#and i still don’t hate him or anything but like. that’s not the character i was affectionate for and i don’t know what you’ve done with him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 days

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Hi Jade!!! I love, love, love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something for Tsam Peter x reader where reader has a concussion and Peter is just generally super sweet about taking care of them? I have a concussion right now and I feel like he would be so sweet about it. If not feel free to ignore this, love you!!! <3

i love u!! fem!reader, 1k

You’re shivering again. Peter looks up from his book suspiciously, squinting at the curve of your where you’re laying on his couch. He should let you rest —you’re allowed to sleep with a concussion, despite what some might think— but he doesn’t like the shivering. It’s weird.

“I'm coming, baby,” he says, standing up from the armchair to situate himself by your hips.

Peter pulls the blankets more firmly to your chin. “Are you cold, bub?” he asks. It might appear that he’s talking to you while you’re still sleeping, but the smile you give when he talks proves otherwise.

“No,” you force out in a mumble.

“Are you sure?”

It takes you some time to think about it. Your body’s been thrown for a loop since you hurt yourself, but you’re healing nicely, and your mental stamina is yards better than it had been. Peter asked you yesterday if you wanted a kiss and you couldn’t answer him for a full minute, and when you did it was an uncoordinated lift of your chin. You’re still in there, still his girl, just mildly incapacitated for the time being.

“I might be,” you decide.

Peter grabs a throw from under the coffee table and shakes it out over your arms and shoulders. “There. Need a drink?”

“Do you?” you ask.

“What?”

“You’re asking me lots of questions,” you say, slowly, quietly, but not without character. “I thought I’d ask one back.”

“I don’t need anything.” He tilts his head to align your faces, leaning in, not quite close enough to kiss you.

“You look very serious right now, Spider-Man.”

He glares for show. “So serious.”

“Sorry I can’t really make you a drink.”

Peter wipes the glare. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I don’t care that you can’t be my serf right now. When you’re better I’m gonna work you twice as hard, that’s all.”

You raise a tired hand to his jaw. You’re extra careful to offset your wonky hand, stroking a clumsy but tender line from his ear to his chin. “Can you help me up?”

Peter doesn’t question you. You’ve been recovering for a few days (he hasn’t realised before your injury that some people can take months to get better after a head injury, even without blood clots or fractures) and he’s not felt the urge to baby you beyond waiting on your every whim and want. If you’d like to sit up, that’s okay. The only thing he’d insist on is getting enough sleep at night, and thats something you’ll do happily.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching up at their starts. “I hate seeing you shiver, it makes me sad.”

“Makes you sad?”

He squeezes your elbow where the blankets have fallen down. “Is that surprising?”

You want to trade jokes with him but you can’t summon a retort, and your smile quickly fades. It can’t be nice, feeling a shade of yourself. Peter’s heart aches for you twice.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, slipping his arms under yours, encouraging you to wrap your own behind his head or let them rest behind his shoulders. He loves hugging you like this, almost lifting you, spider strength begging to be used as you sigh and settle into place against him. You feel a little like a shell of yourself, not quite quick with touches, fingertips twitching against his shoulder blade as he nuzzles his face against yours unabashed. “There you are. Where’d you go, huh? I was about to send out the search party.”

“I’m right here.”

“Yeah you are. Lucky me, right? Luckiest guy in the world.”

You sigh happily beside his ear, your face pitching slowly downward until it’s pressing against the curve of his neck, your arms slipping down his front as you run out of energy. He doesn’t mind, bundling you up with no intention of letting you go.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Still fuzzy, like… it’s like we’re talking to each other through a screen door.”

“Do you need something? Or want something? I’ll get you anything.”

“I’m fine.”

He lets out a sorry sigh. He wishes you’d want something, god knows he’d love to put a smile on your face. If you were feeling better you might ask him to go and get you something for dinner from across the city, or beg him to find you a bunch of flowers (which he’s always willing to buy). But sick, you ask for nothing. You just lay on the couch and wait to get better. Peter doesn’t think it’s super fair.

“I’m sorry you’re not better yet,” he murmurs, his lips drifting down to your temple, which he kisses weakly, the barest brush of his lips. “Wish I could take it from you.”

“I’ll be okay soon.”

