#but every memory she has from there is fucking loaded

[007reid]

request for reader having dated spencer (early seasons) and then she finds out what happened w lila </3

hi hi hi!! sorry this took a while hun :( you were vague with your req so i just wrote whatever i wanted to write and because of that i meant for this to be a drabble but it didn't work out that way... enjoy!

secrets. spencer reid

part 1 | part 2

pairing: spencer reid x jealous fem!reader, 1.8k

summary: spencer will never be able to escape the effortless wrath of derek morgan, not even when it's the weekends and breaking bad is playing and you're pulling on his hair.

warnings: no smut you filthy animals, though i did intend there to be smut im just in a fluffy mood rn :// tiny angst if you squint, spencer's blushin a LOT, morgan's evil, bickering and just cutesy couple stuff. me when.

spencer’s secret was the last thing that you were, and you know this.

you and spencer have been dating for three months now, not including the two months talking stage because spencer is deadly afraid of commitment, and between all that time, you’d say you’ve gotten to know spencer pretty well. you know him well enough to trust that he knows what’s best, anyway. it’s been three months, and spencer hasn’t uttered a word about you to his team, his family, and you understand why.

really. you do.

“they’ll never let me live in down,” spencer had whined, one person imminent on his mind. derek fucking morgan. spencer dreads just thinking about it, the teasing, the inappropriate jokes, the winks and the whistles. it’s dehumanizing. “when someone ask me or mention something about it, i will tell them. until then…”

the unspoken reason was there. spencer’s a talker, definitely a talker, but he doesn’t spend much time talking about himself. he never reveals a bit of himself unless he’s directly asked it, and he feels uncomfortable sharing otherwise. the team’s too used to spencer being physically and emotionally repellent to the female race to really ask about stuff like you anymore, and spender’s not too eager to share neither. not out of the blue. it’s unlike him. this you understand. 100%. locked safely in the noggin.

you never think much about it anyway. it doesn’t bother you. what bothers you, though, is secrets.

you know spencer has loads of those, tucked behind that carefree and open-hearted smile and attitude of his. you examine him carefully, searching his face for ticks—okay, maybe you were just looking really creepily because he’s pretty and you try to commit every feature into memory but you are, searching for ticks that is.

you know he hides things. somethings not worth bringing up again because it’ll only bring up bad memories. some other things, however, definitely worth mentioning again. you just have to find the right target questions. sometimes it feels like you’re dating a stranger, with how little you know about spencer’s life. sometimes it feels like you’re dating the love of your life. it’s all very relative.

you and spencer are cuddled up on the couch, breaking bad playing on the tv. it’s one of the shows spencer doesn’t like pointing out the scientific inaccuracies of because he’s too fond of the main character to really say that he’s wrong, and sometimes you miss his voice chiming in between all the movie’s dialogues, but you think the reason why he’s quiet today is because he’s not in the mood to talk. the last case’s gotten him pretty shaken up, and he’s still healing, head in your neck every night and when he pulls away your skin is damp with tears.

“you okay spence?” you say, moving your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair. he hums softly, and then you both suddenly hear the vibration from under your asses. spencer shifts around, digging his phone out from where it’s lodged in a random cushion of the sofa.

he groans inwardly, showing you the screen, not having to explain. in big letters, the caller says: bau--derek morgan.

“he usually never calls me on weekends,” spencer frowns, watching the phone vibrate. “you think i should answer?”

“he’s a friend,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair under his ear. “answer him.”

“okay,” spencer says hesitantly, then swipes the green button on his screen. he clears his throat as the call connects. “you’re on speaker,” he warns, looking at you anxiously and then back to his phone again. morgan’s a wildcard, and spencer would have to hide his face everyday for the next three weeks in front of you if morgan happens to drop something embarrassing about him just out of pocket. spencer isn’t ready.

“not like there’s anyone with you to hear,” morgan scoffs, and didn’t let spencer answer before continuing. “the team’s planning on a bar night tomorrow—“

“the team?” spencer questions, suspicious. morgan sighs loudly.

“garcia and i,” he corrects reluctantly, “are planning for a team bonding night tomorrow. what do you say?”

“no.” spencer says immediately, looking at you and hope you get his unspoken answer. spencer never goes out on weekends, not unless it’s with you. with his highly demanding schedule at the bau, it’s rare that he has any time off at all, and it’s hard to maintain a healthy relationship that way. any time he gets to spend time with you he’d take.

“come on,” morgan says, enthusiastically. “when was the last time you properly went out, huh?”

“last month, when you and garcia planned another of these team bonding bar nights,” spencer says monotonously. he rolls his eyes. “morgan—“

“don’t be rolling your eyes at me now, genius,” morgan warns. you stifle a laugh, and spencer sends you a wounded look. you forget that they’re basically family, like siblings to knows each other to a tee. “listen, have some fun in your life. who knows, maybe we can find you another lila at the bar.” morgan’s tone is suggestive. and now, that got your full, undivided attention.

and spencer, predictably, looks like a deer caught in the headlights, looking at you in horror was you narrow your eyes at his screen. you prod at his leg, prompting him to answer so morgan can elaborate.

lila?

“i don’t think—“ spencer starts, but got immediately cut off.

“don’t lie and say you didn’t like it, lover boy,” morgan whistles and spencer cringes. “now that we’re talking about lila, actually—“ spencer’s mind is screaming, shut up shut up shut up! as morgan proceeds to feed you more information, completely oblivious to his sins. “do you guys still keep in touch? she looked pretty into you. never knew you had it in you til then, man--”

by now spencer’s beet red head to ears to toe and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, but also off of yourself. you’d say you’re a jealous woman. not too jealous but definitely not not jealous.

“morgan,” spencer starts again, voice a little wobbly and embarrassed and morgan laughs.

“seriously though, do you guys still talk? them eyes never lie,” and morgan sounds so casual, so nonchalant while destroying spencer’s life.

it’s not that spencer doesn’t want you to know about lila. he couldn’t careless if lila waltz into his life right now because he knows they would be nothing more than friends—you’re all he’s ever wanted and he would trade you for nothing. it’s just embarrassing, is all, him being exposed like this, and he feels smaller, feels like he’s actually 5’3 with the glare you’re sending him.

“anyway, that don’t matter,” morgan remains completely ignorant and in his own world and still on speaker. oh morgan. “i want to see you at our bar tomorrow. it’s a yes, right? good. i’ll tell garcia you said yes.”

“morgan!” spencer says quickly. “i have a gir—“

morgan hangs up.

spencer dreads looking at you, so he takes his time getting out the app and then clears all of the background apps on his phone. he doesn’t like seeing you mad and he can basically sense it, the fumes blowing out your ears.

“who’s lila?” you say casually and he looks up. he doesn’t mistake your tone for friendliness, your eyes are narrow and suspicious.

“someone on a case a while ago,” spencer responds honestly. because that’s all there was to lila. it’s not like he’s never had his first kiss before her, so she doesn’t even count as his first kiss (she’s his second) and other than that minute-long moment they shared there was nothing else remarkable. she just happens to the only girl the team knows about who’s spencer been involved with and they are encouraging to help him find another ‘lila.’

it’s all very complicated. and humiliating. he should’ve definitely told you the entire backstory beforehand, because it’s not scandalous or weird or anything. it’s innocent and harmless. but now the problem seems to be blown out of proportion.

“just someone?” you press. spencer hesitates. he hates lying, especially when he’s lying to you. his hesitation gives you all the answer you needed.

“we kissed once,” he says, and gawks at you for approval, for forgiveness. “but that was it. i swear.”

something awful bubbles in your stomach. you know spencer’s not lying, and it’s not worth getting upset with him about because it’s all in the past—it’s not like you go talking about your precious conquests to spencer anyway. but you can’t help the envy and jealousy boiling so hotly it makes you dizzy.

spencer feels obliged to fill you in, to patch up the little bump and to get back the sweet atmosphere that was before morgan called. he knew morgan would somehow manage to ruin his life in some kind of way. he knew it before he even accepted his call.

“she was an actress in this case we were working on and she just, i think, really liked me or something and she was in a pool when i came to see her just to ask some questions and she just pulled me—“

his rant got interrupted by you seizing him to a rough kiss, hands coming up to rest behind the nape of his neck and nails unconsciously digging into his skin. spencer remains mostly unresponsive and soft, surprised and don't know how to respond. you keep prying, teeth digging into the soft of his bottom lip and spencer starts nipping at you back, gentle like he always is.

it frustrates you, how hard it is to be frustrated at spencer. you pull away from him and spencer tilts his head curiously, lip shiny and eyes looking at you like he's never seen you before and he just looks so sweet, so innocent and eager, like a precious pup. you roll your eyes, swatting at his chest, annoyance and jealousy and anger evaporating from you like a cloud.

spencer licks his lips and you collapse back into him again, returning to the position you were before morgan so unmindfully interrupted your weekend. breaking bad continues to play on the tv. long limbs wraps around you and spencer presses a kiss in your hair.

"i'm not going tomorrow," he declares.

"you should," you say nonchalantly. you cuddle up closer to him, turning around until the both of your are facing each other, wiggling your way on top. you begin to trace stars on the exposed skin of his shoulder. "and maybe you should bring someone with you. just to act as a guard for future lila's. maybe you can introduce that person too," you flick your hair behind your back and shrugs at spencer's amused smile. "it's just a thought."

"okay," he says quietly, eyes so soft. "okay. who do you suggest i bring?"

"that's for you to figure out, doctor reid," you say flippantly, turning back to the tv. "now shush."

#yeah you could really tell that the smut was bubbling to happen in this one #oh well #spencer reid #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #my works

[reveluving]

you know what I just thought of? Shy wife is used to going to neighbour cookouts and gatherings alone since Graves is often away. She gets hit on quite a bit but always reminds everyone she’s very happily married (I mean haven’t they seen the rock on her finger?)

Then one day she finally shows up with Phil at one of those gatherings and he’s so confident his relationship with her, he can’t help but laugh at those guys cause he knows she only has eyes for him 😌 (he prolly proceeds to fuck her within an inch of her life lbr)

Also completely unrelated but shy wife getting a tiny discreet tattoo of his initials or their last name, and he discovers it while fucking her after getting back from a mission

-🍬

*Rubbing my hands together like a villain* I kicked my feet in the air the second I received this!!! You, my dearest, are a MASTERMIND 🙏🏼😩

Includes: brief smut at the end (minors DNI!), petnames (‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty girl’), mentions of possessive!phil, you get a lil’ tatt for him, slight humour & loads of fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Whether you’d like to imagine it while you’re Phil’s wife or fiancée, I’d like to imagine the latter more, since engagement rings tend to look more upscale than wedding bands. So imagine the immediate (but not enough) sting one would feel as soon as they boldly come up to you, hoping for a chance. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the large diamond cut around your finger, twinkling even at the smallest movements. 

It usually drives them away, but you’ll also have insistent ones, keen on making you sway while they nurse their injured pride to health.

Or even when married, no doubt Phil gets you the most out-there-looking band—why should he settle for less for any occasion, after all?

For Phil, he’d rather be caught dead in a ditch than potentially lose his actual ring on the battlefield. It’s why he has a silicone wedding band instead, personally chosen by you, thus why it’s almost as special as his main one. While he’d rather not potentially let a single scratch on his actual band, he still wants a part of you with him. Remind him of the memories you’ve made and will make every time he comes home. 

But on the other hand, it’s a possession thing.

Phil’s confidence in your relationship is just as massive as him carrying himself to the world, so the ring is more of a warning, as mentioned before, to those thinking they’d even have a grain of chance with you. He knows people take advantage of beautiful sweethearts like you because as soon as you give them a crumb of attention, you can only hope someone saves you from their infernal yapping.

The best part about it, to Phil, is that you don’t mind feeding his ego, just as he lives for them like a dog showering in its owner’s praises, because you know he achieves them all, be it his work or otherwise. But God knows if the men flirting with you were being truthful about the little stories they’ve conjured up to impress you.

Plus, you prefer Phil’s attention over theirs, absolutely no competition.

Especially when Phil finds the time (read: makes sure) to attend these cookouts.

Even if he doesn’t frequent to them as much as you do, he’s a household name. Literally. The hosts of the cookouts, Rick and his wife greet you like you’ve known each other for years; the same pair who’d save you from your demise each time they’d realize you were dragged into a one-sided or possibly uncomfortable conversation.

Phil is rare to be seen without you by his side, and none of you minded. A symbiotic system as Phil gets to flaunt you to all the desperate guys out there while playing guard dog. With unamused looks and sharp glares or even condescending smiles when they realize that he is the infamous Phillip Graves you and the hosts have been talking about. Somehow he knows which of them to send his warnings to, even if you’ve never given him their description.

"I did promise the missus I'd come one day." Phil joked with the group when Rick and his wife teased him for finally coming over, pulling you close to his side because he knew they were watching. You didn't, well, couldn't (not that you wanted to very much) spare even a second for them when your husband naturally had your attention.

And you get to seek comfort from him. Plus, it’s ten times fun with each other in these gatherings. Good food, good conversation and best of all, good company.

Now, tattoos. Ah, tattoos.

I imagine you’ve been considering one for a while and without his knowledge. Only because you know he’d be nosey enough to be able to draw an answer out of you. It takes a bit of time though, largely due to the commitment of it. You want one, of course, but to have one, you’ll want one that’s truly meaningful.

Should it be Graves or just G? Or should you opt for P.G. instead? What font would you want, how big would it be and where?

Even when you’ve finalised your answers, there’s a lingering bit of fear that it won’t be to your or his liking. But you’ve known the man long enough to know that so long that your heart belonged to him, cherished and cared for, you knew his heart will always belong to you too.

A small, single ‘G’ tattooed on your wrist in a flourish font. I initially thought of a finger tattoo but I heard not many artists recommend it, but that's beside the point! 

Just imagine him coming home after a tough time at work, pent-up until he has his wife underneath him. He only notices the ink on your wrist as his fingers interlock with yours. He slows his thrusts, but not he's stopping either.

If anything it reaches deeper into you when he realizes what the tattoo indicates.

“Pretty girl,” He purrs, pinning your wrist to brush his lips along the semi-sensitive spot. There's something about the way he carefully presses his lips to your pulse, only for his eyes to flit to your glassy ones with such danger. Such passion.

Such… eagerness.

“Didn't tell me y‘had a surprise.” The way surged his hips forward rather suddenly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a petulant pout had your lips parting, letting out a shaky moan even before you could protest. 

“I–I wanted to…” You whined, silently begging him not to stop with your feet against his back, even if it fogged your mind from thinking straight, from making sense as you spoke, “I had it… L–Last month...” 

It has Phil feel some type of way—the best way, that is. If seeing his love handling her wedding ring with much care doesn't make him go crazy already, then this definitely would. Be prepared to have your hands pinned, be it to the bed, the wall, in the shower, wherever, whenever, so long they—both the tattoo and the ring, face him for a little while.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #eyes locked hands locked series #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x f!reader #phillip graves x you #graves cod #cod graves #graves x reader #graves x f!reader #graves x you #commander graves #commander graves x reader #commander graves x f!reader #commander graves x you #commander phillip graves #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod mw #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwiii #cod mw3

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader

[chvoswxtch]

Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore. 

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes. 

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself. 

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith wakes up with terror turning to ice in his veins and his brother’s name clawing its way out of his throat.

He takes a moment, chest heaving, to orient himself. The details of the dream quickly fade, dark caves and towering footsteps, leaving only an impression of fear and the memory of Shiro, falling, crying out for Keith to save him, and Keith being just too late. He peels the sweat-soaked sheets off himself in disgust, tossing them haphazardly on the ground in front of him. Grunting, he forces himself upright, placing his feet on the cold tile floor of his bedroom to force himself fully awake. Sunlight streams through his window, assaulting his bleary eyes, making him grumble as he walks over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Not unusually, his nightmares have woken him hours before he really needs to be awake. He only has one afternoon class, today, and it's frustrating to have one of his few mornings off spoiled so early. As he spits frothy toothpaste into the sink, he tries to rework the whole situation in his mind. Waking up too early sucks, but with the extra time this morning, he’ll have time to wash his sheets. That’s a net neutral, at least.

It doesn’t take him too long to gather up a load of linens and clothes, tossing them into the machine, sipping a coffee as the old thing chugs on. He hangs them to dry once the cycle is over, tossing some overdue marking into his messenger bag and scarfing down a bagel before hopping onto his bike.

His bicycle, that is. He would never take his precious bike to class. The one and only time he had, it had been vandalised by angry students. Never again.

The ride to the school is uneventful, normal, boring. Even the asshole drivers who refuse to give him space on the road, coming within inches of crushing him, are par for the course. He wonders if he looks particularly dead-eyed, or if that’s just how he feels.

“Hey, Pidge,” he says to his lab assistant, nodding at her as he walks into their lab. She shouldn’t even be his lab assistant, really. She’s more brilliant than he’ll ever be, and it’s insulting that she has to answer to him. But she’s only twenty, and whip smart as she is, their field is ripe with rich old white guys who smile condescendingly at her and call her sweetheart. No one will give her a tenured position. So while not ideal, their situation is the best both of them can come up with: Pidge gets total freedom in his lab, any resource that she wants and he can get his hands on, and he’ll publish any finding she discovers with her name as a second on the paper. That way she’ll be credited with dozens of peer-reviewed papers before she even has her doctorate, and once she’s finally got a lab of her own and every intellectual around the globe is interviewing her, she can tell them all where to stuff it and get all the credit she deserves.

“Bad news, Kogane,” Pidge says, glancing up at him with a furrowed brow.

Keith grimaces. If Pidge is looking up from her computer screen, then he’s fucked.

“Is the building on fire?” he says hopefully. That’s a slightly less miserable conclusion than the one he knows is happening.

She huffs sadly, shaking her head. “Nah, check the douchebag waiting in your office.”

Sighing, Keith does. James Griffin, head of the geography department and the resident jackass who’s been trying to shut Keith down for years.

“Keith!” he cries, grinning at him like they’re friends.

Keith doesn’t even pretend to smile at him, staring at him blankly.

“Good to see you, pal,” James continues, either oblivious or uncaring. “Thought I’d drop by and personally deliver the news. I’m getting a new office!”

The absurdity of the sentence makes Keith blink, looking at James in confusion. “Pardon?”

James ignores him, pulling out a tape measure and holding it against the cabinets and counters, barely even making any real effort to measure anything. Keith finally starts to notice the smugness to his department head’s grin, and something like dread builds in his stomach.

“See, progressive volcanology just isn’t what it used to be. Ten years ago it was breakthrough science, today it’s an ancient relic of the past.” He snaps the tape measure closed, turning back to face Keith. He no longer makes any effort to hide his smirk, placing a falsely pitying hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith shrugs it off immediately. “They’re shuttin’ ya down, bud. I’m taking the space. I’m sure you myriad of adoring students will be devastated, but budget cuts are budget cuts, and this is a decision the department has to make. For the good of the university, you understand.”

Keith knows that pleading is useless. In all likelihood, this decision was made months ago, and he’s only hearing about it now because it’s been finalised. No way would James be so confident otherwise.

But there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from trying.

“You can’t shut us down,” he pleads, throat unfathomably dry. “We’re – we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, James, I can feel it, shutting us down would be spitting in the face of progress –”

“How many of your sensors are even still active?” James interrupts. “One? Two?”

He sounds so smug that Keith can’t bear it. “Three!”

“Right,” James says, snorting. “Three whole sensors.” He turns away, patting one of the overhanging shelves of the wall, crowded from front to back with dozens and dozens of rock samples slowly collecting dust. “It’s not worth the money it takes to keep them going.”

“You can’t do this,” Keith begs, voice quiet and small. He hates himself for his weakness in front of James, of all people in the world, but his hands shake and his blood rushes in his ears and the only thought running through his mind is save the lab save the lab save the lab. “It’s all I have left. Of him.”

To James’ credit, that gives him pause. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a monster.

“It’s been ten years, man,” he says softly. “The lab isn’t going to bring him back.”

Keith says nothing. He stares at him, eyes hard, hatred and pain alike building up in them and spilling over.

Shiro’s sensors. Shiro’s work. Shiro, all over the lab, in every way, the only pieces Keith has of him that are still going, that are not stagnant, and James is taking them away. Whether or not it’s James’ fault directly is irrelevant – Keith hates him for any role he plays.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” James says, and he almost sounds sincere before disappearing out of the lab and down the hall.

Keith sits down heavily in his – in Shiro’s – rickety old office chair as he goes, elbows on the crowded desk, fingers clenched in his hair. Pidge puts a gentle and awkward hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter.

— — —

His classes pass in a blur. None of his students even pretend to pay attention, but that’s not unusual. He can’t remember the last time someone came into his classroom and gave even one eighth of a shit. Hell, the last person in his class to care might have been Pidge.

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted. He dreads the bike ride home, knowing it will take more energy than he has, but he tries to convince himself that the fresh air might make him feel less like the world is collapsing in on itself.

He fails.

By the time he stumbles through the door, late afternoon light spilling over his messy coffee table, he feels like a used battery from 1996. He slides the scattered change he’d found on the road today into one of his near-filled collection bottles and collapses on the couch, face-first, groaning as loud as he can into a scratchy pillow. He blindly flails one arm around until it hits the beeping answering machine, letting it play its onslaught of messages, preparing to delete whatever spam calls have made it through while he was gone.

“Keith, hey. It’s Adam. Just calling to remind you that today’s the day! We just left, we’ll be there around quarter to six? Hopefully. See you soon.”

With a gasp, Keith yanks himself upright with so much force he nearly throws himself off the couch.

Adam.

Adam!

The next message plays automatically. “Hey, got your answering machine again. Getting a little worried. We’re halfway there, and we can’t wait to see you. Right, kiddo?”

A much younger voice mutters something unintelligible, but the tone makes their enthusiasm – or lack thereof – abundantly clear.

Keith sweeps a bunch of junk off his coffee table, frantically searching for his calendar. He finds it under a stack of half-finished books, praying to himself that what he’s hearing is wrong somehow, and today is not the day he thinks it is.

In bold red ben, in the tiny square of the 28th of June, is his niece’s name written in capital letters and underlined no less than five times.

“Hana,” he breathes, and looks in horror at his watch just as the answering machine beeps and plays the newest message.

“Alright, well, we’re ten minutes away, so I hope everything’s okay. Please be ready.”

“Fuck!” Keith shouts, jumping up off the couch and catapulting into action. He can’t believe he forgot! It’s so easy for all the days to blur together, for dates to lose meaning, when everything is so mundane. He’s been thinking that Hana’s visit is ‘months away’ for half a year now, completely forgetting that time is, in fact, linear.

Adam is going to kill him. And worst of all, he is going to be justified.

He starts scooping random shit off end tables and random surfaces, sticking it wherever there’s space. Adam is a neat freak, always has been, and if he looks through that front door and sees the mess he is about to leave his only daughter in for ten whole days he is going to take it out on Keith’s hide. Keith shoves a random stack of cereal bowls into a drawer, stuffs a cabinet full of old newspapers, kicks a pile of discarded sweaters into a corner and throws a blanket over them. His answering machine beeps again, and he whips his head to his clock, watching in horror as the big hand ticks to the 9 – it’s five forty-five on the dot.

“Hope you’re home, Keith, because we’re pulling up to your place.”

A silver car slows to a stop across the street.

“Fuck!”

Keith increases his half-assed cleaning tenfold. He dumps every dish he sees into the sink, hacks up a lung from trying to blow away the accumulated dust, glances in the fridge to see what expired food he needs to toss. Is Adam going to search through his fridge? Probably not.

But there’s a chance.

He sees his brother-in-law approach the front door as he’s holding a stack of greasy car parts and freezes, slowly backing away as the man turns and makes a face at the car. Keith hears the doorbell ring but ignores it, figuring he has about three more rings to panic-clean before Adam gets fed up and picks the lock. He rushes to his bedroom, grabbing the truly gigantic quilt Pidge’s brother had made him, and throws it over his couch, coffee table, and armchair in a half-assed attempt to make the room look less like Keith has not cleaned in several weeks.

It does not work.

The doorbell rings for a third time, followed by rapid knocking.

“Keith? You home?”

Keith takes a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face.

Fine. This is going to be fine.

“Hey, Adam!” he greets, opening the door. Adam glances behind him, taking in the mess, so Keith quickly closes the door as much as he can without squishing himself.

Unfortunately, Adam has always been quick. He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You forgot, didn’t you.”

“Forget?” Keith laughs nervously. “Of course I didn’t – I didn’t forget! Been looking forward to this for weeks, counting down the days, just been prepping like you would not believe –”

Adam takes off his glasses, cleaning them slowly while making direct eye contact.

Keith sighs.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

“Come on, Keith,” Adam sighs, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We planned this months ago. Ten days. That’s all I ask. She’s your niece.”

“Just because I forgot doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to it!” Keith says defensively. “I haven’t seen her since she was what, nine?”

“Seven,” Adam corrects flatly.

Keith winces. “Right. Seven.” He follows his brother-in-law to his car, forcing himself not to drag his feet. He is excited. He is. He loves his niece, and besides, it’s only ten days. What can happen in ten days?

“Hana,” Adam says, knocking on the roof of the car. “Say hi to your uncle.”

“Hi to your uncle,” deadpans a young girl, pulling her beanie further down over her eyes and sinking into her seat. Adam sighs, heading to the trunk to dig out some bags, and Keith has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He probably shouldn’t laugh when teenagers are being little shits, but that was kind of funny.

“Hey, kid,” Keith says, in the same semi-awkward tone he used to talk to Pidge in until she started decking him every time he did. He inclines his head at the device in her hands. “Whatcha got there? One of those ePod thingies?”

The look she gives him is so dry and judgemental that Keith almost feels the need to both apologise and pull out a fiver to pay for the stupidity of his sentence, which is honestly an insanely powerful look for a thirteen year old to pull off.

Only Adam’s kid, honestly.

“It’s a PSP,” she says, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world and Keith is a dunce for not knowing. “And ePods aren’t a thing. The word you’re looking for is iPod.”

Lordie, this is going to be a tough ten days. Keith should have researched how to make teenagers like him.

Well. Maybe not. That would probably get him on a list somewhere.

“It’s good to see you, Hana,” Keith says, switching gears. He smiles slightly, and it's genuine, because he really is glad to see her. “You wanna head inside? Door’s open, I’ll meet you in a few.”

“Come see me first, baby,” Adam calls.

Hana huffs and walks over to see her dad. He hands her a duffel bag, which she shrugs over her shoulder, and then cups her face tightly, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Ten days, okay?” he murmurs. “Then I’ll meet you in the Ottawa airport.” He squeezes her in a hug, which she returns, if slightly reluctantly. “This move will be good for us.”

“Right,” Hana says, so bitter that Keith actually physically winces. “I am so pumped to leave behind everything I’ve ever known and go live in a new country. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Without so much as a backwards glance at her father, she pulls away and stomps inside to Keith’s place.

“Yikes,” Keith says, grimacing at his brother-in-law. Adam isn’t looking at him, gaze following his daughter with an expression Keith can only describe as pained. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just staring at the house, eyes far-away and deeply sad. Keith’s chest starts to ache, right under his sternum, because he gets that look, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” Adam says softly. “I’m just — I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.” And it’s been months since they’ve talked anything but surface level pleasantries but they will always be the same, Keith thinks, and he reaches over and squeezes Adam’s hand because he will always be family. Adam squeezes back, smiling tightly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Keith promises. He swallows against the sandpaper roughness of his throat and tries to stand up straight, to make up for his crumpled shirt and messy hair. The attemlt makes Adam roll his eyes, which makes Keith grin. Adam can never stay mad at him for long.

“I know you will, brat.” He cups Keith’s cheeks identically to the way he did Hana’s, tipping over to kiss his forehead. Keith’s eyes close and his hands come up to grab Adam’s wrists. “I trust you. I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

He pulls away and Keith lets him go, watching the easy way in which he composes himself, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket and pushing up his jacket, putting himself back together in front of Keith’s eyes. The process has fascinated him since he was little; the way Adam can always pull himself back to full height.

“Besides,” he adds, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and heading for the passenger side. “You have my daughter to look after, now. If she comes home to me in ten days complaining about doing the dishes because Uncle Keith just eats pasta out of the pot, I will fly back here just to smack you.”

Keith snorts. “Noted. Drive safe, Adam.”

He waves as he shuts the door and starts the car. Keith watches him go, then turns back towards his house, peering through the door, looking for a glimpse of the kid. He doesn’t see her, but he can hear the muted sounds of a video game from outside.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” he mutters to himself, and walks inside.

#I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO RELEASE THIS AU #this is my favourite movie of all TIME y’all don’t understand #anyways #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #adam shirogane #hana shirogane #adashi #keith & shiro #keith & adam #keith & pidge #pidge #pidge holt #keith & hana #modern au #journey to the centre of the earth au #JTTCOTE au #keith angst #my writing #longpost #lance is coming!!!!!

[lustspren]

Open, Pandora ft. Soyeon

length: 7k words of pure smut.✦

Soyeon & Male Reader.

genres:  anal, hard sex, bdsm, blowjob, oral sex, creampie, shower sex, dirty talk, facefuck, facial✧ 

(The Judge sequel, and a requested comission.)

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Almost a year has passed since your "incident" with Jeon Soyeon. Your life continued with it's natural course, you two didn't even keep in touch during all that time, so you started to think that she had simply forgotten about you; but you had no problem with it, you understood it perfectly, especially considering that her life was more than busy at that moment: comeback, promotions, awards, concerts. It was evident that she wouldn't have time to meet someone so foreign to her social circle. 

You tried every day to get her out of your head, constantly convincing yourself in vain that her call wasn’t going to come, that you had only been a "one night stand" and that's it, but the constant memory of your pelvis slamming violently against her ass, and the large load that then spilled onto the ground directly from her hole to the ground prevented any kind of progress on it.

The weekend was normal like any other, your routine wasn’t out of the ordinary on Friday or Saturday, you spent all day at home playing video games or reading a book, and one of your coworkers had visited you to chat, but in general, simple monotony. You weren’t a person who frequented many places in which to socialize, it could be said that it wasn’t your thing, you preferred the comfort of your home, and calm places in which to be able to do your things without unnecessary hindrances. The only way to get you out of your house was with an incentive that really interested you, it could be an activity, or a person.

10:13 p.m. You were lying in your bed playing Hades on the Switch, already in your pajamas, under the unchanging softness of your sheets, when your phone rang. Seeing who it was almost made you throw the console off the bedroom ceiling.

--The Judge--. Jeon Soyeon. You had kept her contact with that nickname for a simple security issue, which was stupid since you were sure that absolutely nobody cared who you had among your contacts, but that was her.

You didn't want to answer right away to look like a loser, so you waited a few seconds looking at the screen until you finally swiped the green button.

"Hello?" you answered.

"Ah, hello, sorry to call so late, but the truth is that I don't care either," Soyeon's unmistakable high-pitched voice answered you on the other end.

"I was starting to think you'd forgotten me," you got up from the bed and wandered around your room.

"I did, yes," she admitted, which broke your heart a little, "but it was a hard fucking year for me."

"Oh yeah, I could tell by how you were throwing shit at Mnet on national TV, it was brilliant."

"But they deserved it, right?" she gave a small giggle.

"They deserve to go bankrupt along with your shitty company," you laughed back.

"They're lucky I keep them alive, without me they're nothing," that was the most self-centered and pretentious comment you'd ever heard come out of her mouth, but it wasn't a lie either.

"Wah, how modest," you teased, "well, how have you been?"

"Hm, why don't you come over and you know... we talk about it?" she invited you, with a silkier and sexier voice than usual.

"Yes!" you agreed to the millisecond in the excitement of the moment, you even gave a little jump, "I mean, yes," you calmed down, "pass me your location and I'll be there in a moment."

"Very well, I'll wait for you here, sweetie," said this, she hung up, and after a few seconds you received her message.

You threw your phone on the bed and moved like lightning through every corner of your bedroom to get dressed, you didn't know what the hell to wear for such an occasion, and your bedroom soon became a hovel because of how messy it was. It took you a long time to get something that convinced you, and even when you were already dressed, you felt that even that wasn’t enough to be up to Soyeon's standards.

You asked for a taxi and left your apartment quickly, you had everything you needed, your phone, your keys, your wallet, and above all, your desire to fuck one of the most talented women in the industry. You ordered the driver to go as fast as possible, after all, you didn't want to keep her waiting. A little less than 10 minutes passed when you were finally in front of the residential complex where Jeon Soyeon was staying. You got out of the car, and you stood at the outside gate.

--I'm outside-- you texted her.

--On my way.-- she instantly replied .

After a few minutes she came out of the building to meet you, wearing a black hoodie that was almost to her knees, the hood up and a mask for obvious reasons.

"What's up, you look cute," she said as she opened the gate for you, to walk back into the building.

"Thanks, um... you too?" you followed her, while you saw the garden and the fountain to the right of the path by which you passed.

"Wait until we get inside and then tell me that, I had to put this damn thing on just to get out for a second."

You followed Soyeon into the apartment and then to the elevator, up to the fourth floor, and then through a few meters of the corridor until you reached the door of her apartment. Just as you expected, Soyeon's apartment was not modest at all, in fact, it was quite large compared to yours; she took your hand, and led you into the living room, where she had a macbook on a coffee table, along with two speakers and a midi keyboard.

"Sorry about the mess, I was working on something, have a seat if you want," she said as she closed the macbook and gathered everything from the coffee table to go put it away.

You sat on the wide and soft white sofa while you took a look at your surroundings, the apartment was big, but it was obvious that Soyeon was a fairly tidy and simple girl, with only the necessary luxuries. Without a doubt what caught your attention the most was the sound system installed there, with speakers located at strategic points in each corner of the room, you wondered if this was where the magic happened first.

You didn't have time to think about it before Soyeon came back and almost made your eyes pop out of their sockets, she had already taken off her hoodie, showing her true outfit. She had a blue sweater crop top, black leather boots and what drove you crazy the most, a short jean skirt, that showed off her beautiful long legs, that, combined with her sexy exposed midriff, blew your mind.

"My god, you look amazing," you said almost instinctively, not ignoring the fact that she had short blonde hair and looked like she was born with it.

"I know, right?" she put her hands in the pockets of her skirt and made a slow 360 degree turn so that you could see her very well, "Do you want coffee? It's the best I can offer you, I haven't been drinking alcohol lately."

"Sure, I love coffee," you smiled kindly, and she left for a few seconds to return with a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which she placed on the table in front of you.

"There you go," she sat down next to you, closer than you'd expect, and she pulled one of her legs up onto your thigh, "and well? What were we up to?" her elbow rested on the back of her sofa and her cheek rested on her hand as she watched you.

"Oh yeah," you reached out to take the cup and take a sip of coffee, "I was asking how you've been," you turned to meet her gaze.

"Well, it's been quite a bittersweet year, as a group we did great, but you know how this industry is," she sighed, "you can't have 5 straight months of peace of mind."

"Yeah, I can tell," you agreed, "but hey, Tomboy and Nude were fucking bops," you took another sip of coffee.

"I appreciate it, but that doesn't mean that I've spent 80% of the year with stress headaches," she took the cup from your hands, to also take a sip of coffee, then put it back on the table, "and you know what I do to de-stress… right?" with a quick and agile movement, Soyeon climbed onto your lap, then placed her hands on your shoulders, and gently caressed them.

The sudden attack took you by surprise, so it took you a while to play along and put your hands on her bare waist, gently squeezing the flesh between your fingers.

"I can get the idea, yes," you agreed, looking her up and down without even hiding it, then back into her eyes.

"Yeah, of course you do," her hands moved slowly to your neck, where she touched your hair, "maybe it was a mistake not to call you until now, you could have… you know," she pressed against your lap and leaned forward to press against your chest, then, with her face inches from yours, she licked slowly from left to right across your lower lip, "help me with that juicy fucking cock."

"I'm here now, and I'm only yours… for you to use," you squeezed her waist a little more, and then your hands moved down her thighs to hold them on each side of your hips.

"God, I'm warning you boy… you might be opening a Pandora's box today," she licked her lips slowly and bit the tip of her tongue, taking in every detail of your face.

"I'll take the risk," you agreed confidently, closing the distance between your faces to smash your lips against hers. You were immediately reciprocated, and the kiss quickly turned into an intense tongue battle. Her fingers gripped the hair at the nape of your neck, and her hips began to move from front to back, quickly making your cock hard inside your pants, Soyeon noticed this, and she hiked up her skirt to move more freely over your bulge. In response, both of your hands went straight to her ass, you gave each cheek a hard squeeze, and in all the intensity of the moment, you gave her a quick spank that you were sure had stung. Soyeon moaned in the middle of the kiss, to put her hands under your sweater and caress your chest and abdomen; she pulled it up, and you raised your arms for her to take it off you. Her own sweater soon joined yours on the floor, as you had made her repeat the process, leaving her in just a simple white bra that she immediately took off too.

It was the first time you saw her boobs in full display, and you certainly weren't disappointed, her boobs were modest, but that didn't mean she didn't have extremely nice and suckable nipples, anyway, you had to make sure first.

"May l?" you asked her for permission, with your hands on her back.

"What did I tell you about the stupid questions?" she replied, glaring at you.

"Right, sorry."

Your mouth plunged fully into hers perky little tits, you wrapped your arms around her petite body and held her close to you while you sucked and licked her nipples, Soyeon let out a few small moans, moving her hips against your lap; her hands went to your hair, her fingers tangled in it, giving it little tugs and squeezes as you devoured her tits for almost a minute.

"No, stop, I need that cock in my ass, right now," she cut you off with a slight nudge of her finger against your forehead.

"Only if you're okay with me fucking you with that skirt on."

"You're not in position to make demands, asshole, but I don't care, I just want you to use my fucking ass like a cum dump."

Her dirty words were all you needed to get your inner motor into overdrive, that showed off, as you pushed her off your lap so that she fell backwards against a cushion. You stood up and began to undress, Soyeon positioned herself on all fours, her face resting against the cushion, her tight ass up, and her predatory gaze fixed on you as you released your throbbing cock for her to see. The show didn't last long, as you returned to the sofa and knelt behind her; you removed her panties in an instant, noticing that this time she didn't have the plug in her ass, and that her pussy was starting to get soaked.

"Sorry, cutie, this time it won't be so easy for you," she teased you, shaking her ass mischievously.

"I don't think that's a problem," you winked at her, to bring your two fingers to her slit and moisten them with her own fluids, then you brought them to her ass, and began to insert them very slowly until your knuckles were almost inside her hole. Soyeon bit her lip looking over her shoulder at you and gave a soft moan of approval. You pumped your fingers in and out for a little while, just long enough to make your job a little easier.

You brought the palm of your hand to your mouth and released a big spit into it, to quickly drop it on your cock and begin to lubricate it with your own saliva; when it was slippery enough, you pressed the tip against her ass and patiently pushed forward. It was clear you couldn't get in as easily as last time, but seconds passed, and already your flesh was buried halfway inside her tight hole. Soyeon's breathing became more agitated, and her mouth was half open in an O shape.

"Holy fucking shit! Don't stop, I need it all, fuck!" she demanded, squeezing her cushion into her hands.

Doing her bidding without question, you continued to thrust slowly until almost your entire length was buried deep inside her ass. Your body lit up in a sea of sensations that had been dormant for a long time, you had forgotten how incredible that felt, so you didn't bother to hide the loud moan that came out of your mouth.

You took a moment before starting to move your hips; the pace was slow and leisurely at first, just to make sure her ass fit perfectly around your cock, but you knew that soon Soyeon's body was going to ask for more and more, and you certainly weren't going to deny her.

"Fuck me hard honey, show me how much you missed that tight fucking ass," her words came out between subtle little moans as she looked at you.

She still had the skirt wrapped around her waist just the way you wanted it, you took advantage of this, holding it with your left hand to start giving stronger and faster thrusts against Soyeon's ass.

"Oh shit just like that!" she moaned even louder, raising her back a little to grab onto the sofa armband.

You bit your lip and groaned, her ass felt exactly the same as you remembered, tight and soft, and of course her short blonde hair made her look even sexier and petite than usual; she was driving you crazier than you'd like, since you were hardly going to be satisfied with just her ass tonight, you wanted more.

But for now you were concentrating on another task, the clashes between your pelvis and her ass soon turned violent, and with them came the second spank of the night for her, this time you didn't control your strength, so your hand stayed marked red hot on her buttock.

"Yes! Treat me like a bad fucking bitch, beat me up, fucking destroy me!" she screamed between agitated moans.

That turned you on more than it should have, and you just let yourself be carried away by the carnal and animal impulses that came to you. You spanked her as many times as you could, one after the other, on each buttock, you had no mercy of any kind, every time your hand collided with her ass her meat moved like jelly, and you didn't stop until it was colored like a fresh tomato. Soyeon screamed, growled, and clung to the sofa as best as she could for the force and savagery with which you fucked her; but if it wasn't enough that both her buttocks were deep red, you reached forward to grab a handful of her blonde hair and pull it back.

"Fffffffuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she screamed with each thrust, "please just fill me, fill my fucking ass, I'm so fucking close!"

The words couldn't come out of your mouth due to the great physical effort you were making to satisfy her and yourself, there was sweat running down your forehead, which fell directly on her ass and her lower back, you pulled harder on her hair, causing her neck be thrown as far back as possible; her back made a perfect arc, just enough for you to lean forward and look into her eyes as you took your last few thrusts before exploding inside her. Feeling your thick, hot load inside her hole, Soyeon couldn't help but gasp as she suffered a violent orgasm, the spasms shaking her body as if she had been shot by a taser. You both moaned audibly, and she was tightening around your shaft, refusing to let go until she had every last drop of cum inside it.

With the passing of seconds you let go of her hair, consequently, her face fell on the cushion that she had been holding a moment ago. You straightened your back, and very slowly withdrew your cock from her ass until it finally came out with a little --pop--, and along with it, a river of cum slowly spilled down her pussy to the sofa. You, exhausted and needing to catch your breath, fell back and in the opposite direction of Soyeon, resting your head on the armband of the sofa.

"Oh, you think I'm done with you? Not even close, boy," Soyeon said after almost 2 minutes of neither saying anything, pulling herself up so she could sit on her knees between your legs. Judging by her look, and the apparent insatiable hunger she had today, it would be normal for you to fear for your life at that moment, but the only thing you felt was the desire to give her what she deserved and more. This was the day you were going to completely ruin Jeon Soyeon.

"I still have a lot to give. Go ahead, try me," you said, straightening up a little with your lower back against the armband so that she had more mobility.

Soyeon lay with her chest against the sofa, your cock in front of her face, she took it with one hand, and stuck her tongue out to flick it several times against it, then, she began to give your shaft slow licks from your balls until your tip; your breath hitched, and you began to get hard again as her licks and wet kisses did not stop.

When your erection was fully hard and ready again, Soyeon took it straight into her mouth, only sucking on the tip at first, and swirling her tongue around it several times until she lowered her head further, this time. towards the middle of your shaft. She began to pump her head up and down at a considerable pace, giving you a wonderful nice and slow blowjob, you already knew that she was very good at giving head, but this time there was a double effort in how she moved, and in how she used her tongue to make sure to stimulate every corner of your cock.

Not content with the work she was already doing, Soyeon stopped to bring you very slowly down her throat, you let out a long moan, as her nose rested against your pubis and little gagging sounds emanated from her. She kept you there for longer than you expected, until she finally pulled you out with a long breath; she kept jerking you off, still catching her breath until she plunged back into your cock.

She did a complete change of pace, her blowjob going from slow to messy, slippery and needy; her hand accompanied the motion of her mouth, both moving up and down fast while her ass was raised, a sight you couldn't just ignore, and it only turned you on more.

"G-god, I want to fuck you so bad, I want to be inside that wet fucking pussy," you said between heavy gasps, causing Soyeon to stop and pull you out of her mouth. She didn't say a word, she just straightened up and was on your lap in an instant, her pussy brushing all the way across your cock.

"So you want my pussy, huh?" she teased, moving her hips slowly and brushing her slit against your manhood, "and tell me, darling, do you think you're worth it already?" she cupped your face with her hands for a moment, then lowered them down your neck, your shoulders and left them on your chest.

"I don't know," you shook your head, not taking your gaze off hers, "all I know is that if you think my cock feels good in your ass, you'll see stars when it's inside your pussy."

Soyeon paused suddenly, smiled mischievously and raised her hips to take your cock in one of her hands, giving it a few strokes, until she lined up her entrance with your tip and impaled herself without any kind of foreplay or warning, you were just fully inside her in a matter of seconds.

"Ahhh fffffuuuck!" Soyeon moaned loudly, feeling the walls of her pussy stretch and mate perfectly with your cock.

Being inside her pussy felt like a momentous experience for you, you had moaned in unison with her, and all your senses were heightened to feel how tight and wet she was. Your hands went to her waist, and your fingers firmly squeezed her soft flesh; Soyeon held on to your neck, and she tangled her fingers in your hair to start moving her hips up and down. The slow pace was perfect at first for you both to get used to each other, but your body gradually asked for more, so you plunged your mouth back onto her tits, and brought both hands to her ass to give her a strong spank with each one, that made Soyeon grunt with pleasure, and began to ride you faster and harder.

Soyeon's tits became your part of the job as she jumped on you, you licked and sucked on her hard nipples with the intensity that the heat of the moment demanded, and what she did in response was sink you deeper against her chest with the force of her arms. After a few seconds you separated from her breasts and concentrated on her neck, where you distributed wet kisses and small bites, from there, Soyeon brought her mouth closer to your ear, moaning and breathing heavily to bite the lobe of your ear; you spanked her again, which made her pull your hair so hard that you felt like she was going to rip it out, but at the time you didn't care.

"Fuck baby, this cock feels sooooo fucking good! Shit!" she said directly into your ear, to then give you small kisses on the temple and on the cheek.

"And I fucking hate you right now for denying me this pussy a year ago," you growled back, seeking Soyeon's lips to kiss her passionately.

"Then fuck me hard, show me that fucking hate you fucking wimp," she murmured mid-kiss, then bit down on your lower lip.

You took that challenge to heart, so you wrapped your arms around her small frame and clung to her to twist your body to the right, to swing your legs off the sofa and plant your feet on the floor; Soyeon stopped, and you used all the strength in your legs to stand up with the petite woman still clinging to you with her legs, she was quite light, so it wasn't a problem for you to grab her thighs, hold her in the air, and start fucking her with all the fierceness you could give.

Soyeon wrapped her arms around your neck and held onto it as firmly as she could, her face drunk with pleasure was only a few centimeters from yours, and as much as you wanted to keep kissing her, you decided to keep giving yourself a delight watching her moan, and She went crazy with your thrusts.

"Don't you fucking dare to stop! I'm gonna cum!" she whimpered, teary-eyed, "I'm gonna cum on this delicious fucking cock, fuck!"

Words couldn't get out of your mouth, you were so immersed in the pleasure that her pussy was giving you that you couldn't concentrate on doing two things at once, you just kept slamming her pussy mid-air from her. Soyeon growled, and leaned into your face to plant desperate kisses on it; she bit your jaw and jawline a few times, until her body simply gave way to the explosion of her orgasm. Her spasms and shudders were intense, which was also reflected in how the constrictions of her pussy choked on your cock, now soaked in her fluids, while moans filled the entire room, as did the sounds of your pelvis crashing against her ass.

"I want you to cum on my face, I need to feel that hot fucking load on my skin," she whispered against your lips, now holding onto your shoulders.

Once again you didn't respond, but her request burned into your head as you gave her the last few pounds before coming close to your own orgasm. As soon as you felt the tingles in your body, you took a few steps forward until you reached a free area of the soft white plush carpet, and you got out of her pussy to leave her on the floor; Soyeon was immediately on her knees, and you quickly started jerking off right on top of her face, she stuck her tongue out, and you exploded with a loud moan.

Streams of thick cum shot out of your cock and fell in strips straight onto Soyeon's pretty face, some spurts landing on her now closed eyes and left cheek, but most of your load landed on her tongue, and you didn't stop until you had released your last drop. When she noticed that she was no longer receiving any more, Soyeon wiped her eyes to open them and swallow all your load, and as if that weren’t enough, she took you straight into her mouth for a few seconds and left your cock clean and shiny.

"The answer is yes, cutie, you deserve my pussy… and more," she smiled at you, letting your cock rest between her eyebrows as she placed small kisses on your base.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" you asked, your breathing still agitated.

"Fuck my mouth, use it as you please, use ME as you please" she answered before licking you from the balls to the tip, and sucking it for a few seconds.

"Oh, I'll be delighted, trust me," you weren't going to waste time, you directly grabbed each side of her face with your hands, and guided your cock into her mouth again, but this time you were in complete control of the situation, so you slowly pushed forward until only your balls were out.

Soyeon still wasn't used to having your cock buried up to her throat, you could tell it in how she tensed up and how she closed her eyes; the gagging sounds returned, but as you began to move your hips, she relaxed as did her throat, giving you the green light to fuck her face without any mercy.

You weren't too hard at first, your thrusts were on the fine line between being too slow and too fast, she had her hands on your thighs, and you had your hand resting on the back of her head. Your cock appeared and disappeared inside her mouth with great ease, and in a short time the saliva drenched you, it fell from her lower lip, landing directly on her tits or on the carpet.

Little by little, your pace increased, and with it the tension returned to Soyeon's throat, which was definitely not made to be fucked so fast and hard, but that mattered little to you, you weren't slower, quite the opposite, the hand that used to be on the back of her head has now been raised a little higher, so you can aggressively pull her hair while making a mess of her.

Your cock got slippery as if it had been soaped several times, and Soyeon's nails dug a little harder than you expected into your thighs, she opened her eyes to look at you, and you were met with a crystallized look, that didn't take long to become small tears that ran down both cheeks. You kept using her mouth for less than a minute, until you finally pulled your cock out and let her breathe.

"Ahhh fuck!" she said with a cracked voice, picking up the strings of saliva that fell from her mouth to return them to your cock and give it a few strokes.

"On your fours, I want that damn pussy again," you were a bit scared to order something like that, but to your surprise, Soyeon didn't let out a single complaint and turned around to lean forward, resting her hands on the carpet and present her ass for you one more time, but this time you had a different goal. You knelt right behind her, and rubbed the tip of your cock several times between her folds, up and down, until you were back deep inside her pussy.

Soyeon let out a long and discreet moan of pleasure when she felt your throbbing cock inside her again, this time she didn't have to adjust to your length, which allowed you to fuck her with everything you had from the first moment. You held onto her waist with both hands, giving her pussy strong thrusts that made her move like a rag doll. Soyeon, between moans, looked at you over her shoulder, with a look that demanded that she wanted more and more, and you certainly did so.

You leaned forward, sliding an arm under her body to make her flat against the carpet, then you extended your legs behind her so that you had to rest both hands on the carpet, on each side of her body; from that position your face floated above Soyeon's blonde hair, it was perfect to give her exactly what she wanted. Without further ado you resumed your thrusts, but this time you were thrusting downwards, causing your cock to reach still unstimulated places inside her pussy; Soyeon shuddered at the sudden wave of new pleasure that coursed through her body, and tilted her head back so that once again her gaze met yours.

"It feels so fucking amazing baby, holy-, shit! fuck!" the words didn’t even come out easily from her mouth, since you didn’t allow her in the meantime ecstasy.

She wasn't the only one going crazy at the time, the new position gave you more control over your hips, and you could afford fucking her even harder and faster than before, that made you feel like you were going to explode at literally any moment, it was all too much to take, the silky walls of her pussy engulfing your cock, her petite body being pinned against the floor and almost sinking into it, and Soyeon's sensual moans made a combination that was hard to counter.

You wanted to make her cum again, but it was all too much for you, so a few more thrusts were enough for you to sit on Soyeon's thighs and pull out your cock, jerk it a few times, and explode pointing right at her back, which soon was adorned with big thick strands of cum that didn't stop coming out for a few long seconds. You held the image seared into your memory, before carefully letting yourself fall back, your back on the plush surface as you gazed up at the ceiling between heavy gasps.

You closed your eyes for a while, and you couldn't tell how much time passed until Soyeon gave you little kicks on the side of the torso to get your attention; you forced your eyes open, and saw her standing right next to you.

"Hey, idiot, I'm going to go take a bath, my back feels sticky," she said to you, giving you a wink and turning to walk towards the bathroom. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch her, and you couldn't help but see her hips sway from side to side with each step she took, she knew you were watching her, and you knew she wanted you to follow her, and so you did.

You guided yourself to the bathroom when among all the silence of the apartment you managed to hear the sound of the water falling, when you entered you found the shower glass blocking your view, and you could only see the blurred silhouette of the small woman. You closed the door behind you and walked to the shower, brushing aside the skirt that she removed from her body, and sliding the glass to the right to join her in the shower.

"Oh hi, I thought you weren't coming," she said, stepping back out of the spray of water and looking over her shoulder at you.

"Hard not to come when you move your ass like that when you walk," you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her body to bring her back to your chest, you both exchanged a few kisses, as your cock brushed against her lower back.

"It's just that I thought you were already dead, you were asleep for half an hour," she giggled, "anyway, would you help me wash my back?"

"Sure," you nodded, taking the soap and carefully running it all over her back. You took advantage of the moment to help her with other areas of her body, such as her shoulders, her arms, her thighs, and finally her two buttocks, which you indiscreetly squeezed.

"I guess that's not my back, boy," she complained.

"Nope, it's not."

Soyeon ignored you and went back into the water to get the soap off her, after doing so, she took a few steps back to meet you again.

"Your turn, go ahead," she grabbed your shoulders and traded places with you, and you couldn't help but squeal a little at how cold the water was.

"Ah shit! It's freezing, Soyeon, dammit!" you complained with shrugged shoulders from the cold.

"Oh come on, don't be a crybaby," Soyeon grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured some without even warning over your hair to start squeezing it out. She was really going to shower you all over.

After she had washed your hair, she took the same soap and started running it all over your body, you just relaxed, letting her do all the work. Her gentle little hands moved carefully, and you just stared at her the whole process, which meant that when she crouched down in front of your cock, you both locked eyes.

"You know, you didn't make me cum last time..." she passed her two hands, one with the soap, over your semi-hard cock and your balls. She applied special pressure to them, as if she wanted to check that they were still working at that moment.

"Just say you want me balls deep inside your pussy again, it's not that hard," you teased, with a small smirk.

"Yes, I want you balls deep in my pussy again," she handed you the soap to put in the soap dish, and got up to push you into the shower so you could wash the foam off yourself. When your whole body was clean, she pulled you back to crash her lips against yours; you cupped her face with both hands, and she directly grabbed your cock and began to slowly rub it back to life.

When your erection returned, she didn’t hesitate for a second to put herself against the glass wall and support her hands on it, you stood behind her, and you flexed your knees a little to align your cock with her entrance, you rubbed it a couple of times between her folds, and finally got inside her for the 4th time that night.

At this point it shouldn't have surprised you anymore, but every time you were inside her you couldn't help but think that you never wanted to get out; as you started to move at an intermediate pace, her tight and wet pussy just made you feel in heaven, and of course the fact that you were both wet from head to toe added an extra touch of sensuality to the whole thing.

In the midst of the need to feel her even closer to you, you wrapped her body with your left arm and her neck with your right arm so you could cling to her; you pressed her further against her glass, causing her tits to smash against it as you moved your hips ever faster and harder. You were almost choking Soyeon, so her moans were muffled and turned more into grunts than anything else, aware of that, you applied more force in your grip, which became an instant trigger for her pussy to tighten around  your cock with each thrust.

You could feel Soyeon's legs start to weaken and shake from the mix of pleasures, but you held her firmly in place, pinned against the glass door as you mercilessly fucked her. She lasted a lot less this time, you guessed it was because of her ruined orgasm from a while ago, but of course the surge of ecstasy was suddenly released with the fury of four demons, she couldn't moan or produce almost any sound, but she growled so powerfully that the closest thing you could relate to it was a small rabid animal.

If it weren't for you holding her in your arms, you were sure Soyeon would have collapsed to the shower floor, but that wasn't going to happen, not while you were still giving her the fuck of a lifetime. Your left arm continued around her body, but the arm you had on her neck was pushed out, this allowed her to breathe properly again, but all you wanted was to place your hand on the back of her head and press one side of her face hard against the glass.

"Fffffuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!" she yelled with her voice already broken and raspy, her body  wildly bouncing thanks to the crashes of your pelvis against her ass, "I'm gonna fucking cum again, shit shit shiiiiiiiiiit!!!"

You were also close to your orgasm, and feeling the strong pulsations of her pussy around your cock again made you cum almost against your will. You didn't come out of her this time, so all your load went deep into her tight cavern; you both became a trembling mess of moans and shudders, Soyeon more than you, but it was up to you that she didn't collapse, a task that was difficult for you to carry out since you were focused on completely unloading inside one of the most talented rappers of the industry, you moaned with your eyes closed just like her, until you stopped your thrusts.

There was nothing more than agitated and ragged breaths at that moment, you were still inside her, but you had already loosened your grip so that both of you could relax.

"You… you came inside me," she gasped, "definitely, I've never met a motherfucker as audacious as you."

"I don't hear you complaining," you replied, then pulled out of her, letting the lack of your meat plug cause all the cum to spill out of her pussy onto the shower floor.

"It's because I have no complaints, it always feels good to have a big fucking hot load inside me," Soyeon turned to look you in the eye, her hands on your chest as she kissed your chin, then gave you a little push and fell to her knees in front of you, to put your cock in her mouth and make it completely clean once more.

She stood up again to turn off the shower, then came back with you to wrap her arms around your neck.

"Uhm... do you want to go out for something to eat and get to know each other better?"

The question took you by surprise, you didn't expect such an offer from her, you were already thinking that after that night you were going to fall into oblivion for another year, and you had no illusions whatsoever. However, this was the first time that you could tell that she was really interested in you.

"I... I mean, sure! Yes!" you nodded, a smile on your face.

"Nice, you seem like exactly the guy I need in my life, you're cute, sassy, and you have an amazing cock," she said with a mischievous smile, before giving you a peck on the chest, "c'mon, let's go out."

——————————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Well, as you read above, this is my first commission done. Man, if you're reading this, I hope you love it and that it's just what you expected! And to everyone else, thank you so much for taking the time to read this piece!

If you are also interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I'll be delighted!

#soyeon smut #smut #g idle smut #idle smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #smut fanfic #fanfic #x male reader #male reader smut #male reader #male reader insert

[nintendont2502]

cant find the original post but a while ago i impulsively decided to add all 32 sburb players (betas, alphas, alternians *and* beforans) to a random name generator and then randomly mix them up - characters kept their original first name and class, and took on the last name and aspect of whatever character they took the role of. this was just meant to be a funny 1am experiment so i could laugh at the cursed results

...yeah it has lore now. i cant stop thinking about it. help.

Beta Kids:

Gamz Egbert (Gamzee) - Bard of Breath. One of the most chill guys ever. Constantly zoned the hell out. Loves clowns :0) him and his dad bond over it. Hangs out with Kari a lot over vc, where it's basically just Kari talking at him uninterrupted (the kid needs it sometimes)

Kari Strider (Kankri) - Seer of Time. Gifted kid and he won't let you forget it. Permanently lives in a sweater vest even though he literally lives in Texas. Constantly annoyed by how childish and immature his older brother is. Lectures him a lot. Lectures his friends a lot. Has 'visions of his past lives' (aka occasional memories from his post-scratch/alternate timeline counterparts). Lectures his friends about how theyre real and valid whenever they make give him shit for it (which happens a lot). Dedicated pacifist - for now, anyway.

John Lalonde - Heir of Light. Golden child. Has an over-bearing mother that constantly pushes him into learning instruments/lanugages/skills, participating in competitions and events, winning award after award. Sure, he's... kinda sick of doing things all day every day, and he doesn't really want to do any of this, but... shouldn't he do it anyway? Even if just for his Mom? Hell, he can't really complain about it, right? He has such a good life! He goes horseback riding every sunday! Sure, it sucks that he doesn't have any free time that isn't controlled by his mother, but he can deal with it. It's fine.

(Things get even worse during the three year trip when Wuh Oh! Gender crisis time! Except he can’t be a girl because he was always meant to be his mom’s perfect son, and he’s already let her down once by letting her die, right? He can just… live with this. Its fine. It's not that bad. It's for her, after all.)

Roxy Harley - Rogue of Space. Grew up living on a small island somewhere in the Pacific that her grandfather 'won in a poker game' (aka probably scammed someone out of, knowing him) - or so he says, anyway. He also used to say he got Roxy the same way every time she asked where she came from! Haha very funny Roxy definitely loved hearing that and not a real response every time she asked where she came from and why she didn’t have any parents. That was great. Her grandfather died when she was fairly young, leaving her alone on the island with nothing left of him but the small inventions he left around the place to make life easier for her. She grows up learning how to maintain them, and although she tries becoming a great inventor like her grandfather, she just... doesn't have the skill. Hacking, on the other hand - shes great at that shit! She finally cracks her final goal - cracking into her grandfathers servers - just before her friend Gamz's 13th birthday, finding mostly boring shit - expenses, customer complaints, legal threats, budgets, etc. What's mildly more interesting to her, however, is the insane amount of money (if they lived on the mainland, they'd be fucking LOADED), and a .exe file for a really cool looking game, with a note from her grandfather congratulating her on finally getting in. And hey, would you look at that? Its multiplayer! And all her friends are free - even John, who through sheer coincidence found himself with a free weekend after his tutors came down with various mysterious illnesses and injuries. It's like the universe wants them to play the game or some shit! Haha wild

Alpha Kids:

Raph Crocker (Rufioh) - Rogue of Life. The living embodiment of all those business major memes. Dude is *dedicated* to the Crockercorp brand - he's determined that one day, he'll climb the ranks and become head of the company, and hopefully lead it just as well as his great-grandfather did. He unironically wears a suit everywhere, and seems committed to sounding like a 50 year old boardroom exec trapped in the body of a 16 year old - although it isn't hard to get him to crack. As much as he pretends he has no patience for his online friends and their constant stories of 'living on a remote island' or 'living in the post-apocalyptic future' (seriously guys, he isn't that gullible), he does genuinely care about them. Besides, when you're stuck in the house all day, there isn't much else to do.

Tuna Strider (Mituna) - Heir of Heart. Trans king. Exudes pure 'disney channel older brother' energy. Shithead (affectionate). Looks up to his Bro, a famous pacifist who resisted the Batterwitch's rule with a global peaceful protest... only to be killed the moment he became too much of a threat. Yyeah. Tuna has... some thoughts about how that should have gone down - most of them involving swords. Or guns. Or both. Maybe if his Bro had a sweet katana, the world wouldn't have been flooded! Although it's too late for his Bro, Tuna has decided to take up the fight in his stead by creating his own 'sick as fuck gun-sword' with whatever scrap metal he can find in the apartment (his Bro, for some reason, didn't think to leave him any useable weapons. cringe). He's got the sword part down great, but the gun... not so much.

Vris Lalonde (Vriska) - Thief of Void. The second half of the 't4t post apocalypse chaos squad', as Tuna calls them. Girl doxxes people for fun - what are they gonna do? Doxx her back? lmao good luck with that losers - closest youre gonna get is still 400 years off. Constantly daring her friends to do stupid shit and quote, 'stop being so fucking boringggg'. it usually works on tuna. sometimes on dave. she still hasnt gotten raph yet, but *one day*...

Dave English - Knight of Hope. smooth talking mile a minute inventor who *loves* trying to 'pitch' his latest invention to his friends. its become almost a game to them, where theyll take turns bidding increasingly ridiculous amounts for an umbrella that shoots seeds ('for easy planting in the rain yknow') or a beat-boxing robot ('i dont even need to explain this one just look at it man. cool as shit'). hell, even raph gets involved sometimes, usually turning it into a shark tank style negotiation. dave swears hes keeping a tally of how much everyone 'owes' him, and claims that one day hes settling that bill. his inventions are genuinely pretty impressive, especially considering his limited resources - being stuck alone on a remote island makes sourcing parts pretty hard. he probably wouldnt even need to jokingly scam his friends in order to jokingly sell his inventions - they jokingly sell themselves. he just thinks scamming people is fun.

Alternia Rapid Fire Round lets goo

Cronus Megido - Bard of Time. relentlessly flirts with anyone of a higher caste than him in the hopes that, if he can get into a quadrant with them, he'll have more protection than he would as just a solo rustblood. this strategy ultimately fails when he flirts with a particular Serket one too many times and gets killed for it. damn. oh well.

Sollux Nitram - so so tired of everyones shit. the only person that actually vaguely got along with Cronus (because he was the only person that Cronus didn't flirt with). just wants to play his pokemon in peace man stop dragging him into drama

Damara Captor - Witch of Doom. 'curses' people. seems weirdly unsurprised when those curses actually work. after cronus' death, a rumour went around that she was the one who caused it, and she absolutely wasnt denying that shit - now no one wants to fuck with her, and those that do? well, she still has her psiionics.

Meulin Vantas - Mage of Blood. Basically the only fucking thing holding this friendship group together. Despite all the complicated as shit relationships - the friendships, the exes, the mortal enemies, the attempted (and successful) murders - Meulin somehow manages to navigate the web of relationships and keep everyone relatively stable

Jaydee Leijon (Jade) - Witch of Heart. catgirl :33. Wishes she lived closer to everyone so she could see them 33: especially her moirail!! at least she still has her lusus to playfight with

Karkat Maryam - Knight of Space. basically a tboy vampire. Used to live in the caverns, but after he realised he was a dude, he began to feel uncomfortable with how oppressive and 'feminine' the caverns were. ran away. struggles with his identity - the contrast between the typical female jadeblood standards of being caring and nurturing, and the typical alternian female standards of being violent and aggressive, leave him stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do or who hes 'allowed' to be. swings wildly between being aggressive and letting himself care about his friends. he eventually figures out that gender stereotypes are bullshit and he can care abt his friends and still be a dude. hes still an asshole though <3

Eridan Pyrope - Prince of Mind. Incredibly committed to a strict moral code - which... no one can figure out. it seems to vary wildly depending on what suits him best at the specific moment. Used to roam Alternia looking for 'criminals' to 'improve' or, if that failed, 'bring to justice' with one Serket, but after an incident involving the loss of three eyes and one arm... they arent exactly on speaking terms.

Dyrrhk Serket (Dirk) - Prince of Light. i dont know how else to say it this mfer makes saw traps. he claims its to 'improve' people - by putting them through some specific trap, it... fixes a percieved issue? even if its an issue only he can see. and if they die in the trap? well, they should have just tried harder right. they probably deserved it. he isnt even doing this out of a desire to hurt people hes *genuinely* convinced that what hes doing is helping, and thinks that this is the best way to go about it. puts eridan through one one day, resulting in the loss of his vision, and after he (finally) figured out that 'huh maybe that wasnt a good idea', he... apologises. lmao just kidding that would be too reasonable - instead he mind controls one of his friends into putting *dyrrhk* into a trap of his own design, resulting in the loss of an eye and an arm. he seems genuinely convinced that this should make them even. everythings fine now, right? he scares me just on a conceptual level

Tavros Zahhak - Page of Void. hes basically a himbo im ngl. hes tall hes ripped hes clumsy and he cant help but draw attention to himself wherever he goes - attention he *hates*. moirails with jaydee. theyre cute <>

Latula Makara - Knight of Rage. clown... despite the usual purpleblood stereotypes, she doesnt really get angry all that often - most of the time, shes just vibing. but when she *does* get angry? its always for a reason. theres always a specific goal shes fulfilling through that anger (even if its just intimidating someone into doing something). i have the least thoughts about her but shes interesting

Jaiikk Ampora (Jake) - Page of Hope. Just a funny lil guy that likes playing pirates :) all the lowbloods he roleplays with definitely want to be there and don't feel coerced by being 'asked' by a literal violetblood :)) if people die during his 'games' well that sucks but he cant exacly stop playing because of a few small accidents right? ..yyeah. hes incredibly ignorant of his position in society and how that effects other people, even if (especially if) those consequences are deadly for others. after a certain point its just easier to not know whats going on than to face all the damage youve caused right. claims he loves the ocean and dreams of living in the depths. never goes into the ocean. hes a weird guy

Equius Peixes - Heir of Life. Future heir to the Alternian throne. Determined to lead Alternia into a new era of strength, no matter the methods to get there. moirails with Jaiikk (which absolutely doesnt help the whole 'Jaiikk accidentally pressuring lowbloods into doing things for him' thing. bro has scary dog privileges with the future emperor looming behind him at all times)

Even faster Beforus speed round because you cant legally make me think about them for more than five seconds

Porrim Megido - Maid of Time

Feferi Nitram - Witch of Breath

Rose Captor - Seer of Doom

Nepeta Vantas - Rogue of Blood

Kurloz Leijon - Prince of Heart

Aradia Maryam - Mage of Space

Aranea Pyrope - Sylph of Mind

Kanaya Serket - Sylph of Light

Jane Zahhak - Maid of Void

Meenah Makara - Thief of Rage

Terezi Ampora - Seer of Hope

Horuss Peixes - Page of Life

#me.txt #christ this was long #randomiser au #homestuck #i love these guys sm #they haunt me #ask me questions abt them please please pleas eim so so normal

[lunargrapejuice]

come home

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

warnings: so much yearning, fluff, mentions of previous sexual acivites but nothing explicit, mentions of reader being smaller than diluc

in celebration of diluc finally coming home to me not once but fucking twice in the span of a few days after playing this game since it came out😭❤️

tired muscles begin to warm as the master bedroom of the manor fills with light and you prepare for the day. it is almost always chilly at the winery in the mornings, cool wind from dragonspine freezing the dew drops that cling to the bricks and glass windows, but without diluc by your side it somehow feels even colder. 

you shiver at the cool hardwood under your bare feet and the way the morning air hits your skin when you step out of the bathroom after a shower and head towards the large walk in closet.

soft cotton rests against your skin as you slip your arms through one of the many shirts that fill dilucs side of the closet, nimble fingers slowly buttoning it up much like you would do for diluc when he was home. you smile weakly at the memories of your normal morning routine with him, happy at the soft domesticality you both had grown so accustomed to but laced with longing that has built up over the weeks without him by your side.

only a few more days you remind yourself, tucking the long ends of the gray button up into your pants before heading to the vanity. you’ve gone weeks without him by your side and yet these last few days feel like the longest of them all. ever since you received his letter that he’d be returning in a few days time every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a day but even if the clock ticked by slowly, it still brought you closer to being with him once again. 

a soft knock followed by the call of your name fills the quiet room behind you before the door slowly opens and adelinde walks in. you smile at her through the reflection in the mirror as you attempt to clasp the small necklace diluc had gifted you around your neck, a perfect match to the one he wore under his clothes. 

“allow me, my lady,” adelinde is quickly behind you, her skilled and small hands easily grabbing the necklace and clasping it securely for you. she doesn’t stop there in her attempt to help you get ready for the day, while also hoping her closeness helps the yearning within your own heart being without the master of the winery. grabbing the brush on the vanity she combs through your hair, gentle and motherly as she asks about your morning and what assistance you may need throughout the day. 

diluc, adelinde and elzer had all assured you that you didn’t need to worry about work around the winery while diluc was away. elzer and adelinde were more than equipped to take over just as they had during the long years diluc was away following his fathers passing but you had insisted on wanting to take some of the load and the staff has been beyond supportive and helpful getting you through the busy days. 

“i’ll gather the others and we’ll meet you downstairs to go over today's tasks once you’re ready,” adelinde smiles at you through the mirror as she puts the hairbrush down and then excuses herself, leaving you alone in the large room once again. 

your longing heart is all you hear in your shared bedroom now that you’re alone once more, surrounded by every reminder of the man you love without actually getting to be near him. unable to stop yourself, you bring the fabric of his shirt you’re wearing up to your nose and breathe in the scent of wine, oak and bergamot that still lingers on the fibers and whisper into the familiar comfort of your beloved, “only a few more days.”

“oh master diluc!” adelinde exclaims in surprise when she spots that unmistakable mane of red hair in the morning light illuminating the parlor in soft yellows and blues. it was only yesterday the letter had arrived stating he’d be back soon but the trip back was supposed to be days, not one evening. “we hadn’t expected you to be back so soon.”

he offers her a soft welcoming nod. “it was a last minute change but i was able to leave earlier than anticipated.”

“it’s good to have you home. y/n should be down any minute now but you may be able to catch her before she leaves the bedroom.”

and as if on queue, your voice echoes through the main area of the manor as you greet the staff good morning. sweet words that diluc had missed more than he thought he would during the time he was away but he takes them in now, letting the melody of your voice kindle the flames within his heart.  

in your hurry to get started for the day you failed to see your beloved talking with adelinde near the sofa between the front door and the side window. you hadn’t even looked in that direction when the staff met you at the bottom of the stairs and you quickly began to delegate tasks and discuss what work needed to be done today in preparation for dilucs return. 

not wanting to disturb your work even though every part of him wanted to scoop you into his arms, diluc only admired you from afar, ruby eyes on you and you alone. the way the edges of your eyes crinkle as you smile, the sun catching your hair when you shook your head, the red necklace, a twin to his own, peeking from the first few buttons that were undone on your shirt. well his shirt, he notes with a faint blush on his cheeks. even with the jacket you wore to conceal how big it was on you, he thought it still fit you so perfectly. 

“she’s been wearing your shirts almost every day for a week now,” adelinde says with a chuckle, noticing where the eyes of the young master lingered and remembering the first day you wore his clothes. a bit embarrassed you had asked her to help you style it with your own clothing so it didn’t look so out of place. she could only smile as she helped you find a suitable pair of pants and a jacket to go with his shirt. “i think she just wanted some way to be closer to you.”

his heart skips a beat at that, pink lips tugging into a smile. “it’s a feeling i became familiar with on this trip as well.”

the study was filled with reminders of your beloved as well and you had kept everything the same since he left; carefully cleaning and putting away the quill and ink similar to how he would each night when the paperwork was finished. you had watched his meticulous way of cleaning the quill you had gifted him a thousand times during your time together and it seemed too odd to put them away any other way. even the red gem accessory that normally rested on his tie, that fell off him in your hurry to get him out of his clothes the night before he left, had remained on the top of the desk. it caught your attention so many times, like a reminder that he still existed in your world and would be close to you again soon.

you settled into the chair behind the desk with a sigh. yes, he’d be back soon but you didn’t want to wait anymore and like you’ve been doing for the last few weeks, you mentally kick yourself for not fighting harder to go with him. he was stubborn in his wishes for you to stay home in comfort and most importantly, safety and when he let slip the worry he held, leaving his heart on his sleeve, you weren’t able to fight it any longer.

“i won't let you convince me to stay home next time ‘luc,” you speak into the universe, reaching for the first bit of paperwork you have to get through today. maybe the wind would carry your promise to him and -

“is that so?”

your eyes shoot up from the paperwork to the open study door at the sound of your beloved voice laced with a playfulness. was he really here after so long? even when you saw him leaning against the door frame with his arm crossed, a soft smile on his lips, you still wondered if your eyes were playing tricks on you. he said he’d be a few more days.. 

“perhaps i was a bit too stubborn not letting you join me but i won’t be leaving again anytime in the foreseeable future,” despite his pink cheek, he can’t bring himself to break from your gaze - not when it’s been so long since he was able to see it in more than just his dreams. “i.. don’t want to be away from home.. from you, any longer than i have to b - oof-” 

the impact of your body against his nearly knocks the wind from the both of you and has him taking a step back to steady you both as his arms wrap around you. you had moved so quickly he didn’t have time to widen his stance before you were already leaping for him but still, he caught you with his incredible strength, his body tightly wrapped in your embrace.

“‘luc.. i-i’ve missed you so much,” you voice is wobbly and so hard to find but no words needed to be spoken, for your feelings were returned in the most earnest of ways. 

warm tears stain the fabric of his coat as he pulls you close into him, one strong arm wrapped around you, fingering sinking into your soft skin keeping you pressed close while the other tangles in your hair. slowly, with you in the safety of his arms, he enters the study, lightly kicking the door closed with his heel, leaving only you two to bask in this moment.

neither of you know how long you stand there, holding each other, before your legs unwrap from his slim waist and he helps you find steady ground. though he never lets you leave his embrace or his proximity. he couldn’t bear to be far from you for a moment. leaning down to meet you, you lift on your toes to meet catch halfway, your lips meeting in a passionate, searing, kiss. 

warmth fills you to the brim at the feeling of his lips on yours, the familiar taste of him on your tongue. you hold onto him so tightly, fingers getting lost in the sea of his red locks and pulling him closer. with his own unyielding grip on you, your feet barely touch the ground the more kisses you share and he holds you within his strong, desperate grip; proof of how much he has missed you too.

you only part ways when the air between you is so hot it’s near impossible to breathe but still you can’t part from one another. your feet find flat ground as he puts you down, foreheads pressed together, chest to heaving chest, but your legs are too unsteady to keep you upright and you hold onto the lapel of his jacket for stability. 

his heavy breaths brush against your skin, his scent and minty breath flooding your senses, vermillion bangs ticking your forehead and cheeks. he takes deep breaths as he attempts to speak, “i’ve missed you so much y/n.” he confesses. the tip of his nose rubs against yours as gently as a butterfly's flapping wing, thick red lashes fluttering closed as he soaks you in. “i can’t bear to be away from you that long again.” 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc #diluc fluff #diluc x reader #genshin impact fluff #diluc ragnvindr fluff

[archangeldyke-all]

hello! what are your thoughts on sevika with a reader who has crippling anxiety? like most days in bed because she cannot leave. of course you don’t have to and remember to take care of yourself🩵

i've been there it's so fucking horrible, i hope this eases some of that pain for you baby. <3

men and minors dni

she has a whole system in place for when her baby's having bad days.

all you need to do is tell her that you're feeling anxious and she's on it.

she never forces you to do something you don't want to, and she tries her very best not to overwhelm you. she just gently sits on the side of your bed, rubbing your back beneath the blankets as she quietly asks you what she can do for you.

sometimes the answer is nothing. when this is the case, sevika will leave you to sleep for a while as she goes to the kitchen to cook up your absolute favorite foods. it doesn't matter how indulgent or unhealthy they are, she just wants to get something in your stomach. she'll come back a few hours later, help you sit up in bed, and present a plate loaded with food to you.

she's never had to yet, but she'd even be willing to feed you if you asked her to.

she's certain to keep your water filled and by your bed. even if you don't drink it, she comes in once every few hours to put fresh ice in it, just so when you find the motivation to grab it it'll be nice and cool for you.

if you want to be alone, she'll leave you alone. she'll set you up with your phone or laptop and charger, pulling up your comfort show and putting all your social medias on mute-- hoping that you won't start doom scrolling.

she still checks in on you once or twice an hour, just poking her head in to make sure you're okay, pressing a kiss to your head before leaving you alone again.

but if you don't want to be alone, sevika's all over you.

she'll curl up around you, one hand on your heart and one on your stomach, gently drawing circles into your skin as she deeply breathes in your ear so you subconscious can match it.

if you want it quiet, she'll stay quiet. if you want to watch your comfort show, she'll watch it with you. but if you want to hear her voice, sevika will talk herself hoarse to bring you some comfort. anything from the weather to her earliest memories as a child-- she'll tell it all to you just to distract you from your brain.

if you start feeling restless and jittery, sevika's happy to flop on top of you and act as your personalized weighted blanket.

it doesn't matter how long it takes-- sevika will wait by your side (or in the next room) with you until your anxiety lessens enough that you feel like you can get up.

and when you finally do, she'll help you to the shower, stripping you down and turning the water on to the perfect temperature before guiding you under the stream.

she lets you stand like that for a few minutes while she puts fresh pj's on the counter and fresh sheets on the bed. then, she strips down and comes in with you, helping you wash-- knowing how overwhelming even that can be for you.

and when you're done, if you're up for it, sevika will dress you up and take you on a very very quick walk around the block.

i'm talking short. like up the street and back. she knows that being away from home makes you anxious-- the last thing she wants to do is make it worse. she just wants you to get some fresh air because she knows it helps. and usually, by the time you guys are back in front of your house, it has helped, and you tug on her hand and ask if she'd like to go around the whole block with you.

she always says yes. always.

when you get back home, no matter how late (or early) it is, sevika will make you a cup of sleepytime tea or a glass of warm milk or hot chocolate, along with a few melatonin capsules.

she'll guide you back to bed and lay with you until you start snoring. it's only then that she'll rise and change herself into sleeping clothes, gathering the plates that have accumulated by your bed and taking them to the sink, but leaving them for the morning. after all-- she's got you all cozy in her bed. she's not gonna leave you alone for a moment longer than she needs.

it doesn't matter how often it happens. it doesn't matter how long it will take. sevika's going to be by your side though thick and thin, and it'll take a whole lot more than bad anxiety to scare her away.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

[ultralightpoe]

Vigilante Shit - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Never liked this one which is why it stayed in the drafts fr so long, it just always seemed empty. It's definitely missing something.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Word Count:9,131

Warnings: Cuss words, reader was once apart of the red room

Apart of my MIDNIGHTS EVENT.

Main Masterlist

Enjoy!

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

-

It’s the pity on her face that makes you want to claw her eyes out, or maybe the happy family photo sitting on her desk staring and taunting you with their stupid smiling faces. Each of her children smiled like nothing was wrong in the world, like they didn’t have to worry about earning their way or surviving the day.

Dr. Aquinos children would never know pain.  

But that was a given, they weren’t bought and sold off. They weren’t tortured and abused for years only to be torn out when Natasha fucking Romanoff decides to free everyone from that chain and force them into the real world. 

Did it make you pathetic to say you missed it? 

In the red room you had a cot, a meal at least once a day and training. Out here you were no one. No trace of you existed. No ids, or photos, no friends or family. You were nothing. 

Even ghosts had more than you at this point. 

“You know it’s common to feel this way about it? That longing to have it back? It’s the pain and the change, you feel like you have nothing right now but I can assure you that’s not true.” 

You say nothing. 

“Have you given any thought to our last session?” The therapist asks, voice saccharine amount of sweet that tells you she knows your looking for a fight today and she won’t be giving into it. You hated that she knew you would try that, you hated these sessions all together. 

“Yes.” Lie. And judging by the quirk in her smile she knows it too. 

“I think it’s extremely important for you in this next step, to get rid of the suit. What was it they called you?” You don’t reply for a minute, your own little form of rebellion, but she doesn’t let you get away with it for long. “The…. Cobra?” 

“The. Viper.” You bite out, grinding your teeth together and fisting your hands at your side. “The Red Viper to be exact.” 

“Can you explain to me why it is you got that name? I mean your other counter parts all follow a …..widow theme….. but you don’t?” 

“It just….. happened that way.” You lie. “How much longer do we have?” 

Why did she not have a clock?

“Ah. So the story has something to do with Bucky Barnes.” She smiles and you fight back the sneer. 

“Nope.” 

“You always ask for the time when memories of him are brought up.” 

Not. True. You don’t bother arguing because that might prove her point. 

“Can you recall what he looked like?” 

A flash of ice blue crosses your mind, his eyes. Followed by roses and ballet slippers. A small opening to freedom right there in your grasp, his smiling face….. replaced by that of betrayal, the pain and torture you suffered for weeks after because he-

“No.” You lie. “I only knew him as the winter soldier.”

“Have you tried reaching out?” 

“No. And I never will.” Not until you were able to kill him, get your revenge. 

Your therapist didn’t know about your revenge list though,she would have you imprisoned for it. The list of names of every mastermind and agent that did you wrong, and at the very end of the list was the one person you actually managed to trick you, the one person you gave everything you had left to. 

Bucky Barnes would be the last person you killed in this life, and you would make sure to enjoy every second of it.  

-

It’s not everyday they pull you from your training program and load you into a transportation vehicle, and you don’t know whether to be scared or excited by the change in routine. 

You decide on excitement, because a widow is never. Ever. Scared. 

The keepers transporting you all avoid eye contact and you bite back the smirk, knowing that you installed that fear when you bit the thumb off the last guard that tried to touch you inappropriately. You might be hydras toy but you were not a plaything for these half wits. 

“Your mission will be in direct partnership with the Winter Soldat.” The agent in front of you explains, watching you load up your widow uniform with hidden weapons “there’s a list of names that needs to be taken care of, and it might take a minute so they are pairing you both. They want no mistakes, only the best.” 

“No traces no trails. No chances.” You answer, already having it memorized, biting down on your tongue when you remember the poor girl you left as a witness to your last mission. 

Hydra never found out, but her scared scream when she caught you killing her father will haunt you. 

You wondered if you might have had someone to scream over at one point. 

“He won’t speak to you so don’t bother.” The agent grunts as the vehicle comes to a stop and he slams his fist on the side to let them know it’s safe to open the doors. 

They all cast you another look as you try not to roll your eyes at the drama. If you truly wanted out of this vehicle you could slaughter them all, you just knew that hydra would track you down no matter what so what was the point?

They lead you down hundreds of gray halls, each getting darker than the last and the smell of mold and desperation heightened with each step. Finally at the very last cell door they all raise their weapons and slide it open, muttering something in Russian before a figure emerges. 

The glint of his arm catches on the shit light above you first, and then he is there, glowering and confused in the same go. 

“Soldat. This is the widow.” His mentor speaks in Russian, gesturing to you which makes the soldier give you one look. That’s it. One brief look of disdain and he goes back to looking at the mentor like you weren’t even there. 

This mission is going to go well. 

-

“You’re making progress Bucky.” Dr. Raynor hums, her eyes glinting as she watches him over the pad of paper she hasn’t scribbled on in the past hour. He likes to think that it’s a good sign, but he also tries not to get into his own head about it. “But I’d like to go a little deeper if you’ll let me.” 

“Don’t really have a choice doc.” He mutters, but his tone lacks the usual bite. 

“Funny. Have you slept in a bed recently?” 

“I’ve made it to at least 3 hours of sleep in my bed.” He nods, not mentioning he thought the laundry detergent smelled like your shampoo. 

“You bought any home decorations? Anything at all?” 

“There’s a welcome mat by the front door.” 

“Inside or outside?” 

“…..inside.” He wasn’t brave enough to put it out in the hall yet. 

“I just want a house that has a welcome mat and that cookie smell. Something to call home.” Those were your words, whispered to him the night before the soldier….. 

“Tell me what you have been up to lately.” 

“Lunches with Yori….missions with Sam…. And I’ve been…. Trying to find someone.” 

“Someone from your time as the soldier?” 

“Yes.” His throat is tight and he might throw up. 

“For revenge?” 

“No…. Well she might want revenge…… I just want her.” He admits. 

Dr. Raynors eyebrows shoot up, and she tries to keep neutral as she asks the next question. “The viper then?” 

“She didn’t like that name.” 

“How did she get it?” 

“Me.” 

“And what did you call her if she didn’t like the name?” 

“Flower.”

- 

I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

- 

The roof of the bagel shop on the stupid block you were on was probably the worst spot to be. 

Best, if you’re focusing on the fact that it’s the perfect hideout for the sniper gun you are aiming and the fact that you’re able to lay at a slant so your legs don’t falls asleep while you focus. 

Terrible for the fact that you could smell the pizza shop next door perfectly, and your stomach was beginning to rumble in hunger. 

But you had to focus, your target was supposed to be in his apartment right now, Viktor Aubrel, the man that sold you in the first place. 

Your intel told you he should have been home an hour ago and yet you were still waiting in the winter air that sent a shiver up your spine, too focused on the aim to realize the two figures now on the roof. 

“Are the widows that oblivious now?” A deep voice laughs causing you to whirl, knife out as you spot none other than the winter soldier and the new captain america, both watching you. 

It was the captain that taunted you, a sneer making its way into your lips as you prepare yourself to launch. The winter soldier extends a hand out, blocking the captain with a skeptical look. 

“Sam. A little forewarning, she doesn’t fight like the others.” He mumbles and you all but hiss, not giving either of them a moment before you’re launching at them. 

They track your movements well, both standing to fight as you run across the roof, jumping up on the ledge to give you the upper advantage and launch yourself at them. Starting with the easier target, the man with the shield. Wrapping your arms around his neck and spinning your body until you have his weight thrown in the air. He manages to catch himself standing but you’re ahead of the game, jumping so your feet are planted on his chest and shoving him off the roof right as the winter soldier gets to you.  

“I don’t want to do this.” He mutters and you hiss again, lunging with a knife out, slashing expertly over and over as he dodges as much as he can. “You don’t need to do this.” 

The knife catches in the elbow of his metal arm and his flesh hand comes up to grab your wrist so you twist, kicking his knee down and flick another knife from your uniform. 

“I want to.” You mutter in Russian, voice dripping with disdain as you raise the knife and bring it down. Only to get blasted across the roof. 

The air leaves your lungs as you skid across the concrete of the roof, splayed out staring at the sky and blinking away the pain. 

“She’s quicker than the rest.” Captain America huffs, helping the soldier up. 

“A lethal experiment. Taking a trained widow and injecting her with mutated blood of some guy named Logan Howlett.”

“Where does the viper come from?” 

“Her knives are all laced with venom and poisons. One touch to your skin and it doesn’t matter if it was a fatal wound or not. You’re out.” You hear them both approach, pretending to be passed out before they get close enough and you can kick the soldier in the stomach. He catches your foot, twisting so your body would have to twist with it or break, but you’re already pulling out a knife and launching it at the other. 

A shout of warning leaves the soldier's lips as the knife nearly gets his partner's thigh, you take this weakness and twist until you are wrapped around him and launching you both across the roof. But he is already working his way out, twisting so you slam into the roof once more, his metal arm on your throat holding you down as you claw at it. 

Panic attacks your body, scratching at the metal as the captain comes into view. 

“Stop. We can help you.” The man sighs. 

“Y/n.” The soldier mumbles, eyes pleading. “Let us help-“ 

Your foot bends to smash into his jaw and send him sprawling back. 

“That’s. Not. My. Name.” Your voice is scratchy from the choking and it hurts to talk, but you don’t have time since you’re already dashing to clear the roof. 

But the captain throws his shield and hits your ankle sending you falling until Bucky catches you and twists you with his metal arm so your back was to his chest and he can hold you. 

“It is. You told me so yourself. Remember?” 

“I wanna see my life before all this. I want to see my family and tell them I’m alive. My name was y/n. I found my file and I just-“ 

You were disgusted that you ever told him such things. 

“LET GO!” 

“We can help with your list.” It’s the caption saying this, his face holding pity. “We can’t kill but we can help take them down. If you’re willing.” 

“They all deserve to die!” The one holding you counted in that. 

“I’m not arguing that. But I am setting boundaries. Justice by more death is not the way to do this.” The man tries to ease, attempting a smile. “I’m Sam. You already know Buck-“ 

“Let me go!” 

“We’re proposing a partnership. We help you take them down, get them arrested and you don’t kill any of them.” 

“Right. And I get thrown in a cell right after I’m assuming.” You sneer, trying not to focus on the scent of hazel and coffee coating your senses from the soldier. 

“You will be pardoned. You had no choice back then and we are giving you one now. Pardoned.” 

“And what do you mean by taking them down?” What choice did you have? 

- 

It had been a week with the soldier when he finally showed a small amount of emotion. Insane. 

You had been huddled in the corner of the abandoned hotel you made camp in, keeping close to yourself for warmth as he pretended to sleep by the wall. You knew he wasn’t actually asleep, not trusting enough to do so. And you don’t know when he does get sleep, all you know is you fight to the last possible moment your eyelids can stay open and you don’t sleep long. 

The exhaustion and the cold were beginning to wear you down, a week in and you had yet to kill a single person on this list because the Soldat refused to listen to how you can manage it. With him it’s all silent and watching, your missions were usually more lively. You wore disguises and set traps. Hydra liked sending messages and it’s what you did. 

They want a quick and efficient widow? They send Belova. They want a widow that draws attention to their dangers? A prize possession? They send you. 

Which is why this entire mission is so weird. Why send you if- before you can finish your thought you are being pelted with a warm jacket, the Soldat glaring at you. 

“Your teeth chattering is keeping me up.” He mutters in Russian, sitting up and checking all his weapons. 

“As if you sleep.” You reply back in Russian, rolling your eyes. His eyes flick to you in surprise for just a second before he trains them again, watching the window in the opposite corner. “What’s your name?” 

“Soldat.” 

“What’s your real name?” 

“I….. should the viper be asking questions?” He snaps, glaring once more before you roll your eyes and stand up. He watches your every move as you toss his jacket back and cross the room. “Where are you going?” 

“To be a viper.” You sneer back, enjoying the way the Russian makes the words bite out more. 

He stands up quickly when you move to climb out the window but you send him a glare and descend quickly, making sure he does not follow. 

When you get back three hours later, he is standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed and a glare on his features. 

You simply walk past him to grab your list, crossing off the first name. “Can we get an actual hotel this time? I need to shower some of this blood off.” 

As you move to walk past him his arm shoots out to grab you, pain erupting as he bends your neck to look at him. You would allow this, because is his anger is on you then he won’t look into the 2 little children you helped vanish tonight after you killed their father. 

“You do not make moves without me. Understood?” 

“Yes Soldat.” You try to nod before he lets go. 

“Viper.” He hisses. And you would allow it, because if anyone knew what you had done you would be killed. 

-

The three of you ended up in a warehouse not too far away from the roof you had been scouting on, bucky carrying your bag of weapons on his shoulder as he tried not to look at you while Sam paced back and forth. 

You sat on a fallen beam, seeming bored and uninterested as you picked at your nails. But Bucky knew that was your game, to let the world think you were a valid assassin with little to no care. 

But he knew you cared, he knew how much effort you had put into saving kids back then. You had always been so warm without even realizing it. 

But maybe that all changed, after it….. all happened he hadn’t heard about you again and after he was freed by Steve he couldn't seem to find any of the children you had saved. 

“What happened to them?” He finds himself asking, his chest pinching at the sight of you. His flower. But that look in your eyes, the betrayal and anger….. 

“The first three on my list? I dumped their bodies in the river.” You smile, turning your glare to Sam. “How about that pardon now?”

“The kids. The ones that you-“ you stand before he can finish his sentence , both him and Sam preparing for a fight as you seem to try and ease yourself. 

“What kids?” Sam snaps, anger and protectiveness rolling off of him. “Did you hurt-“ 

“No. She used to smuggle them out.” Bucky explains. “When she got missions if there was a kid in the family she would pretend to kill them, and help the kid out.” 

“I thought hydra confirmed kills by bodies.” 

“Not when you’re the best.” You smile, that vapid venomous smile that made Bucky's stomach churn. “And Soldat is right. I used to smuggle the kids out.” 

His chest hurts at the name you use, but he assumes that it’s fair. “Where are they now?” 

He wants you to look at him, to tell him they are all safe and that he didn’t ruin everything. But you keep your eyes trained away, pain flashing through your features as you explain. “After you…. Told them….. they got the names and locations from me and sent out the shadow widow.” 

“Kaltain Amerie.” Sam nods, recognizing the name. She was married to a fancy rich guy now, had been the one Yelena found. 

“She took care of what I couldn’t. She did the job.” You nod, hands fisting at your sides as the words clang into Bucky. “And I was punished for my failure.” 

“And the missions you got after they caught you?” Sam asks, casting a brief look to bucky at the word caught. 

“I had a partner, and they always made sure I did my job.” Fuck. 

He was going to puke, how many kids had….. 

“You mentioned an alliance. Not an interrogation.” You snap, obviously uncomfortable. “And if you want to revoke my pardon because of-“ 

“I don’t.” Sam says gently, nodding. “And I’m sorry that it happened.” 

“I’m not.” It was a lie and Bucky could taste it. Anything to keep both of them away, that wall you built up when he first met you. 

“Okay. The name on your list. Let’s talk about how to get him.” Bucky changes direction, wanting to get you to ease again, not liking the pain in your eyes. 

You continue to avoid looking in his direction, and he continues to stare at only you. 

- 

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

And she looks so pretty

Driving in your Benz

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

-

It’s a month into the mission when the Soldat tells you his name. 

Gone were the days of sleeping on opposite sides of the room, now you both shared a bed. Gone were the days of him not sleeping, and he was now the one that fell asleep first. 

Tonight being one of those nights, with you sitting against the headboard of the hotel bed, his forehead pressed into your thigh as he falls asleep slowly, letting you play with his hair as you review footage of your next name. The third on the list. 

“My name….” He mutters, this time in English which still shocks you everytime he does. “It’s Bucky.” 

“Bucky?” It tastes like vanilla on your tongue, your chest lightening as you whisper it a couple more times. “I like it.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“My file…. My file says Y/n.” You whisper back and he tilts his head up to look at you. 

“You don’t seem to like it.” 

“I….. it just doesn’t feel real.” You admit. “It feels wrong for me to use it.” 

“I think it’s a wonderful name. It suits you well but… I think you’re my flower.” He murmurs back, moving to press his forehead into your thigh once more and finally lets sleep claim him. 

The next morning you both work in tandem, cleaning weapons, he gives you time to make sure that your knives are still potent with venom as you try to come up with a plan to get the 5 year old girl out of the country without the soldier knowing. 

But the betrayal of it hurts your chest, watching him work around you as a smooth unit. A team. That’s what you had become. 

“Ready?” He asks in Russian, coming up to fix the hair that had fallen out of your braid, using his flesh hand to push it behind your ear as his thumb traces your jaw. 

“Always. You?” 

“With you my little flower? Always.” 

-

It was ironic the way you and the Soldat still worked in tandem, moving with an effortless grace. 

Sam, the captain, watches with wide eyes as you both move around each other. 

“Do we have-“ 

“Yes we have enough intel.” You snap, closing the camera footage the second you spot the young boy running down the hall of the mansion when both him and his mom get home. The pain in your chest could be blamed on the image, and or the stupid soldier standing too close to you. “I can smell your breath.” 

“He ate a cheeseburger for lunch again?” Sam chuckles and you stand straight, giving him wide eyes as the Soldat rolls his own. “You know you can’t get in trouble for calling him an idiot, right?” 

“I’m aware.” Your words come out clipped and you try not to shudder at the way Sam snickers, catching your lie. 

“Say it.” 

“Say what?”

“Call Barnes a dumbass.” 

“I won’t speak to the Soldat.” You reply, moving to clean your knives. 

“Oh come on. Try it. It helps me..” sam laughs, sitting across from you at the kitchen counter as the Soldat shuffles closer to help you clean the knives. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

“You….. are a dumbass.” You squeak out, not looking at him. You hear him snort behind you and he reaches across to grab another knife. You roll your eyes at the way he presses his body next to yours. 

“That was lame. Try again.” Sam laughs. 

“Fine. You’re a DUMBASS!” You snap out, watching both their eyes widen before laughs break out and they start cracking up. 

You feel your stiff spine loosen a little, the anxiety easing as you start laughing as well, all three of you cackling. His flesh hand finds its way to your lower back to keep you stable as you both drop the knives to laugh. And finally, after three weeks of working with them you drop the angry front, and give in to their warmth even though everything in you screams to not fall for it. 

-

“Is this….. proper mission food?” You ask from the spot you had taken at the window, watching Bucky and Sam come in with pizza boxes and beer in their hands, both laughing at each other . 

Bucky had, sort of tripped up on the stairs which sent Sam in a spiral of making fun of him, but the second they laid eyes on you that humor fell out the window, both going quiet. 

“You don’t think pizza and beer are good?” Sam asks, offended. “This is the best combo.” 

“Is it…. Allowed?” You ask again and Bucky feels that pang in his chest before he passes the box to you and opens it smoothly. 

“You get the first slice pick.” He offers and Sam gasps at the counter. 

“That….. oh that’s just cruel to me.” 

“It’s an honor to pick the first slice then?” You quirk your eyebrow, humor written on your face, the spark in your eyes setting him on fire. “This is a New York custom?”

“Oh indeed.” He smiles, pushing the box closer to you. “It would be a great dishonor to refuse this.”

There is a second of discomfort, he watches you contemplate it before you reach for a slice, grabbing the largest slice and raising your eyebrows as you wait to see their reactions. 

“Perfect choice!” Sam grunts, reaching around you to grab another slice. 

“I was going to choose that one.” Bucky smiles, watching you bite it immediately then stick out your tongue at him before taking up a spot on the couch as both of them find their own seats in the living room. You seem tense still, obviously not used to this sort of freedom anymore and his lungs constrict at the thought that this was caused by him. 

Back then you had been so… warm and open. Even as an agent you melted the ice exterior the soldier had around him. And through the muddled haze of his memory every memory attached to you was always crystal clear, like a flame in the fog. 

“So…. you guys knew each other back when he was the Winter Soldier?” Sam asks, popping the lid off of a beer with ease, he leans forward on his knees and pretends to be more interested in the pizza box. Making it seem like he was an open book, a comforting thing. 

“Yeah, we had a long list of enemies that they wanted us to deal with.” You answer, looking to the window rather than either of them. 

“It seems like it went wrong…” 

“It went fine.” Bucky is quick to snap. 

“It was fine. We made it through half the list, before Hydra had to get involved.” You snap as well moving to set the rest of your slice on the plate left on the table for you. “I made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t-” