at an alarming rate. It pounds frantically against your ribcage as Shuhei turns his slanted gaze at you.

“You were waiting for me?” he asks. He is looking at you. You know this because you’re staring right back at him, slack-jawed and in a daze. Yet, it feels as if his question was aimed at Rangiku instead.

“Of course!” she chirps, leaning forward. You glance down and see her breasts threatening to spill out of her uniform. Clumsily, and quickly, you try to gather the fabric and bring it to a close across her cleavage. Rangiku glances down at you, perturbed, at your clenched hands keeping the opening together. Gently, she pats your whitening knuckles. “Now, now…” You don’t let go so she pries your fingers off before continuing the conversation. “I was waiting for you because I need you to take Y/N to her room for me.”

You blink, and sway on the spot, suddenly lightheaded. You have no idea what Rangiku is planning and you consider losing yourself in a temporary moment of dread. That is, until you realize the wonderful opportunity that is being presented to you. Here was Shuhei Hisagi in all his hardened edges, cool demeanor glory. If you could have a moment alone, with your cowardice drowned in alcohol, perhaps you’d find the courage to make a move.

You stand up suddenly, slamming your hands on the table. Kira jumps startled but Shuhei remains calm. He follows suit, and you watch him stand up, taking in his height, his broad shoulders, his imposing gaze. He nods his head at you and gestures quickly.

“Come on then,” he mumbles as he turns his head quickly. You try to find the strength in your jelly legs to walk around the table. So focused in your efforts to remain upright, you almost miss the pink on the top of his ears. His hand is covering half his face when you reach him. The way he chose to wear his uniform was unique. Some might say he barely had it on. As you walk besides him, you notice a rosy flush on the top of his cheeks.

“Are you cold?” you ask him, placing light fingers on his bicep. Before you can register the difference in your body temperatures he’s jerking away, startling you. You never thought you could be criticized for lack of coordination, but inebriated you became a person you didn’t quite know.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles as he turns his face away from you.

The sake must be really doing its toll on you, because if you didn’t know any better, you’d start to believe that Shuhei was being shy. It didn’t suit him. There was such a large gap in his appearance that it just couldn’t possibly make sense but still his ears grew redder and redder, especially when you decide to tuck your hand in the crook of his arm.

You feel him jump even as he tries to keep walking, your fingertips gently brushing the inside of his elbow. He starts to say something, stuttering over his words.

“C-c-careful,” he says, his eyes on the ground. There’s a furious flush on his face, threatening to obfuscate the tattoos on his face. “The ground is lumpy.”

You can’t help it. Even as you bite down on your lower lip, there’s a giggle that bubbles out of you–free and weightless.

“I’m holding on to you,” you tell him, leaning into him playfully. He sways as you bump him. “I think I’ll be fine.”

It becomes quickly apparent to you that your miracle opportunity could very well lead to nowhere if you don’t take it further. You’ve managed to press your breasts against his arm, in hopes of stirring something wild and untamed inside of him. Instead, he starts to walk stiffly as if he had a metal rod placed in his back. Although you begin to feel more sober, you decide to amp up the theatrics a little, stumbling here and there in your walk.

“Shuhei~” you chirp coyly, syrupy and addictive. “Why don’t you come inside?” you tug him along, struggling with his big frame. If Shuhei is surprised at your strength he doesn’t show it much, except for a careful raise of his eyebrows.

“I really shouldn’t be going into a woman’s room like this,” he mumbles as you finally shove the rest of his big body inside. Shuhei looks around the small room quietly. There’s a futon on the floor in a corner, books littered here and there and wrappers of snacks you promised you’d get rid of weeks ago.

“Nonsense. That’s way too old fashioned thinking,” you tell him, lowering yourself to the futon. You wave a hand at him repeatedly. Shuhei stares at it apprehensively—like the fluttering wings of a death butterfly, but still heeds its call. He lowers himself awkwardly onto the futon and sits cross legged next to you. His skin feels as if it was tinling, your presence making it worse every time you pressed yourself against him.

You slither one hand over his knee, and Shuhei feels the back of his neck heat up. Your breath tickles his ear when you speak next: “Shall I help you relax? You seem tense. I’m very good at massages.”

He stiffens at your touch. Shuhei knows your touch means more than it implies. He knows that your soft smile is promising him more than just a massage. He also knows that the rouge on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes is due to alcohol; that which you consumed a little too much. He knows that to let you keep skimming your hand upwards his leg, as you are doing now, is very ungentlemanly of him.

He presses his shaky hand over yours.

“I’m fine,” he says sternly, lips drawn thinly on his face. “I don’t need a massage right now.” What he needed, perhaps, was to swan dive into a cold lake. His nether regions weren’t getting the picture. He felt himself stiffen, and Shuhei adjusted his legs as discreetly as possible. He didn’t count on your keen observational skills, and your lack of decorum all at once.

“Then what’s that!” you whisper shout, pointing at the sudden rise of cloth between his legs. Shuhei stutters as he feels heat swallow his head whole.

“Never mind that,” he shakes his head, feeling embarrassed and angry to be in this situation with you. “Just go to sleep. That’s what you should do.” He holds you by the shoulders, as you try to peek around his arms. He pushes you back on the bed, as you hold on to his wrists, dragging him down with you. Shuhei, holds his weight up by slamming his hands on either side of your head against the bed. You look up at him, startled, heart racing in your chest.

“Are you going to sleep with me?” you ask him, your fingers still curled around his wrist. “Is this what this is?”

“No!” he shouts, turning bright red. He pushes off of you. “That was an accident because you pulled me down with you.”

“I was hoping to seduce you,” you tell him plainly. Now that you were on your back, you rethink your entire plan. You thought you had sobered up but as the room started to spin slowly, you realized quickly that it had been some kind of delusion.

“I’m not someone that will just sleep with a drunk woman,” he mumbles, gathering the blankets and pulling them over your body. He tucks you into them, pushing the blankets deep under your body with his fingers, until you become a human burrito. “So please stop.”

“So, you’d sleep with any woman if she wasn’t drunk?”

“No,” he pats your hands which he trapped under the blanket. “I didn’t say that either.”

“I like you,” you confess. You meant to look and feel braver than you did, but being wrapped in blankets unable to move as the room spun slightly, seemed to have stolen all your earlier bravado. Shuhei stares at you silently, before he looks away abruptly. You can see his ears reddened again as he loosens up the blankets slightly.

“I tucked you in too tight,” he mumbles, ignoring your confession.

“I said I like you!” you state a little louder, and bite your lower lip. “Shouldn’t you say something back? Anything?”

Shuhei sighs, and finds your hand under the blankets. He lightly traces the shapes of your fingers, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“You should say that when you’re sober,” he mumbles softly, finally looking back at you. “Do that, and I’ll give you a proper answer.”

There’s a pout that sticks your bottom lip out. Shuhei stares at it for a bit too long, and feels the back of his neck catch fire. He sighs heavily as he pushes himself up.

“Go to sleep,” he says gently, even as your eyes start to flutter closer.

He looked shy and awkward as he stood there undecided. His feet shuffled, as he wanted to leave but was torn. You stifle a giggle. He was nothing like you had imagined. Not very cool, and not very smooth. You’d be lying; however, if you didn’t like this gentle part of him.

“What if I don’t remember?” You ask him quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

“What if I don’t remember,” you repeat yourself. “What if I forget I’m supposed to tell you I like you?”

Shuhei rubs the back of his neck, and you see his cheeks color. Your fingers twitch under the blankets. You want to trace the splotches on his cheeks, feel their heat under your fingertips.

“Then I’ll remind you,” he mumbles shyly, eyes downcast and fluttering from corner to corner of the room; anywhere and everywhere but on your face. “I’ll just have to remind you until you do.”

There’s a heavy silence that falls between you; thick and flammable. A simple spark could cause it to ignite. You hold your breath in anticipation

“Now, seriously, go to sleep!” he nags, stomping towards the exit. “And drink water when you wake up. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He leaves you there, tucked warmly under the blankets. The room spins slowly, so you shut your eyes to stave off the dizziness. A groan floods your mouth, and you swallow saliva that pools on your tongue. When you’d wake in the morning, you know you’d be full of regrets. You’d regret drinking so much, and regret making a fool of yourself.

That is, if you even remembered that last part.

#shuhei x reader #shuhei x you #shuhei x y/n #bleach x reader #bleach x you #bleach x y/n #shuhei hisagi fluff #shuhei hisagi x reader #shuhei hisagi x you #shuhei hisagi x y/n #fic request #shuuhei x reader #shuuhei x you #shuuhei x y/n #shuuhei hisagi x reader #shuuhei hisagi x you #shuuhei hisagi x y/n

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wishing-stones · 5 months

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ahdifejbd you know I always get so stressed sending requests for meme things cause I’m always 10000000000% convinced that I’m going to be the 38th jerk to ask the exact same thing SO I am sending two letters that I think would be interesting ONLY because I am giving you the option to Choose One - NOT because I am asking you to write both!

I think Dream with B or C could be interesting in different ways!

B. Under cover of darkness. (Sunshine Boi Bein’ Sneaky sounds fun as heck. What kind of circumstances would require for him to do a sneak in the dark?)

C. A moment’s respite. (What do *you* imagine a moment of rest would look like for the guy who’s chronically Duty Bound to literally the whole multiverse?)

Again - pls pick *one* that suits your fancy OR one that hasn’t been picked already if someone else beat me to the punch lol. Happy Turkey Weekend, Friend! And pls take your time over the holiday weekend! Don’t overwork yourself!!!

Hahahaha, I think I'll go with C for him since I did B for Baggs already. Space out my same-prompts some.

I'll pick one later for myself once I've answered the bulk of these

C. A moment’s respite.

He's thankful for his little corner of the multiverse. He owed Ink a lot for helping him claim it and bring it to life.

The little cottage, perpetually bathed in the warm light of golden hour, is the perfect little place for him. He has enough spare rooms to house a few people, and his two best friends have their own spaces as well.

He has his gardens, his orchard, and his small stable with a single cow.

It was nice to be able to have such a comfortable home to return to. One that didn't remind him of his past failures, one that didn't reek of sorrow and death and anger. One where he could enjoy the warmth on his bones and the peace of birdsong and crickets.

As much as he liked to keep busy here by gardening or by general upkeep...

Today he was taking time to lay on one of the golden hills in the soft grass, listening to the wind quietly hush over the blades and petals of wildflowers. He was kicked back with his sockets closed, skirting towards the edge of sleep, completely at ease.

He'd been all but bullied into taking a day off-- no duty to the multiverse, no busywork in the garden-- they would take care of that-- and no worrying about anything. He'd started the day off with a long soak in his favorite bubbles and oils, and followed it up with reading beneath the largest apple tree in his orchard. Now, he was contemplating a nap in the sun, reminded of simpler times when such days of leisure were common.

It was only slightly painful to think about them, and to lack his brother to enjoy such a moment with.

... Perhaps Nightmare was similarly enjoying a day off. Stars knew that he had luxury in spades in his dark, imposing fortress. Grand marble baths, gilded chaises, massive hearths and wine aplenty.

Wine did sound appealing. Maybe he'd break a bottle of blush open later, at dinner.

It was the one thing he'd managed to negotiate with his friends-- he would be the one to make dinner for them all. Ink could create very fine foods from thin air, and Blue... was not as bad as he used to be.. but Dream took a special pleasure in cooking things from scratch. It was as relaxing to him as laying here, beneath the sun was.

He didn't know what time it was, nor did he really care. He could afford not to today.

He was fortunate to have such good friends. Perhaps his brother was similarly fortunate-- he could afford to take a day of leisure with his underlings handling whatever serious issues might crop up.

He hoped.

The one thing that would put the cherry on the top of the day would be the knowledge that Nightmare had similarly taken a day for himself. Perhaps Killer could harass him away from his perpetual mountain of paperwork. Maybe Dust could ensure he took time to relax. Cross could remind him of the many luxuries the castle had to offer, and Axe, naturally, handled all the food.

His phone was on silent today, but he retrieved it momentarily to contact Cross, texting him to maybe, gently, get him to take the day off.

[Cross] Don't worry about it, Killer has it handled. I think he's soaking in that huge spa bath he has right now.

With a content sigh, Dream pocketed his phone and curled up on the plush grass, tipping his circlet partially off of his head and drifting off into a well-earned, completely content nap.

#k answers #k headcanons #fic nonsense #minific asks #feat. dream #and mentioning literally everyone else lmfao I'm not gonna tag them because no one has speaking roles really.

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stevetonyweekly · 10 months

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SteveTony Weekly - June 25

There’s so many fantastic stories to share this week! Check out today’s list and be sure to leave a comment and kudos for your authors!

~*~

For You by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

Tony Stark is one of the earlier adopters of KinkTok, just as he was for Kinstagram, Fetlife, Grindr, and Kinkspace back in the day. It’s practically part of his job, as one of the most high-profile submissives in the country.

Steve pauses as he watches several loops through the same brief clip of Tony just slowly licking his lips and then letting his mouth fall open as he head tips back ever so slightly. #heydaddy #herewaiting the captions read, with a devil emoji.

Duet by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

“I know people assume a lot about me,” Tony concedes. “But… I wouldn’t actually mind something more traditional.”

More KinkTok shenanigans, boys falling in love, and Steve Rogers has a LOT to say to people on the Internet.

way to a father's heart by earliebirb

Steve loves kids, and kids like him. He’s never met one who hadn’t immediately taken a liking to him. He’s good with kids. At least, he thinks he is.

But these are Tony's children, and that fact alone makes all the difference in the world. He needs to make sure that he gets along with them. Otherwise, he can kiss his chance to be with Tony goodbye.

you are all I was hoping for by xWinterDreamsx

His life had been so much emptier without Tony in it, and he missed him. He missed him so much that he felt better being in his company for even a little while.

Once More for the First Time by nostalgicatsea

It was like clockwork. Get together, do a mission, part ways.

Steve wondered what would happen if he asked Tony to stay.

A New Vision of the Future by navaan

Natasha watches Steve and figures out he's watching Tony - a lot. She watches it all become a mess and watches as Steve never stops pining.

Darling, let’s run by derelover

Now, if I were a supersoldier, where would I go?

Tony quickly scanned the doors with his glasses for Steve. He spotted his figure behind the door labeled Margaret Carter, Director.

Of course. Where else would he be? Tony thought wryly.

Momentum by Arukou

He had said “resentment is corrosive.” He had shaken Steve’s hand, had nearly said more. He wanted to say more, but what was left to say? “Resentment is corrosive and I hate it, but I still feel it, and also I feel a lot of things about you and I don’t know how to untangle them all?”

Blue Movie by BewareTheIdes15

Alright, look, confession - Tony has been masturbating to Captain America since he was thirteen.

Relax, Darling by valdomarx

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Breathless by msermesth

Steve can still hear bombs going off; he knows that the fight isn’t over yet. People need him to be Iron Man and instead he’s here, behind the front lines, being pampered by man with eyes that make him shiver.

Or: A Bullet Points AU where Tony was the technician that helped remove Steve from the Iron Man armor during World War II.

I'll always come back (to you) by Betta3x9

Tony remembers every one of his lives.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

When Our Day Comes by thepartyresponsible

“Damn, Rogers,” Tony says, “did Lady Liberty teach you to kiss like that?"

Steve blinks at him. He’s always been distracting. He has always been the kind of beautiful that can break necks when he walks into a room. But this close, the view is downright devastating. Tony’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, red and wet, and he almost forgets how breathing works.

“Well,” Steve says, after a beat, “she is French.”

hold fast by meidui

“What?” Steve asks finally, putting down his pencil and staring right back at Tony.

“Nothing,” Tony says. Then he reaches out and thumbs at the corner of Steve’s mouth, eyes crinkling when Steve’s eyes go very wide. “So serious, you.”

I Tell You That I Think I'm Falling (Back in Love with You) by MayBiTheWay

When Tony said “I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” as he gave the shield back to Steve, not in a million years he’d thought it would actually happen. Yet there it was, right in front of him, ‘the one that got away’ playing with his daughter in the snow, shield by their side dutifully waiting for them to get back on top of it.

Endgame, Not Checkmate by geekymoviemom

“Tony?” Steve asks as Tony immediately taps his screen to life, calling up the specs for what looks like a new set of his nanite armour. “Um… aren’t you going to take it easy for a while?”

Tony frowns at Steve over the top of the screen. “Ah, no? Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because you almost died?” Steve blurts out. “I mean, just yesterday you were—!”

“Yeah, you're right,” Tony cuts in. “But that was yesterday. And since now it’s today, and, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, then I need to get back to working on some stuff.” He shoots Steve a grin, like that somehow makes it okay. “You're welcome to stay and watch if you want.”

Against all odds, the Avengers have beaten Thanos. But when Tony fails to see that victory for what it is, Steve decides the only way to get him to see reason is to confess the secret he’s been harbouring for way too long.

a beast of a burden by meidui

Tony has secret conversations with Steve that even Steve isn’t privy to, even now.

In those secret conversations, he says exactly the right thing to make Steve duck his head and smile, and when he confesses that Steve is the most infuriatingly beautiful thing the universe has ever come up with and he’s been madly in love with him for years, Steve admits he feels the same way.

Then there are the conversations they actually have, which tend to go much worse because Tony is sarcastic and Steve is seething, and it’s a miracle they’re back on speaking terms.

#stevetony #stony #stevetony weekly #stony weekly #stony fic #stony fic rec #fic rec #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america

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ayameric · 2 years

Text

In Your Head | N. Romanoff

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.

Summary: In which Y/N is trapped in her own head, and it’s up to Natasha to get her out.

TW: Schizophrenia, suicidal themes, major character death. Please read with caution. (If I have missed any, please let me know.)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Pathetic.

Worthless.

That’s what you are, did you know that? All of this power, wasted on a useless being. You have no right to be here.

“Y/N, you with us?”

Your head snapped up from the slightly sunken position you had slumped in.

“Y-yeah, sorry, Cap.” You quickly apologised, feeling the heat from everyone around the meeting table stare at you.

Steve carried on speaking, but there was only one voice you could hear.

Voices.

Seemingly from nowhere, but so surreal it felt as though they were talking right beside you.

It was getting hard to tell the difference now.

You were relatively new to the Avengers, only having been at the compound now for a few months.

During a mission, the team found you locked away in a fortified cell of an old Hydra compound. They saw the fragile person in front of them, and took you in immediately.

They were also soon to find out about your powers, the ability to teleport and wield supernatural strength and agility.

You were a great asset to the team, but you didn’t know that.

Natasha looked at you softly from opposite the table as your gaze dropped again, noticing your mind going elsewhere.

Something had been going on ever since you got here, and it wasn’t getting any better.

In fact, she had brought it up to Tony and Bruce, but they figured it was just jitters around being in a new environment. Natasha knew it was something else.

You were jittery, that much was true, but you seemed, off. Despite the fact you had passed all your medical, Bruce had deemed you physically fit and healthy. So what could it be?

The Widow gave it time, just to make sure. Maybe it was just settling in that you were struggling with, and you certainly weren’t the most vocal person, so maybe you just felt a little lonely.

Not wanting to assume the worst, that was the fence she leaned on. But in the back of her mind, she knew that there was something wrong. But maybe, if she built that bridge with you, you’d tell her what was going on.

The team were quite fond of you. Quiet, shy and a little clumsy, but overall very loveable. They wanted you to come out of your shell, but would never force you.

The meeting continued on, and eventually Steve dismissed everyone to go about their business for the day.

Natasha noticed that you practically sprung out of your seat, heading for the door. But she managed to grab your hand just before you could rush off to wherever. (Most likely your room, you spent a lot of time in there.)

“Hey, where you rushing off to?” Nat asked with a small smile, as she loosened her grip on you, dropping your hand.

“My…my room.” You told her, but your voice was quiet. As it usually was.

“Well, me and Wanda were gonna go and watch some TV if you wanted to join?” Natasha asked hopefully, praying you’d say yes. Partially because she knew she’d have Wanda quizzing her on whatever was going on in the show, but mostly because she wanted to spend time with you.

Your face scrunched a little, and your eyes flickered around the hallway, refusing to meet Natasha’s gaze.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, scratching the back of your neck.

“Okay, whatever then you fucking freak.”

Did Natasha really just say that to you?

“L/N?” The redhead called your name softly, a tone so untypical of her that it made you look at her, properly this time.

It was getting so much worse.

“I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, walking off in the direction of your room before the assassin could say anymore.

A few more weeks had passed and yet still, the team had made no progress with you.

Wanda’s invites for cooking, Tony’s offers to come into the lab, nor Sam’s temptation to go for drinks.

Nothing.

You couldn’t. Something inside your brain was holding you back. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to spend time with these people, but your warped version of reality had truly brought you to your knees.

It had always been like this, the talking in your ear when no one was around. The comments, the conversations happening inside your head only for you to hear.

Hydra used to numb you up, drug you until you couldn’t feel.

But now you were free, and those voices came back with a relentless vengeance.

They’ll give up on you. Soon enough. Or they’ll watch you die.

It was late, you were in bed but you couldn’t rest. You hadn’t slept properly in ages. No meds meant the voices were active all hours of the day, leaving you riddled with sleepless nights.

Should’ve stayed in that cell, moron.

They wouldn’t stop. They just wouldn’t stop.

You shut your eyes, feeling hot tears well up behind your eyelids as you held your head in an attempt to shut them up. But it was no use.

That was how you spent your nights. Praying that your own head would stop trying to drive you insane, to the point where you felt so irreversibly uncomfortable in your own skin.

Maybe dying in that cell would’ve been a better fate.

That way, the voices would stop.

Unbeknownst to you, someone else in the compound also had trouble sleeping. Natasha had long since given up trying to rest that evening, her own mind running on overdrive. She wandered to the balcony of her room, staring out into the forest that the building overlooked.

It was a beautiful night.

Nat thought you were beautiful too.

God, she wanted to get through to you so badly. Because she knew that feeling, that solace. She had lived and it was awful, and she didn’t want you to deal with it, not when you didn’t have to. There was a group of people just like you, ready to welcome you into the family with open arms, but you didn’t want it.

That’s what it felt like.

But the Widow knew better. Someone like you, someone who’s been through so much would push people away for fear of trusting the wrong person again.

But she was going to prove to you that she was worthy of your trust, worthy of you.

“Morning, Y/N.” Wanda smiled brightly as you padded into the kitchen.

“Morning.” You offered a weak smile before walking over to the cupboards to grab a glass.

It wasn’t early, around 9AM, but most people in the tower were up well before you.

Wanda saw the bags under your eyes, and it broke her heart.

There was only a few people actually in the kitchen, you, Wanda, Vision, Steve and Tony.

Vision and Tony were wrapped up in a conversation by the floor length windows, whilst Steve was sat at the island eating his cereal, flipping through the newspaper.

Steve paused his movements briefly as you walked in, observing you.

“L/N, you feel like training this afternoon?” He asked you, a bright smile on his face.

You turned to look at him, but you didn’t answer straight away. In fact, you looked at him with almost shock in your eyes, but didn’t let the feeling express visibly on your face.

But just as quickly as the look appeared, it was gone.

“Sure.” You answered him, but your expression was unreadable.

You hurried out of the kitchen after that.

“What was that?” Steve asked aloud, clearly to Wanda who subtly watched the exchange.

“I-I don’t know.” The witch pulled a furrowed brow. “She seems almost…afraid of us.”

Steve really didn’t know what to say. It had been months, surely you weren’t afraid of them? Had they given you any reason to be?

“She hasn’t trained with any of us before, maybe she was nervous?” He asked hopefully, noting that now Tony and Vision had walked over, noticing the tension in the room.

“Talkin’ about Y/N?” Stark asked, and Wanda nodded, and the man sighed.

“We must get through to her. If not for the team, then for her own sake.” Vision surmised, and the others agreed.

“What more can we do?” Tony asked, knowing that it wasn’t for lack of trying.

You had headed to the gym at lunchtime, upon Steve’s request this morning. Having trained on your own over the past few months, you knew you were going to have to train with the others eventually.

So you would grin and bare it.

Entering the room in workout gear, the only person you saw in the room was Natasha. She noticed you, even with your quiet steps.

She turned around immediately, a smile appearing on her face as she saw you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” The woman smiled, and you stayed near the door cautiously.

“Um, Steve- Steve said to come by for training?” You asked, wondering if he was just running late.

“Yeah, he got called out to meet with the US Secretary with Sam, so…” Natasha explained, and you nodded slightly. “But, we could train, if you’d like? I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

Her joke made you smirk slightly, and Natasha’s chest warmed. She didn’t see you smile much, so this was small progress.

You and Natasha begun sparring. You weren’t great with close combat, since you were trained to stick to the shadows.

Natasha was patient with you, calm, helpful.

In truth, the redhead made you nervous. The Black Widow, an infamous assassin. Who wouldn’t be? But of course, you were nervous around everyone, but the redhead more so.

She was so beautiful, a deity sent from above, stood before you. It was safe to say you were harbouring a slight crush.

Especially overhearing conversations about how Natasha is only ever this soft with you.

As far as your sparring had gone, it had kept you distracted. You were focused on vaulting the Widow’s attacks, and with your mind elsewhere, it seemed as though the voices had quietened.

You managed to find a gap in Natasha’s stance as she lunged at you, and you swept her leg, sending her down.

Natasha looked up at you, slightly breathless with a smirk on her face.

“Nice work, Y/N.” She said genuinely, and your heart thumped against your rib cage.

Don’t be ridiculous, how could she ever love you?

You are a hazard. Nothing more than a fucking liability.

Your happiness disappeared quickly, like water down a drain as the voices turned themselves back up.

Natasha stood up, dusting herself off before placing a hand on your shoulder, albeit cautiously.

“Seriously, that was really good.” Natasha looked at you, and in such close proximity, it was hard to avoid her beautiful green eyes. “I’m glad we’ve got you around, y’know?”

You didn’t know. They would never let you believe that.

“Uh, thanks” You managed to spit out, and Natasha’s smile fell at your tone. You had turned your attention to your hands, where you began unwrapping the tape that was around them.

One minute you were okay, the next you weren’t. That’s what Nat noticed.

“Y/N?” The redhead called your name, still unmoving from her position in front of you. You looked up at her, if only briefly. “Is…is everything okay? Like, here, with us and the team.”

The question shouldn’t have caught you off guard considering your behaviour, but yet it still did.

You struggled for an answer, but the voices in your head had plenty for you.

“Mhm.” You managed to nod to her, hoping that she would just let you go.

“You do know I’m a spy, right? I can see right through your bullshit.” Her tone was a little sharper now, and Natasha knew this. She felt bad, but her frustration was getting the better of her.

“I-I’m fine, I swear.” You tried, but the woman folded her arms and even teleporting wouldn’t get you out of this. “Just, getting used to everything.”

You lied. You told her what she wanted to hear.

She doesn’t believe you, they’re never going to trust you.

They’re going to kick you out, leave you for dead.

“Please, Y/N, don’t shut us out. We want to help you, let us do that.” Natasha’s stern tone had faltered, leaving it behind all together. “I know what it’s like to feel alone, but you don’t have to be. Please, let me be there for you.”

You looked at her, sadness in your eyes.

“Okay.” You offered back weakly, your bottom lip wobbling slightly.

Maybe things would be okay. Just maybe.

Things did get better, in fact.

Natasha became relentless in her attempts to hang out with you. She told you that it was mandatory, which made you laugh.

Natasha loved your laugh. It was a rarity, so whenever she heard it, she treasured it. Just like your smile.

But she made it her own personal mission to make you do those things more often.

Weeks passed by, and spending time with Natasha became more frequent. It started with training in the gym, then you would wake up a little earlier to have breakfast with the team, sometimes you would even eat dinner with them instead of option to eat in your room.

Of course, everyone noticed this change, and they all looked to Natasha in amazement.

You had called it a night just after the team finished dinner, since they were all heading to have a movie night in the common area.

“So, Romanoff, how’d you do it?” Tony asked out of nowhere as everyone began settling down to watch the movie Clint had picked out.

“Do what?” She asked half-heartedly, more focused on getting comfy on the couch beside Wanda.

“Y/N. I don’t think she’s ever been more sociable with us until recently. And I’ve got a hunch it’s something to do with you.” He deduced proudly, to which Natasha scoffed.

“A hunch?” She mocked, now finally looking at the billionaire.

“Okay, fine. But you can’t deny she hangs out with you the most out of all of us!” He pointed out, to which everyone agreed. “Which is like, crazy, considering you’re really mean.”

Wanda sent a pillow flying at his head for that comment.

“Have you ever considered maybe I’m just mean to you?” Natasha teased back with a grin on her face, causing some of the boys to holler.

“I am, offended. I put a roof over your head!” Tony defended himself dramatically, making a few of the team sat around the room laugh.

“Mhm, don’t call me for backup the next time your suit rusts up, tin-man.”

Clint shushed them, and the lights were turned off and the movie began to play.

But Natasha couldn’t stop thinking about you. Over the past few weeks, she saw glimpses of you, the real you, begin to show through the cracks. And she’d be damned if she didn’t get to see the real you, because she you’d be incredible.

You smiled a little more, and noticed that the nervous Y/N she first met started to become a more confident, happier person.

Natasha knew herself well. Well enough to know she had accumulated feelings for you. You were attractive to her, not just physically, but emotionally.

You were a nice change of pace, from the large egos (besides Wanda, of course) around the compound. Your quiet demeanour was welcoming to her.

There was a common thing between you, having similar backgrounds and lives but there was something more than that. She just felt, at ease around you for some inexplicable reason.

But for once, she didn’t raise a brow and put up her defences. She wanted to be comfortable around you.

Natasha just wanted to be with you.

You had been with Avengers for a year now, and you were finally cleared for your first real mission.

The team had hoped this moment would’ve come sooner, but your struggle to settle in set you back. But better late than never.

A relatively simple mission, a small Hydra base that was still functioning. You had insider knowledge, alongside Bucky, which would prove useful.

Steve and Natasha were careful to assign you to the mission. Knowing that going back to somewhere like this could potentially be a real detriment to you, they didn’t want to risk you pushing them away again.

But on a cold evening, one where you and Natasha had spent together in your room, watching a movie on her laptop.

You weren’t a fan of large crowds, and you weren’t all there yet to join in on the team’s movie nights. So, Natasha skipped one night and showed up at your door, computer in hand asking if you wanted to watch something with her.

So there you were, laying beside her, a little stiff. Sure, you had touched her before, whether it was her grabbing your hand in passing or sparring in the gym.

But this was different.

During a particularly slow part of the movie, Natasha dared to speak.

“Steve and I are thinking about putting you on for your first mission.” Natasha stated, and you looked at her.

“Yeah?” There was a mix of excitement and shock in your eyes, clearly you weren’t expecting field duty anytime soon.

“Yeah, but, this mission… it’s Hydra.” Nat told you, her tone quiet as to gauge your reaction, knowing it was a touchy subject.

She studied your face as you were thinking, digesting what she said.

“You don’t have to, of course. We think you’re ready, though but we won’t put you at risk, Y/N.” She said softly, but you could only focus on the way she said your name.

You could listen to it forever.

“No…I- I wanna do it. I can help you guys.” You said, your confidence growing as you spoke.

Natasha smiled at your revelation, and you smiled back too.

“I’ll let Steve know.” Nat said, noticing your gaze move back to the movie.

You felt your eye lids getting heavy, since you still weren’t sleeping great and even the voices in your head must’ve grown tired at this point.

Without realising, you had sleepily cuddled against Natasha, snuggled up beside her.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she revelled in that connection with you. It gave her a feeling of warmth and love she would chase to the ends of the earth.

As the movie finished, you were out like a light, and Nat closed the laptop down, ready to leave. But your unconscious grip on her shirt kept her down, allowing her to sleep beside you with a protective arm over your waist during the night.

It was the best either of you had slept in a long time.

Natasha had kept the voices at bay recently. Just being around her provided you a solace like no other. You felt safe, content. No screaming voices in your head, since Natasha had unknowingly blocked them out for you.

But back in current day, you were sat on a quintet clad in a tactical suit, your leg nervously bouncing against the metal floor.

You had been training for months, you were ready for this.

You’re gonna die out there.

Shaking your head, you felt a disturbance beside you. Next thing you know Natasha was sitting beside you and placing a hand on your knee.

“You okay?” She asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I think so.” You sighed, not being able to hide the nervousness in your voice.

Natasha just squeezed your leg lightly.

“It’s gonna be fine. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” She smiled warmly at you.

“Promise?”

The Widow chuckled.

“I promise.” As she kissed you on the cheek, leaving a burning sensation from her touch.

And she kept true to her promise. The jet landed in a forest clearing just a while out from the base, and you happily cut out all the walking by teleporting closer to the base.

Tony and Sam went overhead and scanned the building, checking for number of hostiles.

You and Natasha would be sent through to infiltrate, retrieve data from the control room and get out whilst the rest of the team dealt with the Hydra agents.

Simple enough.

Everything was going to plan, you and Nat had entered through a vent, and were taking out guards in your path.

You were almost at the control room, when Steve called through the comms that a silent alarm had been tripped, and there were guards headed to your location.

He yelled something about coming in for backup, but there was no time as Hydra guards came rushing at you from all angles.

You dove down, practically on top of Nat to protect her from the incoming fire by a nearby wall.

“Get to that control room! I can hold them off!” Natasha exclaimed above the sounds of guns firing.

But you shook your head, frowning.

“I’m not leaving you!” You told her, but Natasha just jabbed you in the shoulder.

“Go, Y/N! That’s an order!” And you relented, using your powers and teleporting off.

You appeared in the room, finding it to be empty as most of the agents had converged on you and Nat.

“Do we have the drive?” Tony asked down communications in your ear. The ear piece was uncomfortable, and now you had to deal with even more voices.

“Got it.” You confirmed, and immediately went back to Nat. You found her, leaning against the wall, having taken out most of the agents.

But then you saw her clutching at her lower right side, blood coating her hands and darkening her suit.

No, no, no!

You could see Natasha had gone pale, but still conscious. But she wouldn’t be for long.

Keeping in cover, you pressed your hand above Nat’s, applying more pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Natasha lazily looked at you as you touched her, becoming dizzier by the second.

“Shit! I- I’m sorry, Natasha. L-let me get you out of here.” You rambled, attempting to pick her up, and noticing the discomfort on her face. “Steve! Nat…Nat‘s been injured.”

You told him with disappointment in your tone, disappointment in yourself.

Never should have left her.

It should be you bleeding out in this hallway.

You squeezed your eyes closed, the talking in your ear becoming too much. You groaned, yanking out your earpiece in an attempt to gain some silence, before bending down and pulling the Widow into your arms bridal style.

Without thinking, you began bolting down the hallway, your powers failing you as you couldn’t concentrate enough to use them.

You heard more soldiers, and gun fire from behind you. It was followed by several sharp, stinging blows to your back. It sent you to stumble, but you stayed on your feet. You were going to get Natasha out Alice, even if it killed you.

The pain in your back only grew, but you would be fine.

You prayed Steve and Bucky had cleared outside of Hydra agents, because you weren’t sure how many more bullets you could take.

Shoulder-barging through the final door, a wave of cold air hit your face as you saw Steve and Bucky rush over to you.

Steve took an unconscious Natasha from your arms, and despite the horrible pain coursing through you, you could only stare on as you watched the person you cared about most in the world get carried away.

You did this to her.

You should never have left her.

This time, you couldn’t shut the voices out. Or you didn’t want to, because they were right.

Hear something enough, and eventually, you’ll begin to believe it. But you saw with your own eyes what a failure you were, and now you knew your head was right.

Natasha woke up feeling rather groggy in the hospital, her eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright lights overhead.

She pushed herself up, noting there were several wires and tubes attached to her.

Aching, and definitely feeling that pain in her side now. She remembered what happened, how you saved her life.

Where were you?

Natasha wanted nothing more right now than to see your face.

But instead she got Steve.

“How are you feeling?” The blonde man asked, and Natasha just smirked.

“Like I’ve got a hole in my side.” She joked, and Steve smirked at her humour. A few beats of silence passed before she asked; “Have you seen Y/N around?”

Steve shook his head.

“She’s been in her room all week.” Steve sighed. “We think she’s blaming herself for what happened to you, but she’s not willing to let any of us in to talk.”

Natasha felt like crying. You were right back at square fucking one. After everything. But this wasn’t your fault, Natasha was okay and you got the intel, the mission was a success.

But you didn’t see it that way.

It had been two days since Natasha was hurt, and you hadn’t left your room once.

The whole team was worried, it sucked to see you push them away again just as you were beginning to open up.

But Natasha wouldn’t let that happen. The next day, she was cleared to be released, and with a slightly cramped walk, she went straight to your room.

Knocking tentatively on the door, she expected no response.

“Y/N? You in there, detka?” The redhead called out, and she heard shuffling behind the door.

Eventually, she felt a wiggle of the doorhandle, and the door open before her.

The team, who were watching from down the corridor had to hold back a shocked gasp. Nat really was your favourite.

“Y-you’re okay?” You asked, and it was clear you had been crying.

Natasha nodded.

“I’m okay. You saved my life after all.” Natasha chuckled, and you just smiled with a trembling lower lip.

“I-I didn’t save you, y-you still got hurt.” You told her, but the other woman shook her head.

“You got me out of there, despite the fact you got shot to hell. Yeah, Steve told me.” Natasha chastised you a little for being reckless. “But you still saved my life.”

You didn’t say anything, just gently wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her in for a hug but being careful of the wound on her side.

“Missed you.” Natasha whispered into your hair.

It was a few moments after that you and Natasha pulled apart.

“Wanna watch a movie?” She asked, and you nodded, allowing her to pull you over to your bed and settle there.

You cuddled into Natasha’s good side, letting her stroke your hair.

“I never said thank you.” Natasha stated suddenly, and you looked at her. “For saving my life. Thank you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to say, but studying the sincere look on her face, your body acted before you could speak.

Leaning forward, you presssed your lips against hers, feeling her hand immediately come up to caress your side.

There was no better feeling than having Natasha completely against you, having her touch you with such care, kiss you like there would be no tomorrow.

It was incredible.

You both pulled away for air, resting your foreheads together as you both got your breath back.

But then Natasha spoke.

“It should’ve been you.”

What?

You pulled away, confused.

“It should’ve been you, you were the one who wasn’t fast enough to get the intel.”

Natasha’s face frowned, and your heart began to break, how could she say this to you?

“Sure, you saved my life, but that was out of guilt. This is your fault. What’s the point in having those powers if you can’t use them?!”

“Nat- I-I-“ You tried, pushing yourself away from her and moving to the edge of the bed.

What was going on? She just told you this wasn’t your fault, and now it was?

You bolted out of the room, almost falling as you did to get away from Natasha, feeling your heart break in your chest.

You skidded to a halt as you ran into Steve and Wanda who were walking and talking down the hall.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, noticing the distraught look on your face.

“I- I don’t know.” You whimpered.

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t be alright after what happened.” Wanda surmised, and then Steve spoke.

“Yeah, especially if it was my fault. You sent that mission to shit, L/N. And you know it’s true, otherwise you wouldn’t have locked yourself away.”

“I told you it was too soon to put her on a mission, she’s a liability, useless.” Wanda spat venomously.

Why were they saying this? Why? Tears pooled in your eyes, and you rushed off in another direction, despite them calling your name.

You had to get out of there, you should’ve known better. Your head was right all along, you didn’t belong here, you were worthless. Certainly not worthy of an Avenger.

Rushing, it felt like the corridors where never ending.

You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate, and collapse against the wall nearby to you.

Everything was closing in, you couldn’t breathe as tears streamed down your cheeks.

I told you so.

You fucked up, now they’ll never trust you.

You’d be better off dead.

No one will want you after this.

“Shut up! Shut up, please!” You practically hit your head in attempt to silence the voices, screaming out.

It felt like a crowd talking all at once, erupting in conversations about your failure, reminding you how worthless you truly are.

You buried your head between your knees, praying that it would all just stop.

You couldn’t hear the sounds of feet rushing toward you, calling your name in terror. You could only feel a cold hand placed on your arm, causing you to jump, pushing Natasha away from you.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelled, anger in your eyes. She had never seen you like this before, you had never reacted to her touch that way and now she felt tainted.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve tried, but you couldn’t answer as you gasped for breath.

“Her mind, it’s…it’s so loud. Like, screaming at her.” Wanda’s eyes glowed as she peered inside your head. Normally, she would never invade your privacy, but this was an emergency.

“How could you say that? Why would you say that to me?!” You looked at Natasha with pain in your eyes.

“Y/N! Say what?!” Natasha exclaimed back in confusion. But you just shook your head, burying it between your knees again.

“My fault. My fault.” You murmured between your knees, and the three in front of you felt awful.

“Wanda, what’s going on?” Natasha’s voice broke the same way her heart did.

“I- it’s like there’s a dozen people in her mind, all talking. Telling her this is her fault.” Wanda explained.

They’re lying to you.

Don’t trust them.

You’re dead to them.

You felt to weak to run, to fight. So when Natasha moved closer to you, crouching down, you couldn’t move away.

“Detka, what’s going inside your head?”

“It’s so loud, they won’t shut up. They never do.” You sobbed, still refusing to look at anyone. “First it’s them, now it’s you. Why- why are you doing this?”

Natasha blinked away her own tears.

“Doing what? What did we say to you?” She asked in genuine interest as she narrowed her eyes.

“You know what you said! You said it wasn’t my fault, then suddenly it was! You said you wished it was me, not you getting hurt. Then Wanda and Steve blamed me, said I was useless.”

Wanda gasped.

“No I didn’t! Y/N, none of us would ever think such horrid things, let alone say them.” The witch told you, also now crouching down to talk to you. “It’s all in your head.”

“But why can’t I tell the difference?” You trembled, your temples aching after crying so much.

“We can get Bruce to get you medication. It’ll shut those voices in your head up, I promise.”

Natasha had never broken a promise before, why would she now?

Because it’s a fucking trick! They were just blaming you for nearly letting her die, now they want you to take their drugs?! This is Hydra all over again.

This is how Hydra took you as a child.

They lured you in with kindness and promises of love.

Then they made you a monster.

You weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

You thought you were really falling for Natasha, but, as much your heart yearned for her, your mind was louder.

In another life, perhaps you would’ve loved the woman the way you truly wanted to.

You remember Nat and Wanda taking you to the MedBay, and letting Bruce prescribe you with some medication.

But you didn’t swallow it, merely slipping it up your sleeve. They gave you sleeping pills too, considering your restless nights, but you refused to take them too out of fear.

Natasha slept with you in your room now, always holding you close, keeping you warm.

But you couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake anymore. And that was something you didn’t know if you could live with. One night, you carefully removed yourself from Nat’s embrace, and padded over to the bathroom.

The bright light flickered on, and you looked at the mirrored cabinet, showing your reflection as you leaned against the sink.

You shook your head, and opened the cabinet to pull out two little baggies of pills. The olanzapine and sleeping pills you had been prescribed, that you had pretended to take and saved up.

It felt like you were in the matrix as you stared down at the two different bags of pills in your hands. One to stay in wonderland, and one to make all the pain go away.

We’ll never go away.

You can’t ever get rid of us.

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know.” You whispered, taking the baggie of pills and swallowing them with a gulp of water, before returning back to your position in Nat’s arms.

She hummed as she felt your presence again, kissing the back of your neck.

It was bright outside this morning, sunny and warm.

Natasha sat up, noticing your sleeping form beside her.

“Seems like a nice day, gonna have to get up sometime, Y/N.” Natasha teased as she poked your back, expecting a grumble of defiance in response.

But you didn’t move.

“Y/N?”

Message me to join my taglist!

Taglist: @sayah13 @when-wolves-howl @diaryoflife @iliketozoneout @ageofolsen @nothingisrealanyway @wandaszn

#marvel #fxf #mcu #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fanfic

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internetmisfitsworld · 8 months

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I know Call of Duty Mobile comics are not canon (at least to my knowledge), but it's nice to see some crumbs of Makarov contents. Most importantly, there's a hint of "Makarov being a girl dad" moments in the comic that had me screaming.

We get to see more of his personality, though some of it were a bit OOC to me. But most of the time, they got him right. More russian quips and all, something we don't see much back in MW2 and MW3.

His sassy bitchy side. We got glimpse of that back in MW2 and MW3 but in the comics? Deadass he's such a sassy little shit, that at some point I couldn't even be mad at him 😂 .

We also get to see him sort of, kind of, but not really, have this odd sometimes wholesome, mostly questionable, father-daughter vibe with Sophia Couteau. This bit was probably that caught me off guard the most, mostly because we know him as this cold heartless bastard that he is. It was mentioned that he took her in as his protege after her father died. She became part of his crew along with another character Wraith. Funny enough, Sophia even slightly defend Makarov against Dame (her mother) here.

"I know how much you long for big strong parental figure to make things right for you"

"Big Daddy Vladimir" (The way I cackled when I read this line agagahhaha we get it Dame ✋️✋️✋️Makarov is big and strong lmaooo she so real for that)

"As much my mother as Makarov is" (Confirmed. Makarov is mother 💅🏻)

Anyway, back on the topic.

Interestingly, Sophia's father, Edouard "Templar", once tried to kill Makarov. Sooo, you can see why I label Sophia and Makarov father daughter vibe as "questionable", since well... it's Makarov we're talking here. Trusting Makarov is a deathwish.

So, what was Makarov's intention of taking Sophia, whose father tried to kill him, under his care?

Personally, I believe there's a thin line between genuine care and using her for his own cause. I do believe he initially took her in to use her for his personal agenda. But overtime, he grew to care for her a little bit. Maybe he sees himself in her, reminding him back in his days when Zakhaev took him in (different circumstances but still there's similarities). But of course, I don't believe his growing care for her diminished any thought of using her as a pawn for him to use. But damn it he did had me thinking that he genuinely, truly cared for her.

Another thought I had is that, he might took her in because he sees it as some kind of twisted way to get back at Edouard? Maybe he thought; "You tried to kill me? Imma steal yo kid and be a better dad than you then lmfaoo *runs away with adoption paper in his hand*"

But not really though. Considering at the time, Edouard was considered dead (turns out to be alive sometimes later though agaaag this comic really kills me because anyone can never be truly dead). So, him doing this in the name of "getting revenge" on Edouard, is pointless. Unless of course, he's always known Edouard is alive the whole time.

Yeah all in all, it was really a treat to see Makarov being nice and affectionate with someone. A treat and kinda astounding sight too. Especially since we know what he's like in the game agagaa. Like yeah we know who he is and what he is, we know if push comes to shove, he will probably betray Sophia in a heartbeat. But still, it's heartwarming to see their interaction.

Makarov Parenting 101: Gives manipulation tactics advice

Makarov Parenting 101: Be the first to cover your kid's back. Also, keep your kid's close.

Makarov Parenting 101: Teach your kid your language

(FYI Sophia is French. And yeah I know that it doesn't really mean anything considering that a) it's a pretty simple and common phrase so maybe she doesn't really know russian and only knows a couple of phrase or b) maybe she learned the language herself. But still, it's fun to consider that maybe she pick it up from Makarov. Bet she learned a few curse words as well 🤣 Mak disapproves at first but overtime he finds it amusing and snickers whenever she said it)

Makarov Parenting 101: Gives reassurance to your kid (even if you have to lie)

Yeah I'm on the fence on this one, because as much as I want to believe it, part of me have a feeling that he had that family killed. Also,

"I'm not a monster" The audacity of his ass to say this line lol 💀

Bonus:

It's a funny sight to see him helping someone up. Because we know what happened the last time he did that (rip allen you should've never take that hand). Also, he didn't have to help her up. She's more than capable to do that. Not just Wraith but Sophia too. But here he is giving his hand to them. Notice that Sophia was ahead of them, so I'm gonna assume Mak went up first then wait out to help Sophia up the roof then help Wraith. "He really said "I might be a mass murdering psychopathic terrorist but at least I'm a gentleman 👍"

Also another Makarov Parenting 101: Always help your kid up first in high altitude situation.

So yeah. In the comic, they seem to tone him down a little. Shows his light and sometimes dark, humorous side (a nice change though I'm not complaining). A little flirty too ("never darling" "Freya my dear").

"Never, darling" (SWOON GAGAHAHAGA)

#vladimir makarov #call of duty vladimir makarov #call of duty makarov #modern warfare makarov #mw makarov #cod makarov #call of duty sophia couteau #call of duty wraith #call of duty freya helvig #call of duty dame #call of duty cecilia perrin #call of duty edouard couteau #call of duty templar #call of duty mobile

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asimplearchivist · 8 months

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𝑪𝑯. 𝑽 — 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑳𝒀 𝑬𝑨𝑻.

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🕷️ ⤏ miguel is forced to have a heart-to-heart. pairing 🕷️ miguel o’hara/spider!reader word count 🕷️ 4.5k a/n 🕷️ [gif credit] ⤏ sorry this chapter is a day late, i started back to college today and i managed to finish this by avoiding a mental breakdown bc who doesn't love getting overwhelmed by the workload right off the bat? maybe this one being a little longer will smooth things over. ⤏ this chapter was supposed to be in reader’s pov with a totally different scenario in mind, but I’ll probably use that idea for another chap instead bc I ran out time getting ready for this week and already had some of this written beforehand. I’ll probably require a little more patience with updates going into this semester, but I’m going to try to keep them weekly unless the workload proves too much for my mushy little brain to handle! ⤏ and to anyone else starting back up to school, good luck and remember to take care of yourselves! you’re all beautiful and I love you for taking the time to read my silly little fics. :) ⤏ this one does get a little heavy, y’all—please mind the content warnings listed on this fic’s masterpost, linked below. wounds have to be cleaned before they can heal. 🕷️ MASTERPOST 🕷️ 🕷️ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ 🕷️ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER [TBA] 🕷️

You were different. You looked different.

Despite your near-identical physical and facial features and expressions, the nervous flutter of your hands you always hastily stuffed into your pockets to hide them from sight, the faded denim bomber jacket with embroidered patches hand-sewn along the shoulders and threading at the cuffs that you refused to remove even though HQ stayed a steady seventy degrees and required no such outerwear (and over your thermally regulated UMF suit, no less)—among the countless other details he had compared and filed away into the back of his mind to avoid thinking about them all for too long—you weren’t his esposa.

Miguel had to get that through his head right now. He’d already made that mistake once.

As Jess had predicted, you fit seamlessly into the Spider Society. You got along with all of the main task squad, including Peter B. (as much as that fact irked Miguel to no end), and even the most stoic of the Spider-People with whom you interacted in passing.

You were such a fucking ray of sunshine, friendly to a fault, never failing to have them all smiling by the end of your conversations, no matter how short. You had won nearly the entire collective over with your baked goods—it became routine within a week for you to bring in whatever you failed to sell by the end of the day, and within fifteen minutes the supply was always depleted on a first-come, first-serve basis. Multiple scuffles had already broken out over the delicacies, and Miguel had exasperatedly requested that LYLA put up a waitlist tablet in the cafeteria that they could queue themselves and you could update to avoid future conflicts.

He was finally able to apologize to the AI. After Peter B. had taken you on the tour, she’d emerged in a flicker looking slightly less displeased now that he’d smoothed over his mistake. Once he admitted that he shouldn’t have kept anything from Jess and or snapped at either of them, regardless of the circumstances, she’d perked right back up to normal and had resumed her chirpy, irreverent demeanor. (Much to his chagrin.)

It was good, because LYLA could hold a grudge unlike anyone whom Miguel had ever met. (Maybe that was his fault, to an extent.)

Despite the somewhat rocky start to your recruitment and the argument you and he had shared, you made it a point to visit Miguel when you did make your deliveries no matter what. You tried to start small-talk the first few times, but either he was too invested in his analyses—zoned in to the point that even his hyperactive senses blocked out any other stimuli—or he couldn’t muster the emotional fortitude to formulate proper responses from hearing your voice again after particularly bad nights, so most of the time you entered silently, left him your humble offerings (always his favorites), and departed without a word. He stayed on a strict diet to maintain his mass and bulk, and consuming that much sugar that regularly would inevitably ruin him, but…it always smelled so good, tasted even better, and he would be halfway done eating them when he would realize that his resolve had cracked. (Again.)

Miguel was uncertain of your motivations. He hadn’t exactly reciprocated any of your amicability—had barely spoken ten words to you throughout the entire week after you and Jess had backed him up with the Goblin. You’d gone out on a couple of trial runs with Peter B. and Jess since then to get you more accustomed to multiversal travel, and you had transported a couple of rather disoriented lesser villains-of-the-week to their home dimensions without any trouble. Your reflexes, strategizing, adaptability, and burgeoning leadership had condensed hours of wrangling into less than one each time you set out. Your reports were immaculate, and Peter B. and Jess showered you in endless praises once you would return home.

Miguel had watched, so of course he knew how efficiently you worked—but he hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d been observing, and thus let them talk without comment. He had to admit that it was good that he’d bitten the bullet and had recruited you. He could already tell that you would exponentially improve their success rate. You were an excellent Spider-Woman, and your additional work off-world hadn’t impacted that on your own in the slightest.

If only he could get over himself long enough to treat you like everyone else.

The others had already noticed his withdrawal. He wasn’t exactly extroverted by nature, and he certainly wasn’t a man of many words, but Jess had already tried twice to get him to open up about what was bothering him. Peter B. had yet to strike, and Miguel looked forward to avoiding him and that previously promised conversation for as long as possible…which meant that he reclused himself into the lab as much as he could physically stand it.

Which, of course, didn’t last.

“Miguel?”

The man let out a heavy sigh, tipping his head back and to the side to glare at the apparition glowing near his shoulder. “I thought I told you to let me know when he came close.”

“You did,” LYLA remarked idly, inspecting her incorporeal nails as she cycled through multiple shades, “and I did—you just ignored it, boss man.”

Miguel scowled and scrolled through the screens around him, spotting that very notification blinking at him urgently. He swiped crabbily to dismiss it into the ether, gritting his teeth as Peter effortlessly latched onto the edge of the platform and hoisted himself up onto it.

“I thought MJ had an appointment today,” Miguel groused, focusing resolutely on a diagram projecting the potential increase of interspatial warps.

“She did. Three hours ago.” Peter nudged him in the arm. “Did you really lose track of that much time?”

Miguel’s eyes cut over to the clock he had shrunk and put to the side—as well as the timer that was supposed to chime every hour for him to walk around, stretch, and rest his eyes for ten minutes. He’d snoozed it so many times that it had, evidently, given up altogether—or LYLA had disengaged it to keep from annoying him further. He scoffed softly at the time. “I’ve been busy.”

“I’ll say. Your new little protege sure has turned the entire collective upside down.”

“Just say what you want to say and be done with it, Peter. I’m not in the mood.”

A beat of silence. Out of the corner of Miguel’s eye, the older man’s expression had tightened. “It seems like you already know what I’m going to say.”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I’m worried about you. You know. Like friends ought to be.”

Miguel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You see me as a liability.”

“I am worried,” Peter reiterated flatly, “that you’re going to get yourself hurt again.”

“Believe me, Peter, I’ve learned my lesson.” Miguel turned about lazily on his heel to face him and bracing his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to spend your precious time worrying about me.”

“I’m going to, regardless.” Peter didn’t have an ounce of insincerity on his face, even as Miguel sneered down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Look. Recruiting her was a good thing. She’s excellent at what she does, and she’ll probably end up on the main squad soon enough with how reliable and level-headed she is. She’s already been tinkering in the robotics lab in some of her free time and blowing the minds of the Spiders that work there. She’s got a lot of potential.” He folded his arms over his chest—for once lacking that damnable bathrobe. “She’s a lot like you, actually, with how independent she is trying to take responsibility for everyone and everything around her. I can already see the martyr and/or hero complex working, or whatever it is about you that you can’t seem to accept help until you absolutely need it.”

Miguel narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t give me that look.” Peter pointed his index finger and jabbed him in the sternum. “I’m not stupid, Miguel. Don’t try to lie to me and tell me that you recruited her entirely out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I agreed with Jess that she would fit the bill.”

“She’s also a duplicate of your dead wife.”

Miguel’s upper lip curled back in a silent snarl, baring his fangs. “Careful, Peter.”

Heedless to the danger he tread into, as always, Peter carried on without flinching once. “Put those away—I’m not trying to antagonize you. I just want to know what’s going on in your head so I can help.”

“I didn’t want to,” Miguel pointed out, doggedly avoiding that idea, “and I got scolded for arguing against it, so maybe you ought to go talk to Jess if you have qualms with her eye for recruitment.”

“It’s one thing that you took on another Spider,” Peter digressed, “but…Miguel. It’s only been two months. Are you sure you’re okay dealing with…all this? I know you’re still struggling, and that’s to be expected—what you went through is…beyond anything I could ever handle. Losing May has been hard enough, but losing an entire—”

“Don’t.” Miguel took a lumbering step forward, shoulders tightening. “Don’t you even think about it.”

“What, like you’ve been doing?” Peter shot back, patience thinning. The furrow between his brows deepened. “You may bury it so you don’t have to deal with the baggage, but I remember the aftermath. I remember having to put you back together, to keep you from going straight off the brink. You fell apart, Miguel—and that’s okay! Hell, I would’ve been more surprised if you hadn’t! But pardon my skepticism that you’re suddenly okay enough to be interacting with another version of your wife so soon!”

Miguel’s head throbbed with how tightly he ground his teeth to keep from shouting. “Do you honestly think,” he growled, “that I don’t think about it every second of every day?” He took another step forward, hedging Peter closer to the edge of the platform. “Do you really think that it doesn’t keep me up at all hours? That I’ve gotten a full night’s sleep since then? Do you really think I’m that cold?”

“No. I didn’t say that.” Peter’s eyes flashed. “But what you’re doing isn’t healthy, Miguel. Working yourself to death to avoid allowing yourself to heal isn’t going to get you anywhere but an early grave. And I’m just afraid that she’s going to exacerbate the problem—LYLA told me you’ve been in here for nearly twelve hours! You need to get out—go hit the gym or eat or—or—I don’t know, something! But if her being around is going to cause you to regress, I don’t know that I can condone it—regardless of whether Jess pushed for it or not.” His expression softened slightly, and he reached up to clasp Miguel’s shoulder. “I just don’t like seeing you suffer like this, and I know that you’re not going to ease up on yourself without outside intervention. You’re the one holding all of this together, sure, but you don’t have to be the only one. It won’t kill you to let us in.”

Miguel cast a scathing glare towards the AI, who merely shrugged noncommittally. He managed to retain enough will not to shrug off the grounding touch, even if it made his skin prickle with nerves. “This is my burden to bear,” he responded lowly. “And there’s too much at stake for me to falter now.”

Peter regarded him forlornly for a long moment, eyes scanning his resolute face, before releasing a defeated sigh and throwing his hands up before they landed against the fronts of his thighs with a resounding clap that echoed through the lab. “…All right. Sure. Just…let yourself break, then.” He turned to step to the edge of the platform. “But either way, I’ll still be here to help you get back up, Miguel. I, for one—and Jess, too—aren’t going anywhere just because you keep pushing us away. We’re staying right here because we know you need it, even if you don’t think you do. We’re not going to leave, no matter what.” He cast a glance at him over his shoulder. “I just hope that you can say the same about her, if you’re going to put yourself through all this for her sake.”

Peter leapt nimbly down, and Miguel counted his breaths until the doors swished shut. Only then did he let his resolve crack—and the monitor to his right paid a dear price for it.

“I think you really should listen to him,” LYLA said softly. “He’s only trying to look out for you.”

“I’ve had about enough of you,” Miguel muttered darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose and tucking his chin against his chest.

“Don’t make me lock up the computer. Your health is more important than all this. I’ll let you know if anything turns out abnormal.” She flitted to stare directly up into his eyes, imitating his hunch. “Eating something will help your headache go away, you know.”

He glared balefully down at her. “You’re not my fucking mother.”

“No, but apparently I have to act like her.” She made a shooing motion. “Vamos.* All this will still be waiting for you when you get back.”

“I… fine. Fine.” Miguel engaged the command to lower the platform, setting a timer on his watch for half an hour. LYLA ticked it up to a whole one with a snap of her fingers, ignoring his scowl. “LYLA.”

“Just part of my protocol, boss. Taking care of you is one of my top priorities.” She raised a brow at him. “You should know that by now.”

He…couldn’t refute that. It was a branch of code as deeply embedded into her programming as anything else. His wife had made sure of it.

“…Miguel?”

He stiffened.

LYLA blinked away, leaving him alone on the steadily descending platform. He looked down and spotted you emerging from the shadows, face pinched as you met his gaze.

“Yeah,” he responded tightly. “What is it?”

You held a paper sack in your hand, but the edges of the top were shredded slightly from fretful fingers. “I brought you a snack.”

He closed his eyes with a sigh, girding himself and stepping off the ledge as it finally rested to confront you directly. He accepted the bag. “Thanks.”

You were watching him carefully, eyes lingering a little too long for comfort.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed, troubled—the internal debate behind your carefully neutral expression was obvious in the way that you chewed the inside of your lip.

Miguel couldn’t say that he was fully kind when he prompted, very firmly, “I’ve already had one fucking heart-to-heart today. What’s one more?”

“You didn’t tell me I was your wife,” you said softly.

That statement took all the puff out of him in one fell swoop. Miguel’s shoulders sank and he looked off to the side. “How long were you listening?”

“Long enough.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it pertinent to the job,” he mumbled.

“So you planned to avoid me instead. To spare yourself the migraine.” You shook your head. “You didn’t have to bring me on if you didn’t want to, regardless of what Jess said. I didn’t necessarily want to join, you know.”

“You’re good at this,” he protested. “We need you here.”

“I don’t want you to torture yourself for the sake of efficiency. Between the two of us, I’m more expendable.”

His brows furrowed. “You’re not—”

“I’m a danger to your wellbeing, if nothing else.”

“Don’t…” He sighed tersely. “Don’t let what Peter said get to you. He’s a worrywart who sticks his nose in others’ business where he doesn’t belong.”

“It’s only been two months?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We need to, if it’s going to be this big of an issue. If that’s the reason you can hardly stand to be around me or to look me in the eye…seeing as you’re the main piece to this outfit, obviously the solution is to remove me from the equation altogether.”

“No,” he gritted out. “It’s—”

“Don’t tell me it’s not a problem.”

“It isn’t one!” he retorted.

“For Peter to decide an intervention was necessary? Yeah, I’d sure fucking say it is.”

Miguel let out a low growl, watching your expression slowly cracking at the edges—lines formed in the corners of your mouth as you pursed your lips, a deep wrinkle between your brows—but you still kept that damnable monotone. The same you’d used when you’d initially rejected his invitation to the society.

Indifference as self-defense. Didn’t he know that well?

“Look,” he ground out, “regardless of my…personal background, I mean it when I say that it isn’t something you need to worry about. All my shit doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Obviously that’s not the case.”

He had almost—almost—forgotten how impossibly stubborn you could be, and how badly it pissed him off when you were.

“It’s none of your business,” he retorted.

Your eyes flashed with indignation. “I would have liked to have known at the start—it would have explained the way you act around me and I wouldn’t have had to wonder what the hell I did wrong—but you probably didn’t because you figured it would’ve impacted my decision. And it would have, because I sure as hell didn’t want to put any stress between you and the others. If you knew me at all, you’d know that I hate getting involved in drama.”

“I do know you,” he responded, “and the reason I didn’t tell you is so you wouldn’t have to get involved. Even still, I don’t owe you an explanation—you’re not my wife.”

“No,” you spat, “but a version of me was! Don’t you think that earns me some basic civility? You convince me to take this job against your own wishes and then ignore me for a week? Do you even realize how shitty that is?”

Miguel stepped closer, looming over you, as the hot flush of anger began to creep out of his belly up his neck. “I have enough on my plate,” he muttered, “without you adding to the pot.”

“I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t decided to bring me—if you’re going to be all wishy-washy about it, just let me go home and forget about the whole mess!”

Miguel clamped his jaw shut and closed his eyes tightly. “I…can’t do that.”

“And why the hell not?” You were matching his temper now, stoking it like kindling. “If it’s so bad for me to be here because I’m a duplicate of your dead wife, then why can’t you have the decency to act like my dead husband and communicate with me?”

He snapped. “Just because you were born with a mole behind your ear and burned your wrist baking lava cakes for your cousin’s wedding and got a crooked fucking cesarean scar because they let a goddamn student nurse stitch you up in post-op, you aren’t my fucking wife!”

The oppressive hush that directly followed the tapering echo of Miguel’s reverberating roar felt heavy enough to crush the air from his lungs. He dared not look away from your crestfallen expression for fear of letting slip the strict control over his that he metaphorically gripped with whitened, grinding knuckles. Even LYLA uttered not a sound, though it was of no consequence—Miguel could hear nothing but the infuriatingly rapid thrum of your heart as intimately as the mirrored pounding of his own just beneath his third and fourth ribs.

“…She lived?” you whispered hoarsely, to your credit never having flinched once at his enraged outburst. You didn’t even blink, staring at him with rounded, watering eyes and parted lips that only occasionally trembled.

The question was enough to off-center him, and he schooled his snarl into a slightly more composed scowl. “What?”

“She survived?” you croaked, your voice on the razor’s edge of breaking. “She actually made it?”

Dooming follow-ups indeed. Miguel vehemently wanted to refuse to answer them. Never did he want to rehash such a tender wound, especially given…every-fucking-thing about the present situation. It was hard enough having new members of the collective seeking solace in his losses in order to share the burden of their grief, but having such a conversation with (a version of) you…

“...Yeah.” He swallowed roughly. “The labor started two weeks early, and she was flipped over wrong. They had to remove her. She was in the NICU for three days, but…she turned out okay.” For a while, anyway—long before I ever got there.

You nodded, eyes falling to the floor as you worked your bottom lip between your teeth. Your restraint was admirable, but he could see the way you were trembling.

“That’s…that’s good.” You shook your head in a singular, abortive motion. “I…I guess something happened to her after, though. Right?”

Miguel, too, looked away. “Years later. Yeah.”

You nodded once. “…I’m sorry.”

He wanted to stay angry—it was so much easier to be angry than to be upset—but he couldn’t maintain it. Not with how heartbroken you looked. “It wasn’t your fault,” he responded flatly. “Either of you.”

“...What was her name?” you asked softly.

Miguel gritted his teeth. “Gabriella.”

You glanced up at him, the faintest suggestion of a smile tugging at the corners of your eyes. “After your brother?”

His throat clamped shut. He could only nod.

“I’ll bet she was beautiful.” You cleared your throat. “I hope she took after you, anyway.”

“She was. And…she did.”

Your expression shifted into something a little less readable. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you,” you started quietly. “I’m sorry if my being here has made it harder on you. I never meant to hurt you, or—”

“...Stop apologizing.”

“—to be a burden. I thought maybe I’d be able to finally get some closure being close to you, at least, even if you aren’t him, and—”

“Stop.”

“—I feel like I’ve just made it worse for you, and that was never my intention—”

“Stop it!” he pleaded, voice cracking. Your jaw clicked shut, looking stricken. “Please, fresa. Just drop it.”

You blinked. A tear slipped down your cheek. You opened your mouth.

“Don’t apologize,” he gritted out tightly.

“I…okay.” You swallowed, inwardly debating. You eventually caved at his defeated, if expectant, silence. “Did…did you call her that, too?”

Miguel squeezed his eyes shut, half-turning away from you. “...No. I called her Shortcake.” Gabriella’s mother had been Dulcita—but that was what his alternate self had used for her, so he’d adopted that instead to maintain his guise.

“...Oh.” You didn’t seem certain how to respond to that.

Miguel dragged a palm down his dampened face. “Look. It is…difficult. I can’t lie to you even if I wanted to. But you are rapidly proving to be integral to this team, and I’m not going to allow this to interfere with our combat compatibility in the field. But if it makes you uncomfortable, or if it bothers you, then it’s best if you’d just…go.”

“...Do you want me to leave?”

He glared at you. “What does that matter?”

“A hell of a lot.” Your gaze was resolute, unwavering. “I’ll only leave if you ask me to.”

Miguel regarded you for a long time. Finally, he let out a heavy, shaky exhale. “...No. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Okay. Then I’ll stay. And we’ll…work through this. Whatever this is.” You gestured between yourself and him. “For what it’s worth, while it hasn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination…I still miss him, but it’s a relief when I’m around you, even if it only distracts me for a little while. It still hurts, but…it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“I…agree.” Miguel opted to sit, sinking onto the edge of the platform and burying his face in his hands to avoid your eyes.

“...I miscarried.”

He peeked between his fingers without moving an inch.

You were fiddling with the fingertip of your suit, absently chewing on the inside of your cheek, gazing at the ground. “I didn’t know until after I’d lost her. Sneaking into a quarantined explosion site and getting bit by a radioactive spider didn’t agree with a baby, evidently.”

Miguel snapped eyes shut against their sudden, burning sting.

“It was too early to know anything. About two months. I…tortured myself about it for years. Felt like it was my punishment for not being there when…maybe if I had been, then Mig—you—he wouldn’t have…y’know.” You drew a shaky breath, your voice pitching with the strain of telltale tears. “She was the only piece of…of him that I had left,” you croaked hoarsely. “And I lost her, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, shaking his head morosely.

“...I’m sure telling you the same thing wouldn’t make you feel any better, either.”

You weren’t wrong. “It’s been…longer than two months.”

He felt the weight of your stare on him—but it was sympathetic, not critical.

“I lost my wife three years ago.” He dug his fingertips into his eyes. “But I…did something two months ago that I regret. I learned something about canon events that I didn’t realize before. It…cost me a lot of lives. Countless lives.” He swallowed roughly, daring to look back at you through his dewy lashes. “My selfishness caused irreparable harm. An entire universe collapsed. I don’t want to make the same mistake—or lose you—again.”

Gone was any trace of ire from you. You only regarded him with those soft, sad eyes.

“I don’t want your pity,” he continued, preemptively, “I know I fucked up. I’m not making any excuses for what I did, just…trying to make reparations where I can. Not that there’s much of anything I can ever do to fix that.”

“I don’t pity you, Miguel,” you said softly. “But I am sorry that you’ve been hurt so badly.”

He ground his teeth, tucking his chin sharply against his chest. “It’s a sacrifice to do what I do. What we do. Even if we don’t want to do it. Even when we don’t want the bad that goes with the good.”

You stepped closer to stand between his feet. Your comparatively small, warm hand rested on his shoulder, a light but unwavering touch that anchored him more than he would readily admit. He resisted the urge to lean into it, but just barely. “That line of thinking doesn’t make it any easier, Miguel.”

He nodded silently. It really didn’t, but it was the doctrine he’d preach until he gave his last breath if it meant that another Spider-Person would find consolation in his words.

A long moment crawled by, and Miguel’s resolve was weakening by the second.

Finally, you withdrew your hand, eased back half a step, and turned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He let you go. Your unspoken declaration lifted more weight from his shoulders than he realized he’d been carrying: you would stay, even though he’d already managed to hurt you.

He was already indebted to you beyond what he could repay.

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allari-ammayi · 7 months

Text

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

The Monkey Woman

Synopsis: Y/n decides to blend in with the other women of Mahismati and dons a Sari, catching Bhalla and Bahu's attention. Y/n is acquainted with several other women in the court, who teach her how to wear a sari in the Mahismati way. When Y/n's new friends longingly stare at a fruit tree, Y/n takes it upon herself to climb the tree and fetch some fruit, which catches the attention of everyone around, especially an amused Bhalla, who endlessly teases her about it.

4k Words

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Once Y/N had been settled into her official room within the palace, she couldn't help but ponder her unique situation. The unfamiliar surroundings and the grandeur of the palace were a stark contrast to her previous life running her grandmother's antique store. She knew that to truly understand the kingdom and its people, she needed to blend in and dress like the other ladies of Mahishmati.

Curiosity piqued, and Y/N explored the closet in her room. To her delight, she discovered a breathtaking sari adorned with intricate patterns and vibrant colours. Although completely unfamiliar with the attire, she made up her mind to give it a try, despite her apprehensions.

With a mixture of determination and uncertainty, Y/N carefully unfurled the sari and began the process of dressing herself. She attempted to mimic what she had seen in movies and pictures, her fingers gently navigating the folds and pleats of the fabric. The sari's length and complexity posed a challenge, and her first attempt resulted in a slightly skewed, modernized version of the traditional attire. But she persisted, adjusting the drape and pleats until she managed to make it presentable.

As she gazed at her reflection in the ornate mirror, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her efforts to assimilate into this new world. The vibrant colours of the sari added a touch of elegance to her appearance, and she couldn't deny that she looked the part, even if it was far from perfect.

As Y/N explored the vast palace, she marvelled at the opulence that surrounded her. The grand corridors seemed to stretch on endlessly, and the walls were adorned with intricate designs that told stories of a rich history. The palace felt like a labyrinth of secrets and hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the grandeur of Mahishmati. The palace was a testament to the kingdom's power and influence, and Y/N couldn't help but wonder about the lives of the people who had lived within these walls for generations.

As she continued her exploration, Y/N encountered palace servants who bustled about their duties. Their attire and demeanour were a stark contrast to her own, but they treated her with respect and kindness. Y/N felt a sense of gratitude for their hospitality, which made her feel less like a stranger in this foreign land.

Her journey through the palace led her to the palace gardens, a lush oasis of greenery and vibrant flowers. The scent of blooming blossoms filled the air, and Y/N couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the natural surroundings. She took a moment to pause and soak in the tranquillity of the garden, finding solace in the midst of her extraordinary circumstances.

As Y/N continued to explore, she couldn't shake the feeling that her presence in Mahishmati held a greater purpose. She was determined to fulfil her mission, to change Bhallaladeva's fate, and to make a difference in this ancient world. The journey ahead was filled with challenges and uncertainties, but Y/N was ready to face them head-on.

With each step she took in the grand palace, Y/N's determination grew stronger. She was no longer just a visitor; she was a part of the intricate tapestry of Mahishmati, and she was determined to play her role in shaping its destiny.

As Y/N explored the grand corridors of the palace, her attention was suddenly drawn to a bustling training ground on the ground floor. Curiosity piqued, she made her way towards it. There, she spotted Bhallaladeva, intensely practicing swordsmanship with a group of skilled warriors.

From her vantage point on the third floor, Y/N had a clear view of the training ground. She couldn't help but be mesmerized by the display of strength and precision before her. Bhallaladeva's movements were like a dance of deadly grace, his sword flashing through the air with deadly accuracy. It was a sight to behold, and Y/N found herself completely absorbed in watching him.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Amarendra Bahubali, who had been present at the training ground, noticed her presence from a distance. He observed her as she admired Bhallaladeva's swordsmanship, intrigued by her fascination. Bahu had always been skilled in reading people, and he couldn't help but wonder what it was about Bhallaladeva that had captured Y/N's attention.

As Bhallaladeva continued his rigorous training, Y/N's gaze remained fixed on him. She admired not just his physical prowess but also the determination and dedication with which he practised. It was clear to her that he was a man who took his responsibilities seriously, even in matters of combat.

Y/N's unintentional observation of Bhallaladeva's training provided her with a deeper insight into the man. She had seen him not just as a prince or a warrior but as a person committed to honing his skills and fulfilling his duties to the kingdom.

Amarendra Bahubali, still watching Y/N, couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about her. Her fascination with Bhallaladeva had not gone unnoticed, and Bahu wondered if there was more to this mysterious newcomer than met the eye.

Bahubali, with his innate curiosity about everything and everyone, couldn't resist the urge to approach Y/N. As she stood on the third floor, her gaze still fixed on Bhallaladeva's intense training session, Bahubali made his way towards her with a friendly smile.

He approached her with a warm and open demeanour, a natural conversationalist.

"Quite a display, isn't it?" he began, gesturing towards Bhallaladeva and the warriors below. "Our prince takes his training very seriously."

Y/N, somewhat startled by Bahubali's sudden appearance, turned her attention to him. She found herself face to face with a man who exuded an air of approachability and friendliness. It was a refreshing change from the tension and unfamiliarity she had experienced since her arrival.

Her response, however, was marked by a strange manner of speech, a modern Telugu with a hint of her unique quirks. She replied,

"Oh, I know right?! Like, seriously, he's a badass warrior, isn’t he?" Her unconventional way of speaking piqued Bahubali's curiosity, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her choice of words.

"Indeed, he is," Bahubali agreed, his deep voice carrying a friendly tone. "But I must say, your way of describing it is quite... unique." He emphasized the word 'unique' with a playful twinkle in his eye.

Y/N couldn't help but smile in response to Bahubali's warm demeanour. Despite the language barrier and the unfamiliar surroundings, there was something about his presence that put her at ease. It was as though she had found a friendly face amidst the unfamiliarity of the palace.

Bahubali continued the conversation, genuinely interested in getting to know this intriguing lady. "I haven't seen you around the palace before. Are you a guest of the queen, or have you recently arrived in Mahishmati?" he inquired jokingly, his curiosity driving the conversation forward.

Y/N nodded, her expressive eyes reflecting her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm like a newbie here. Just arrived and trying to soak in all the royal vibes, you know?" She joked back. She couldn't help but laugh at her own words, feeling a bit self-conscious about her informal way of speaking.

Bahubali's warm smile remained unwavering. "Well, we're glad to have you here in Mahishmati and it’s good to know you’re settling in well," he replied, his gaze sincere. "If you ever need any assistance or have questions about the kingdom, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here to help."

Y/N's heart warmed at Bahubali's offer of assistance. She had never expected to find such a welcoming presence in this ancient world.

"That's really nice of you," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I might just take you up on that offer."

As Bahubali and Y/N continued their conversation, their rapport grew effortlessly. The language barrier seemed less daunting, and they found common ground in their shared curiosity about each other's worlds. In that moment, amidst the grandeur of the palace and the intensity of Bhallaladeva's training, a genuine connection was forming between these two individuals from different worlds, bound by the intrigue of the unknown.

As Bhallaladeva sparred with the skilled warriors in the training ground, his focus was unwavering, his swordsmanship precise and relentless. However, on this particular day, something unusual happened. His eyes, trained for combat and strategy, were inexplicably drawn to the grand palace's upper levels.

There, standing on the third floor, was Y/N, dressed in a vibrant and slightly skewed sari that accentuated her grace and elegance. Bhallaladeva's swordplay momentarily faltered as he caught sight of her. He found himself inexplicably mesmerized by her presence, his sword hanging mid-air as if enchanted by her beauty.

Bhallaladeva found himself mesmerized by the grace and uniqueness of her attire, something entirely unfamiliar to him in this ancient kingdom. It was as if her sari style had cast a spell over him, capturing his attention in a way he had never expected.

Despite the bustling training ground and the clang of swords, Bhallaladeva's eyes remained fixed on Y/N. The warriors he sparred with exchanged puzzled glances as they witnessed their prince's unusual distraction. They had never seen their prince react this way before, and it was clear that something extraordinary had caught his attention. Something extraordinary had undoubtedly caught his eye, and it was clear that Y/N had ignited a curiosity and fascination within him.

Amidst the chaotic training session, Bhallaladeva couldn't help but find Y/N's sari style uniquely beautiful, even though it was a modern twist that stood out in the grandeur of Mahishmati. This unexpected allure pulled him away from his rigorous training, setting the stage for an intriguing connection that would defy the conventions of their world.

Despite his usually reserved and stern demeanour, Bhallaladeva couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Y/N. There was an undeniable intrigue in her presence, an allure that had disrupted his focus in a way he couldn't explain.

In the middle of the clang of swords and the shouts of the warriors, Bhallaladeva found himself drawn to Y/N's graceful figure, her vibrant sari standing out amidst the palace's grandeur. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder about the enigmatic woman who had unknowingly captured his attention, setting the stage for a connection that would defy the conventions of their world.

As Y/N decided it was time to explore more of the palace and get accustomed to the people around, she casually bid farewell to Bahubali, leaving him with a smirk and a wave.

“Well, there’s a lot more this to palace than just a hallway and a balcony, so I’ll take my leave now,”

“Well, I could show you around, if you wanted,” Bahubali offered, earning a smile from Y/n. Y/n looked around and saw the group of girls that were fawning over Bahu, and chuckled.

“Well, Prince Charming, I'll let you go back to your admirers. Don't want to keep the ladies waiting.” She said, with a princely charm, Bahubali chuckled,

"You're quite the character, Y/N. I hope you enjoy your time exploring the palace."

“Thanks, I’ll catch you later, Bahu,” Y/n departed with a wink and a wave, forgetting that she wasn’t talking to a fictional character anymore, but rather a real prince.

Her informal manner of parting amused Bahubali and even those nearby were taken aback by her audacity.

Bahubali, grinning at Y/N's playful departure, watched her go with an amused glint in his eye. He couldn't help but admire her spirited and carefree nature, which seemed to contrast the formality of the palace.

As Y/N ventured deeper into the palace, she couldn't help but notice the commotion caused by Bahubali's presence. It was a familiar scene - girls swooning and whispering amongst themselves, vying for a glimpse of the charismatic prince. Bahubali, accustomed to such attention, smiled and greeted those who approached him with charm and grace.

Y/N, on the other hand, was content to blend into the background, observing the interactions and dynamics of the palace without drawing too much attention to herself. It was her way of understanding this new world she had found herself in, and she was determined to make the most of this unique opportunity.

As Bahubali departed, a group of giggling girls quickly spotted Y/n wandering around the palace grounds. They couldn't contain their curiosity and excitement and rushed over to introduce themselves.

"Hello there! You must be new," one of the girls exclaimed, her eyes filled with curiosity.

Y/n offered a warm smile, appreciating their friendliness. "Yes, I am. I arrived here just recently," she replied.

The girls were eager to know more. "What's your name?" another girl inquired.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, thinking about her peculiar circumstances. "You can call me Y/n," she finally replied, opting for a more modern abbreviation of her name.

The questions continued to pour in as the girls gathered around her, creating an impromptu circle of curious faces.

"Where do you come from, Y/n?" one girl asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

Y/n contemplated how much she should reveal about her true origins. "I come from a distant land, far from Mahishmati," she answered vaguely, maintaining an air of mystery.

"How do you know Prince Bahubali?" another girl inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

Y/n chuckled, understanding the intrigue surrounding her connection with Bahubali. "I actually met him just yesterday," she confessed, and the girls exchanged surprised glances.

Their curiosity didn't wane, and they continued to pepper Y/n with questions. "What brings you here? Are you staying in the palace?" another girl asked.

Y/n decided to reveal her purpose, realizing that it wasn't a far-fetched story. "I've come to study the Mahishmati culture and learn about this incredible kingdom. As for staying in the palace, it seems I will be here for some time," she explained.

The girls exchanged glances, both impressed and envious of Y/n's opportunity. Despite their initial curiosity and perhaps a tinge of jealousy regarding her connection with Bahubali, they welcomed her warmly into their circle.

One of the girls then noticed something unique about Y/n's attire.

"Your sari is quite different from what we wear. Have you tried draping it the Mahishmati way?" she asked, a friendly smile on her face.

Y/n looked down at her slightly skewed sari, realizing that she had indeed draped it in a more modern fashion.

"I must confess, I'm not very skilled at draping it the way you do here. Would any of you be willing to teach me?" she asked, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

The girls exchanged amused glances and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, we can show you! It's not too difficult once you get the hang of it," one of them reassured her.

With a single move, the ladies swept Y/n off her feet and ushed her to her chambers, but not before jealously admiring her room, its grandeur, size, and general amazingness.

Under the guidance of her newfound friends, Y/n's sari was expertly draped in the traditional Mahishmati style. With their assistance, she looked every bit the part of a palace dweller.

As they began to teach Y/n the art of draping a sari the Mahishmati way, the girls and Y/n formed an instant bond. Laughter and conversation filled the air as they shared stories and experiences, marking the beginning of a newfound friendship in the heart of the grand palace.

As they completed their task, the group of girls excitedly whisked Y/n away, eager to show off their newfound friend to the rest of the palace. They took her on a tour, introducing her to various parts of the grand palace.

Their wanderings led them to the training area, where the clashing of swords and the shouts of warriors echoed through the air. Y/n marvelled at the display of martial prowess taking place before her.

Unbeknownst to her, Bhallaladeva was engrossed in his training once more, his focus sharp as ever. However, as Y/n entered the area, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of her, and his swordplay faltered for a brief moment. Her presence, clad in the exquisitely draped sari, captivated him once again, much like it had the first time he saw her.

Bhallaladeva's intense eyes remained fixed on Y/n as she moved with her newfound friends, his curiosity and fascination growing with every passing moment.

As the group of girls roamed the palace grounds, they came across a magnificent fruit tree laden with ripe, tempting fruits. Their eyes sparkled with desire as they gazed up at the fruit-laden branches.

Y/n couldn't help but notice their wistful expressions. With a confident smile, she decided to take matters into her own hands. The girls turned to her, curious about her plan.

"I'll fetch us some fruit," Y/n declared, earning surprised looks from her new friends. They exchanged glances, intrigued by her confidence.

"How?" one of the girls asked, her curiosity piqued.

Y/n simply winked at them and began demonstrating her plan. She gathered the end of her sari and deftly tucked it into her lehenga. The other girls watched with wide eyes as she approached the fruit-laden tree and started to climb, her sari serving as a makeshift rope.

The sight was nothing short of astonishing, and it didn't take long for a small crowd to gather, both men and women, to witness this incredible display. Y/n's agile ascent was met with gasps of amazement and admiration.

From her lofty perch, Y/n plucked several ripe fruits and gently dropped them to her friends below. The girls eagerly caught the fruit, their faces lighting up with delight.

But amid the cheers and applause, Y/n couldn't help but notice Bhallaladeva among the onlookers. His gaze was fixed on her, his expression a mix of awe and fascination.

However, Y/n, unaware of his true intentions, mistook his look for one of mockery. She quickly descended from the tree and landed gracefully on the ground. Brushing bits of bark from her hands, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

Not wanting to appear immodest in front of the prince, Y/n hastily readjusted her sari, ensuring it covered her properly. In her mind, she believed she had committed a social faux pas by climbing the tree, unaware that her actions had left many in awe, including Bhallaladeva himself.

As Bhallaladeva approached Y/n, the crowd that had gathered to witness her impressive feat began to disperse, giving them some space. Bhalla couldn't resist a snarky comment and a playful grin as he closed the distance between them.

"Quite the agile monkey, aren't you?" he teased, a glint of amusement in his eyes. His remark was met with a few chuckles from those who had witnessed Y/n's tree-climbing adventure.

Y/n, never one to back down from a friendly exchange, responded with an equally snarky comeback.

"Well, they say necessity is the mother of invention. Besides, I've never seen a tree laden with such delicious-looking fruit before."

Bhallaladeva's curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't help but inquire,

"Speaking of inventions, why the change in your sari style?"

Y/n glanced down at her sari, now draped in the traditional Mahishmati fashion. She chuckled softly, realizing her earlier fashion faux pas.

"Honestly, I didn't even realize there was a different style here. Back where I come from, that was how we wear saris. It's comfortable and practical."

Bhalla, despite his initial teasing, spoke more softly this time. "Well, you should wear your style more often. It suits you and you wear it well."

Y/n, caught off guard by one of the fruits that her lady friend had tossed her, blinked in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Could you repeat it?" she asked, genuinely curious about his words.

But Bhallaladeva's face reddened, and he quickly masked his embarrassment with a snarky comment.

"Never mind. It wasn't that important." Y/n held a saddened look on her face.

“Aw, come on please tell me, I really didn’t hear you!” She pleaded, her look causing Bhalla to go redder and he looked away in embarrassed anger.

“I said it was nothing, Monkey!” Bhalla huffed, angrily, waving Y/n away, “Go back to climbing trees or something.” He grumbled.

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Y/n both puzzled and intrigued by their brief but engaging conversation.

Y/n couldn't resist the opportunity to fire back, her playful smirk evident.

"Oh, so you're an expert on monkeys now, Your Highness?” She shouted, causing Bhalla to turn shapely on his heel and walk back to Y/n with speed. “I didn't know they taught primatology to royal brats."

Bhallaladeva raised an eyebrow, not one to back down from a challenge.

"It appears they've also taught you to speak out of turn, insolent monkey girl." Y/n feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh, forgive me, your majesty. I must have forgotten my royal etiquette class back in my land."

The prince's jaw tightened, and he shot back with a sly grin. "Perhaps they forgot to teach you manners in the land of Mexico."

Y/n pretended to ponder his words for a moment, tapping her chin. "Manners, you say? Is that why your palace is so quiet? Everyone afraid to speak?"

Bhallaladeva's face flushed. "Our court has its own decorum."

"Ah, yes," Y/n replied with faux reverence. "The 'Royal Rules of Silence,' I've heard of them."

The prince's nostrils flared as he clenched his fists, resorting to painting his face with a sly smirk. "You have a sharp tongue, monkey. I hope it doesn't get you into trouble."

Y/n leaned in closer, a challenging glint in her eye. "Trouble finds me, Your Highness. I've been trained in the art of survival in strange lands, after all."

Their argument was interrupted by the arrival of Y/n's friends, who had been observing the exchange with worry. One of them couldn't help but tease in hopes of killing the tension down a little,

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” She said, with a quick curtsy, “It seems you’ve met my friend over here,” She motioned towards Y/n, “She’s new to the kingdom, she doesn’t know anyone yet-” Bhalla raised his hand to the lady’s face, his eyes boring into Y/n’s.

“We’ve met before,” Bhalla said.

"Looks like someone's found a sparring partner, Y/n." The lady said, awkwardly.

Y/n grinned and winked at Bhallaladeva. "Oh, absolutely. I've been searching for a conversation as stimulating as this for ages. It's not every day you get to trade barbs with royalty."

Bhallaladeva rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Just remember, Monkey, royalty always gets the last word."

Y/n chuckled as she turned to leave with her friends. "We'll see about that, Your Royal Snarkiness. Until next time!"

As they walked away, Y/n couldn't help but feel a strange mix of annoyance and attraction toward the enigmatic prince. Little did she know that their banter-filled encounters would slowly evolve into something more profound, leading to a love story that transcended time and culture.

As Bhalla retreated, the encounter set the stage for further interactions and developments in the story. Y/n, still adjusting to life in Mahishmati, found herself navigating her role in this ancient kingdom while dealing with Bhallaladeva's enigmatic and often contradictory behaviour. The exchange left her with a sense of curiosity about the prince and a growing desire to unravel the layers of his complex personality.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

Taglist: @vellipo-mellaga, @mellaga-karagani, @vayari-bhama, @bitchy-bi-trash (To join the taglist, let me know in the comments, and you will be added to future ones!)

#telugu #tollywood #writers #writers on tumblr #bahubali #tamil #y/n #reader insert #telugu fanfic #x reader #bahubali x reader #bhallaladeva x reader #isekai #love triangle

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makur0 · 2 years

Note

HI HELLO MAY I REQ MEAN DOM KOHAKU?? MAYBE WITH A BRATTY READER??? THANK U!

“Stop teasing me!”

MINOR CHARACTER AGED UP - keep scrolling if uncomfortable

synopsis — he never wanted to interact with his leader’s younger sibling. but fate is telling him otherwise. and your bratty remarks. [aged up! kohaku oukawa x nb! reader]

content warnings — nsfw, mdni. mean! dom! kohaku, bratty! reader, penetration, name-calling, orgasm denial, degradation, masochism, wall sex, slight exhibitionism (dressing room), maybe ooc kohaku?

authors note — i saw bratty and immediately thought of rinne… so I thought, hey, why not I make reader his younger sibling? 🤭 (I’m not too proud of this b/c I felt like it really didn’t feel like Kohaku…)

word count — 1134

KOHAKU DIDN’T HATE RINNE. BUT HE WAS EASILY ONE OF THE MOST ANNOYING PEOPLE HE’S EVER MET.

Let alone worked with. Now, the circumstances were different when he had first started his idol career— he couldn’t complain. But now that he was 18… impatience was starting to get the best of him.

Everything about that man was annoying. His laugh, his gambling addiction.

His sibling.

No, not Hiiro. He was slightly better than Rinne, thankfully. It was you, [name]. And he absolutely despised you.

You had your brothers laugh, his aggravating ego, even his hobby of gambling. You were like the carbon copy of Rinne.

So why did he get so hot and flustered around you? How come when you shot a sarcastic remark at your brother, he felt proud?

No, no. He couldn’t be falling for you.

Fortunately for him, you were rarely around. You pursued into modeling ever since your brothers dragged you out of their hometown. From what he could see, you were loving it. So he shouldn’t be scared about you dropping out and camping out here. Then he could evaluate his emotions and safely put you in his ‘do not interact’ column.

But not right now. Currently Kohaku was trying to calm down his frustration at the Amagi and his antics at the previous live.

Agitated purple eyes flitted from door to door as he walked through the hallway, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

Again the leader of Crazy:B made a fool of himself, therefore the rest of the unit mates. Finally Kohaku realized why HiMERU was so desperate to find solo gigs.

He found his unit’s second dressing room; he didn’t want nor need to interact with people as he wanted to calm himself down. But fate seemed to slap him in the face cruelly, because when he opened the door he saw you standing in front of a mirror, wearing intricate pink lingerie that hugged your body perfectly.

Kohaku froze at the doorway, his eyes widening. You shifted at the noise behind you, glancing over your shoulder to see the male gaping like a fish.

Placing your hands on your hips and turning around to face him, you shot him a questioning look. “What?”

“I- you—“ he spluttered, a furious look on his face as he turned as bright as a tomato

“Oh, hey, you’re in the same unit as Nii-chan, right?” You questioned, not caring at all at the situation you were in. “Uh, Kohaku, right?”

“What are you doing here?” He exclaimed, now looking anywhere but you. “I- I thought you wouldn’t be here.”

You shrugged walking over to him as you ignored his clearly protestant actions. “I stopped by to see my brothers before I went to my next job… but I got carried away. Hey,” you whined. “Look at me when I’m talking to you! So rude~”

“You’re literally naked!” He snapped back. “I’m trying to be respectful-“ Kohaku let out a small squeak as you grabbed his face and forced you to look at him.

“Hm?” Mischievous eyes stared back up at him as you pressed your body closer to him. “Are you sure that’s the reason…?”

“Stop t-teasing me!”

“Why not?” You pouted, lifting up your hand to poke his nose “You can at least tell me—“

You cut yourself off abruptly as the male grabbed your hand, glaring daggers at you.

“You’re as annoying as your brother,” he snapped. “…But there are some things about you that aren’t half bad.”

Perfect, this was perfect. Not only he could relieve some stress, but this could be some sort of revenge against Rinne. And, he begrudgingly admitted, you looked so fucking hot for him not to just pass an opportunity like this.

Grabbing your other wrist, he turned and pressed you against the wall, trapping you with his own body.

“Oh? What’s this?” You smirked, shooting a challenging look at him.

“Shut the hell up and let me do what I want to do,” he huffed out before diving into your lips.

You had no need to push away, so you accepted the kiss wholeheartedly, even moaning shamelessly into it.

“Fucking slut,” Kohaku cursed, his kind persona now gone. “Just like your brother, huh?”

“We could go with that,” you gasped out, your hands flying to his pink hair as he started to nip at your neck.

His own arms felt around your body, picking at the lingerie. As he soaked in the details, he more he got riled up. The cute little bow on the panties, the straps on the stockings, even the choker that was attached to the top piece.

“I always knew that my brother’s friends were hot…” you giggled, rubbing your thighs together.

Kohaku merely hummed. “Hmm. After this I’ll be the only one you think about. Turn around now.”

You obliged, wiggling your ass towards his crotch as you pressed yourself further against the wall. Not wanting to tear the seemingly priceless lingerie, the male simply pulled down the panties and let it drop around your ankles.

He then suddenly slapped your ass, hard. A yelp soon melted into a moan, biting your lip as you hungrily gazed at him. A bright red handprint soon began to bloom on the skin.

Kohaku unbuckled his pants and his took his hard-on out, groaning as he immediately pushed himself inside of you. Your knees buckled at the sudden intrusion, but one of his arms kept you upright as he began to fuck you.

Pornographic moans flew out of your mouth as you arched against him, your chest bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. Jagged exhales left the male, cursing slightly under his breath whenever you tightened around him.

The noises you two made only grew louder as the time passed, precum and slick mixing together as it leaked out.

“Kohaku~” you gasped, legs jerking. “M’ close—“

But much to your devestation, he pulled out before you could orgasm. You even felt him come on your back, the sticky fluid decorating your skin.

“Huh?” You exclaimed, growing frustrated. “What was that for-!” Another yelp left you as his hand came in contact with your ass, another bright mark appearing.

“You think I’d give it to you that easily?” He snorted. “Very funny.”

“Please,” you cried out. “M’begging you— I-I’ll do anything—“

“Really?” He murmured, his voice growing quiet.

You nodded violently, grinding against him. “Yes! Yes, anything! Please…!”

Kohaku slowly slid into again, causing a string of gratitude and pleasure to pour out of your mouth. But you couldn’t see the growing smile on his face, nor expected what he was thinking about as you moaned loudly when you finally reached an orgasm.

Not only I have leverage against Amagi… but you’ll be like putty in my hands.

Killing two birds with one stone.

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars smut #enstars smut #enstars #kohaku oukawa #kohaku oukawa smut #kohaku oukawa x reader

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archivxx · 1 year

Text

✯[0.01]✯

[opening act]

Previous || Next

Note: When I’m given the choice between A, a slightly inconveniencing situation, and B, a shit show with a devastating consequence, I will inevitably chose option B.

Two years later.

In your defence, the man didn’t seem to mind the kiss too much. It did take him a moment to adjust—perfectly understandable, given the sudden circumstances. It was an awkward, uncomfortable, somewhat painful minute in which you were simultaneously smashing your lips against his and pushing yourself as high as your toes would extend to keep your mouth at the same level as his face. Did he have to be that tall? The kiss must have looked like some clumsy headbutt, you grew anxious that you was not going to be able to pull the whole thing off. Your dear best friend, Nicole, whom you had spotted coming your way a few seconds ago, was going to take one look at you and ‘Kiss Dude’ know for certain you were not even remotely committed to each other.

Then that agonising slow moment went by and the kiss changed. It became different. The man inhaled sharply and inclined his head a tiny bit making you feel like less of a squirrelling monkey climbing a baobab tree. His hands, which were kind of large and pleasantly warm in the cold outdoors of the party you were at, closed around your waist. They slid up a few inches, coming to wrap around your rib cage holding you to him. Not too close. Not too far.

Perfect.

It was honestly more of a ‘prolonged peck’ than anything. However it was quite nice. For a life span of a few seconds you forgot many things. Including the fact you were pressed against a complete stranger. You barely even had the chance to ask him, “can I kiss you?” Before you locked lips with him. That the reason you were even doing this was under the hope that you would fool Nicole. Your best friend in the entire world.

But a good kiss would do that; make a girl forget everything for a while. You found yourself melting into the kiss, running your hands across his jaw and brushing by his seemingly soft hair and you sighed, as if you were already out of breath and- nonono.

Nope.

No way.

You should not be enjoying this.

You gasped and pushed yourself away from him, frantically looking for Nichole. In the night time darkness off the party, Nichole was nowhere to be found. Which was weird considering you were certain you’d seen her coming this way.

‘Kiss Dude’ on the other hand, was standing right in front of you. His lips parted, chest rising and a weird light flickering in his eyes. That was when it had dawned on you of who exactly you’d just shared a kiss with.

Fuck you.

Fuck your whole fucking life.

Because Clyde Donovan was a know ass.

This fact wasn’t remarkable as everyone with even a small amount of fame was required some levels of assness. But in the pyramid of asses, Clyde Donovan was a special case. At least if rumours go anything by it.

He was the reason your roommate, Kyle, had almost given up on the band and quit music entirely. The one who made Kenny throw up from anxiety before a concert. He was the sole culprit for half of the upcoming artists quitting before they even got a chance. He was essentially the cause of stage fright.

Clyde Donovan may have been amazing at what he does, and have taken the public by storm but he was also mean and hypocritical. It was always obvious in the way he spoke and in the way he carried himself that he thought he was doing a better job at this whole music thing than everyone else. He was a notoriously moody, terrifying, pretentious dick.

And you had just kissed him.

You weren’t sure how long the silence lasted, only that he was the one the break it. He stood in front of you, insanely intimidating with eyes even scarier than him, himself. He was staring down on you. A scowled expression that you recognised from seeing him around at parties and other meetings with record companies. A look that was usually followed by him interrupting to point out an issue.

It’s okay. It’s totally fine. it’s okay. You would just pretend nothing at happened. Give him a nod and tiptoe out of here. Solid plan.

“Did- did you just kiss me?” He sounded utterly gobsmacked. His lips were parted and plump and—kissed. There was no way you were getting away with pretending you hand done anything.

It was still worth a try.

“No.”

It seemed to work.

“Ah okay then.” Clyde turned around vaguely disoriented and took a few steps to the table where the drinks were. Probably where he had been heading from the start.

You we’re starting to, foolishly, think that you were actually being let off the hook when he holted.

“Are you sure?”

Fuck sake.

You buried you face in your hands. “It not what it looks like.”

“Okay…I-okay.” He repeated. Slowly. His voice was hoarse, he was seemingly on the way to being mad. Or maybe he already was. “What’s going on here?”

There was no way you could explain this. Anyone would of found the situation odd but Clyde, who obviously considered empathy a bug, could and would never understand.

“I’m really sorry…I am but—this really isn’t any of your business.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then another. “Oh, okay. Of course.” It seemed like he was getting back to normal. His tone was starting to sound less surprised and more monotone. “I’ll just go and write a complaint about you then.”

You exhaled in relief. “Yeah that would be great. You know—what. Your what?”

He cocked his head. “A complaint. You basically just committed a crime of sexual misconduct.”

“No, I didn’t! What?”

He shrugged. “I must be mistaken then, someone else must have assaulted me.”

“Assaulted— I didn’t ‘assault’ you.”

“You did kiss me.”

“Well not really.”

“Without getting my consent.”

“I did actually ask if I could kiss you.”

“So why didn’t you wait for my consent?”

“What? You said yes.”

“Excuse me?”

You frowned. “I asked you if I could kiss you and you said yes.”

“Incorrect. You asked if you could kiss me and I laughed in your face.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you say yes!”

He raised and eyebrow at you and let you daydream of the floor swallowing you whole.

“Listen, I’m so so sorry. It was a really weird situation and we forget it happened?”

He studied you for a moment. A look set on his features that you couldn’t quite decipher. You couldn’t help but notice how small you felt in his presence. For some reason he felt like he was towering over you. You knew he always made a point of making people feel insignificant, you’d seen him do it at many events, but never to you.

Well, except for a few second ago once you almost put your tongue in his—

“Is there something wrong?” He almost sounded concerned.

“What? No. No, there isn’t.”

“Well” He continued calmly, “kissing a stranger you’ve never spoke to, may indicate that there is in fact something wrong.”

“There isn’t.” You insisted.

He nodded, thoughtful. “Very well. Expect mail in the next few days then.” He started to walk past you and your turned to yell after him.

“You didn’t even ask my name!”

“I’m pretty sure I can find it out with one quick google search. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” You leaned forward and stoped him with a hand on his wrist that would take minimal effort to remove. He stared at the spot where your fingers wrapped around him. Right below a watch.

You let go of him and took a step back. “Sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“The kiss. Explain.”

You bit into your lower lip. You have really fucked up. You had to tell him now, it was the least you could do. “Nichole Daniels.” You looked around to make sure she was really gone. “The girl who was passing by.”

He gave no indication of knowing who she was.

“Nichole has…” you moved a strand of hair out of you face. This is where it was going to get embarrassing. Complicated. Maybe even plain wrong. “I was briefly talking to this guy, the manager for our band. Tolkien Black. But Nichole and Tolkien have always sort of hit it off and—“ you huffed and shit your eyes. You almost wished you hadn’t, you could see it painted clear as day behind you lids. Nicole and Tolkien flirting while you were his date. They talked about endless topics. Something you’d failed to do with Tolkien. The night had ended with Tolkien following Nichole like a lost puppy. Whether it was with his eyes or physically. You physically cringed recalling the memory.

“To cut a fun story short,” you cringed, “Tolkien ended things with me and asked her out and she said no because she didn’t want to upset me. Girl code and stuff. But I know she really really likes him. She’s afraid to hurt my feelings even after I told her it’s fine and she wouldn’t believe me.”

Not to mention you over heard her marvelling about him to your friend Bebe. But she would never betray you. And she sounded so dejected and disappointed. Maybe even insecure.

“So I lied and told her I had a date here tonight. Because she’s literally my best friend and I’ve never see her so out of character. Plus, she really likes this guy and—“ you’d now realised you’d been rambling. And not even to just anyone, to Clyde Donovan. Someone who definitely couldn’t care less. You tried to sawlike but your mouth was dry.

“Ah.” His expression was completely unreadable.

“But I obviously don’t have a date. I honestly kind of forgot she would be here and see me and know I didn’t have a date so I panicked and acted on impulse and uhm well—you know.” You wiped a hand down your face. “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t think.”

Clyde didn’t say anything but it was clear to you that he was thinking.

“I just want her to believe have a date.”

He nodded. “So like any self-respecting woman, you kissed the first person you saw in a hallway. Logical.”

You leg out a pained whine. “Well when you put it like that, it probably wasn’t my best moment.”

“Probably not.”

“But it wasn’t my worst, either! Im pretty sure Nichole saw us. Now she’ll think I was on a date and she’ll hopefully feel like it’s okay for her to go out with Tolkien—“ you shook you head quickly. “Look in honesty so sorry about the kiss.”

“Are you?”

“Please don’t write a complaint about me. I really thought you said yes.”

Suddenly. All at once, everything set in. It fully dawned on you. It felt like a tonne of bricks. You had kissed a complete stranger, who then turned out to be the last person you wanted to kiss considering he had a reputation for being a notoriously unpleasant. And now that same guy was staring at you in an odd, pensive way that made you feel so small.

Shit.

Maybe it was that you were running on minimal sleep. Maybe it was that your last coffee had been far too long ago. Maybe it was Clyde Donovan looking at you, like that. All of a sudden this was all way too much.

“No no—actually you’re absolutely right. I am so so sorry if you felt like I was harassing you at any point please you should write a complaint about me. It was a horrible thing to do and I really didn’t want to. Not that my intentions mattered because it’s more of your perception of the situation that matters.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I’m going to go now. Thank you and I’m really sorry.” You spun on your heel and ran as fast as your legs could carry you.

“Y/N” you heard him call after you. “Y/N wait—“

You didn’t stop. You didn’t slow down you sprinted out of there as fast as your could and to your car. You were essentially running on pure adrenaline.

You got back to your shared apartment with Kyle as fast as you could and slumped down on your bed and it was only then it dawned on you.

Clyde Donovan—know ass—has called you by your name.

Masterlist

#south park #bounded smau #clyde donovan x reader #clyde donovan #tolkien black #nicole daniels

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