“I know you will, but I still wish I could take it. It’s shitty.”

You think about this for a while. “It’s not shitty,” you work out finally, hand curling against his waist in a tired display of affection. “I have the… best boyfriend ever looking after me.”

“I’ll be here until you’re better, you know that.”

“I know.”

Peter ushers you back and lifts your blankets, slotting himself next to you with a careful arm held behind your back. You show some surprising excitement at the offering of a cuddle and work under his arm, shuffling down the couch to leave you both laying on the same cushion, blankets uneven but warm over your chests. “You should probably go back to sleep,” he says.

“Nap with me?” you ask, endearingly hopeful.

He turns his face, intending on drawing lines into your cheek with the tip of his nose until you either fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. “Sure, baby. I bet you’re exhausted, huh? Let’s sleep.”

He falls asleep before you, breathing snores into your cheek. You have enough wits about you to laugh, and then you fall asleep, too.

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 1 day

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Hiii can i request jamil, idia, riddle and leona have to fight with their s/o that been brainwashed (like a gas that brainswash ppl in a gas mask yk srry i cant explain things ;-;) by unknown enemy so they have to fight each other

Idia Shroud:

Horrible situation. Idia hated this trope. That’s not entirely true, watching the MC feel conflicted about fighting their love interest actually added a bit of interest into a story, but reality wasn’t the same. Idia didn’t feel anything ‘fun’ about this situation. Ortho was ready to take you down in an instant but Idia had stopped him, worried about him going overboard and potentially hurting you more than he needed to. He had already started to formulate a plan to overcome the brainwashing to at least subdue you, the only issue is mustering the courage to potentially hurt you himself during the process.

Idia has to tell you about how annoying that situation was after. He started ranting about games that just fell back on popular tropes for the sake of torturing their characters but eventually sighed, saying he had enough for an evening. He didn’t want to leave your side as much as he did want to disappear back into his room, wondering if there was a way to have you just stay in his room with him while you recovered.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is tired of his bad luck, tired of the only things that brought him joy being taken away from him and then thrown back in his face like it was no big deal. His surprise is clear and for a moment he does think he’s pushed you away too much, that you truly were sick of dealing with someone who would never be able to go after what he wanted. It’s your choice of using magic against him rather than your words (which would cut deeper than any physical wound to him) that showed him there was something more going on, with you being a puppet on strings for some other being. He wondered if his unique magic might steal you away from them but it would be a shot in the dark, since you were aware of his ability (while the ‘you’ in this brainwashed state might not be).

Jamil is frazzled but relieved the situation is over. Looking out for both you AND Kalim was an exhausting feat, and he didn’t know why he added to his never-ending workload. He’s glad you’re back to your normal self, which still seemed to regard him in a positive light, allowing him to push down his worries for the future of your relationship a little bit longer.

Leona Kingscholar:

There’s no one who knew your weaknesses better than Leona but he couldn’t assume this would be a walk in the park. He didn’t intend to hurt you but he’d do what he had to for the sake of this situation ending sooner rather than later. Apologies could always be given after but there’s only so much he could take, seeing you like this, invisible strings attached to your limbs as you’re forced to turn against him. If he had been quicker he would’ve saved you from the invasive feeling of having your body controlled while your consciousness is present, and he forced himself to focus on the task at hand rather than the hell you might be living in as it would only make him angrier.

Leona didn’t want to talk about it when you were back tomorrow. He hit you with an ‘it is what it is’ and moved on to your wounds, minor as they were there was still some scrapes you couldn’t get away from. You didn’t blame him and he didn’t blame himself, but he’s still not happy about having you turned against him. You were his, after all, and losing your loyalty even temporarily dealt a blow to his ego that he was desperate to keep hidden.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle is alarmed at how quickly the situation escalated, flinching when his words don’t seem to be reaching you. He’s not used to being on the other side of you in a fight, even if you were to practice magic with him it was never with ill intent. He finds himself fighting against being distracted, trying to think of you as a simple misbehaving student who needed to be collared. His unique magic did make it a little easier to wrangle you in but he’s wracked with guilt cutting you off from your magic when it’s not really your own actions that caused you to be punished.

Riddle is wary about talking with you after, until he knows the brainwashing is gone and you’re back to normal. He shuffled around the actual topic he wanted to bring up which was incredibly unlike him, a fact you pointed out before telling him in the kindest words possible to spit it out. He admitted seeing you brainwashed was disconcerted, and that he’d rather never see you as an enemy again. He knew it wasn’t your choice but he’d prefer you stick close to him in the future, just so he could stop the problem before it even began.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Riddle Rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #Jamil Viper #Idia Shroud #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #Idia Shroud x Reader

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neowonderland · 1 day

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Bully! Haechan + Breeding

Pairing: Bully Haechan x reader Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon, drugging, babytrapping, breeding Wc: 0.9k

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Haechan swears he hates you.

He swears he hates everything about you, from your full cheeks to your lips that you bite in concentration, to your soft voice, to the way you’re such a pushover for others, to the way you stumble over your words when you get nervous.

Haechan makes it apparent he hates you too, from the way he complains about you to anyone near him to the way he insults you. Haechan complains that you’re too much of a pushover, you’re too weak, you’re too annoying, you’re too pudgy, you’re too ugly. Of course Haechan makes it known that he thinks that way to your face too, always stating that your existence is an inconvenience to him, something that can’t be solved unless you were to fully disappear from this world because even if you transferred universities you’d still exist and inconvenience him.

You don’t remember much, remembering being dragged to a party by a couple of friends, spotting Haechan with his friend. You’re not sure which one of his friends had been flirting with you and handed you a drink that you had drunk. Maybe that’s when you had started feeling strange, head beginning to get dizzy, body burning up, memory blanking.

You can’t really remember how you ended up in Haechan’s bed, memories and head spinning as you lie and stare at the ceiling trying to ignore Haechan on top of you.

Haechan feels cold, his ice cold hands running across the expanse of your stomach and body, squeezing and groping at your flesh. It would feel nice against your flushed skin if it wasn’t Haechan. But, your heavy limbs and fuzzy head made it hard to fight back against his touches, leaving you pliant in Haechan’s hands.

“You’re such a slut, going to that party and flirting with Jaemin. Do you not get fucked enough? Is that why you went for my friend?” Haechan says mockingly.

You try to shake your head to no avail, leaving you to only stare at him.

Haechan lets out a laugh, hand gripping your cheeks and forcing you to nod, “That’s the correct answer. You’re lucky I’m great at doing charity. You know how many people would kill to be in your position?”

Haechan moves to run his tongue against your nipples, tongue laving over your sensitive skin before harshly sucking. Haechan works to mark the skin of your chest with red splotches and marks, teeth sinking into your skin alongside his sucking. He only stops to pull his shirt over his head, hands work quickly to take off his clothing and throw them to a corner of the room.

It’s not until Haechan’s marks run up your neck that Haechan stops, sitting back and proudly admiring his work. His hands reach for his phone halfway before freezing and withdrawing. You can hear him mumble “not this time.”

Haechan’s hands grip your legs, uncaring of the yelp you let out when he folds you in half. He presses against the back of your thighs with his arm while he lines himself up with your entrance. Haechan teases your entrance and your clit, covering his head with your slick. Alarm bells ring in your head and you try to tell him to stop, to use protection, to do anything but this but everything comes out unintelligible, garbled and slurred.

The stretch is painful without proper prep and it feels like you’re being divided into two when Haechan enters you. You’re in hell, helpless, burning up and in pain while it looks as if Haechan is in heaven. His eyes flutter shut while he lets out a loud moan. Haechan’s head dips down as he forces his eyes open to drink in your pained facial expression.

“If I knew your pussy would be so tight, I would’ve fucked you sooner.” Haechan says through gritted teeth as he begins to thrust into you shallowly. You can feel the drag of him in your walls and your body producing more slick, easing his thrusts. Whatever you had drunk seemed to be wearing off, allowing your fingers to dig into your palm to ground yourself.

“Look how wet you are, so ready for me. I knew you were a slut, getting off on me.” Haechan says as he increases his pace. You can feel him putting his weight on you, crushing you between him and the bed. You can feel the head of his length bashing against your cervix, his drooling tip crushing it in every thrust.

“Fuck I’m going to cum, going to breed you, going to knock you up. You’re going to be full of my cum and my kid. You’re going to look so much better round with my kid. You’ll be all mine. Everyone will know you’re mine. You won’t even think of leaving me.” Haechan babbles, shifting his weight completely on you.

It’s not until tears begin dripping down your face that Haechan cums with a shiver and whine, filling you up. Haechan moves your legs out of the way, collapsing onto you and burying his head into your neck.

It’s not until he rises and flips you on your stomach that you realize he wasn’t just babbling, that you’re in for a long night.

#nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #dark nct #nct dream x reader #nct smut #lee haechan #nct haechan #haechan hard hours #haechan x reader smut #haechan x reader #haechan smut #tw: noncon #tw: drugging #tw: breeding #haechan hard thoughts

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lightwise · 1 day

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“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them.

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.” Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are.

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances.

“You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.” A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.” After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock.

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.” Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.

“You’re safe SP-32.” Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not.

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone.

“And where did this child come from?” Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb emerie #dr hemlock #omega #tbb omega #tbb hemlock #emerie karr #dr emerie karr #tbb emerie karr #bad batch emerie

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nanaminokanojo · 2 days

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THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 110)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 110 next>>

A/N: Contains prose.

Joy. That’s what Gojo Satoru elicited in you. If there was a better word for it, a more appropriate permutation of words that described how he made you feel exactly, then it would probably be that. But that aside, your heart was filled with nothing but that very feeling even as you padded barefoot into your kitchen which was in shambles. Your mixing bowl lay in smithereens on the floor along with custard. Your stovetop would probably take ages to clean with all the splatters of cooked custard and butter. The counter was a mess with all the condiments he used, several unused utensils – just how many turners did he need? – and powdered sugar everywhere.

“Sweet cheeks!” he called out, looking up at you and stopping you from going in further, a broom on his hand. “Don’t come in here. T-there’s broken…” He looked silly with an apron on, his hair in disarray, held back by one of the fluffy headbands you usually used when you did your skincare. And weirdest of all, he was wearing one of your oversized shirts. Well, on you, that is. It looked like it was about to tear at the seams on him. You had to bite back laughter, seeing the dejected expression on his face. “What?”

You leaned against the fridge, crossing your arms, relishing in the absurdity of the situation. A person like Gojo Satoru was larger than life, meant to do great things, fly, not cook you breakfast – or attempt to – or clean your kitchen. Still, you enjoyed the scene and its domesticity, reminding you of that time in Hokkaido his mom caught the two of you playing with pancake batter. Now you doubted if he even made that, not that it mattered.

“Need help, handsome?”

He slowly shook his head, evidently sulking that you find amusement in his predicament. He wasn’t even holding the damn broom right. “No, I’ll clean up here. You stay in the living room.”

“You sure? You look like you’re in a pinch right now.”

At your taunting, he started whining, throwing the broom on the floor and walking over the mess on the floor to get to you, his lower lip jutting out even as he placed both his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him. “You’re being annoying today, baby. I’ll call one of our staff to clean up. The mess can wait.”

Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around him, using that as leverage as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Surprised at your sudden maneuver, he staggered backwards, supporting you on your thighs. You giggled at that, and though he said, “Extra annoying,” he still smiled giddily at you as he walked around your kitchen island. “You seem happy.”

“I am.”

Satoru sat you down on the island, the clean part anyway, and stood between your legs whilst he reached for the plate of French toasts he made, sliding it over the granite top. You looked down at it, grinning at the very nicely plated food before you, complete with sliced berries and perfectly smothered in snowy sugar.

“I can ignore the mess for the effort. Thank you.” You reached for the fork, but he stopped you, shaking his head. “No. You’re not doing anything today. My sweet cheeks will relax while I feed her, okay?”

“Can’t say I hate it.”

He took some of the toast, making sure it had all the elements in one bite as he held it before your mouth, this expectant look shining in his eyes when you finally opened up and tasted what he made. You chewed thoughtfully, nodding in approval. “Damn good French toasts, baby. A-plus.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. More.” You opened your mouth like a child much to his delight, more than glad to oblige. All the while, you just busied yourself with playing with the ears on the headband he was wearing, fully content in the little bubble you’ve both created in that corner of the kitchen where the morning sun shone just right on him.

“I got you orange juice, too. Wait, I’ll get it –” He moved back to get to the fridge, but you hooked your leg around him, stopping his progress and drawing him closer. Without preamble, you cupped his face, pressing your lips to his, intense from the get-go as you showed in actions just what you couldn’t tell him in words. You didn’t want him anywhere he is out of your reach, holding him in place by the nape while your other hand wandered down to the hem of his – your – shirt, tugging at it.

“Someone’s enjoying her breakfast too much,” he said as he heeded your unspoken command, pulling the garment off him. You swallowed hard, eyes wild as you took in every line and sinew of his musculature. “Well, this is infinitely better than breakfast.” You smirked when you saw his cheeks turn pink when he came closer, kissing you just as fervently as you did earlier.

You pawed at the ridiculous headband he was wearing, throwing it blindly somewhere in the kitchen. He slid the plate beside you further to the side as he grabbed your thighs, lifting them higher up his waist while you used your foot to push his sweatpants down, whining in frustration against his lips when you couldn’t quite get it off.

“Easy,” he spoke softly, eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing steady and warm against your cheek. He made quick work of pushing his sweats down, taking his cock out, pretty as always as he gave it a few pumps. “You want this, hmm?”

“Want you, Toru,” you moaned, catching his lower lip between your teeth, spurring him on. He reached between your thighs, running his thumb over the wet patch there, rubbing your clit over the fabric. “Didn’t know you wanted to make babies for breakfast.”

“Please, baby,” you whined, “Want you.”

“Someone’s needy,” he teased, but gave you what you wanted, pushing your panties to the side. “So wet for me.” He held his dick, running its pink tip through your folds and sliding in just a bit at a time before he’s pulling back, easing in agonizingly slow that your patience was fraying. He did just that for a few more moments until he finally pushed in all the way, stealing the breath from your lungs when he repeated the action, pulling all the way to the tip before slowly going back into your heat. “Fuck, baby.”

He set a rhythm that had you seeing stars, his name falling in high-pitched whines from your mouth, lost in the undeniable pleasure of it all. At some point, he adjusted his angle, hitting you in all the right places that had acid white flashes dominating your vision, feeling like you were going to float into space if it weren’t for the bruising hold he had on your hips.

“Harder,” you managed to choke out in the midst of you pretty much losing your mind with the way he was continuously hitting your sweet spot. “D-don’t stop – ah! Fuck – more – mmhhh…”

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good – so fucking good.”

“I’m c-close…”

“I know, baby, I know.” He leaned down, gently peppering kisses on your cheeks down to your jawline and wherever else he could reach, his hips and breaths turning erratic as he thrust in shallower, faster strokes, his moans and grunts mixing with yours as he brought you to your high, long and dragged out as he found his own, following after you with a drawn out groan, your fluttering hole milking him for all he’s worth.

The kitchen was filled with ragged breaths as you both came down from whatever heaven he catapulted you both to. Soft laughter soon mingled with it as the full realization of what you did finally hit you. Satoru pushed himself up, hovering over you while he regarded you with those mischief-filled eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I’m so damn in love with you, L/N Y/N. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You reached up as you pushed yourself to a sitting position, shivering slightly when he pulled out of you, your essences dripping on the tiles below you, but you couldn’t care less, kissing him stupid. “I love you, too.”

Satoru looked at you lovingly, seemingly drunk as he stood there, his forehead on yours as he cupped the side of your face. “Say you’ll stay with me for always. Say you’re not going anywhere I can’t see you.” He briefly pressed his lips onto yours. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Satoru. Yours alone.” You felt tears falling from your eyes as you pulled him closer, basking in the afterglow of your union. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/N: Almost done. I'm having separation anxiety huhuhu

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @to0ruu @shirabane @yell0wdreams @r0ckst4rjk @megtheebimbo @tmvll9 @kibananya @ti-mame @niko-ash @minzxec @sixxze

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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fabuloustrash05 · 20 hours

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Some of My TMNT Hot Takes (PART 2) 🔥

Warning: More Opinions

Part 1 Here

I don’t like that in Mutant Mayhem Donnie is not a “science guy” but instead is more of an anime and pop culture geek. I’m not against him being an anime fan (I love anime too) but I wish we saw more of his science and being a tech genius side instead of him just liking stereotypical “nerdy stuff”. If that makes sense.

I don’t like the Punk Frogs (any version).

The 87 crossover episodes in the 2012 series (as much as I did enjoy them & are great episodes) should not have happened. They leave no real impact or development to 2012’s overarching story and just waste time. These episodes could’ve covered more important things that 202 was desperately lacking like like character exploration and character dynamic development. It was just nostalgic fanservice. The arc in S5 specifically would’ve work better as a movie instead of a 3-4 episode arc in the (most likely non canon) final season.

Shinigami being Mikey’s second love interests ruins her character a bit (for me personally). That was a pointless decision that did NOT need to happen. She would’ve been our first recurring female character to not be a love interest, but nope!

People are allowed to like/ship Donnie x April in ROTTMNT (this is coming from someone who’s not crazy about April being shipped with the Turtles).

I ship Yuichi with 2012 Leo more than Rise Leo (still ship Rise Leoichi, but I just think 2012 Leoichi is way more interesting, plus 2012 Leo deserves a good love interest).

The humans in Mutant Mayhem look ugly af (I know that was probably an intentional design choice but still. It looks bad.)

I hate Raph x Casey (any ver). I’ve stated in part one that I don’t like Raph (any version) being in a romantic relationship with human characters and yes, that meant him with Casey. Not only that but Raph and Casey being a couple ruins their whole dynamic and iconic friendship I love so much. I’m all for friends to lovers but they are a line that should not be crossed. Not every friendship needs to turn romantic.

2012 Karai’s hair looks bad.

Fans often over exaggerate Rise Donnie’s character and badly mischaracterize him in fanfics and fan comics to the point it makes him feel like he’s an entirely different character.

Shinigami should have been revealed to be a villain.

Rise Donnie was just as mean to his brother as fans claim 2012 Raph was to his. Yes, they both do love their families and I’m NOT saying either of them are abus!ce (they’re not), but fans praising Rise Donnie for doing similar things fans criticize/hate 2012 Raph for doing just makes them hypocrites.

Venus does NOT need to be in every iteration of TMNT. It gets kind of annoying when fans keep on saying that she should be in all the other iterations when in truth her presence would not make sense based on the already established canon story. The only (recent) version of TMNT where I think her being included would’ve fit the best and deserved to make her comeback in is ROTTMNT.

The side plot of 2012 Karai being mutated and later getting brainwashed by Shredder was a waste of time and the most boring arc in the series.

2012 April, Donnie and Casey being in a poly relationship does not fix anything with their problematic dynamic and massive flaws with one another. I'm not saying you can't ship all three of them together, you do you! Idc But in reality their relationship would be a train wreck, that's why I personally don't ship 2012 Capriltello.

Renet is probably one of the most powerful allies the Turtles have in the 2012 series.

Rise Donnie would NOT hate 2012 April. He’d go crazy over her psychic powers and want to study them to help her explore them more.

From what I've seen so far, Leo x Usagi seems like the only GOOD ship in the 2003 series (this hot take might change tho).

Raph had the best character arc and development in the 2012 series and changed the most out of the four brothers. Next would be Leo. With Mikey and Donnie have little development (or none at all sadly).

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 2 hours

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Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups. Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing.

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes.

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up.

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too.

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry.

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee.

“Just doing a stock check.”

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls.

“He?”

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him.

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink.

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.”

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face.

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?”

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play.

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it.

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again.

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?”

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile.

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky.

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back.

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind.

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed.

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run.

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back.

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt.

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind.

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight.

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?”

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms.

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack.

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest.

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten.

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist.

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms.

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over.

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands.

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.”

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe?

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair.

An omega?

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide.

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe.

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky.

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose.

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin.

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly.

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife.

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before.

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch.

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them.

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them.

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling.

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!”

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body.

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused,

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin.

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing.

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more.

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing.

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level.

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly.

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply.

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin.

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly.

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again.

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door.

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both.

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home.

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away.

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over.

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.”

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest.

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea.

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side.

Steve and Sam could only stare.

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.”

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side.

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?”

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place.

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much.

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low.

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist.

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.”

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up.

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair.

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath.

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you.

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.”

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you.

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil.

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back.

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely.

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again.

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air.

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender.

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back.

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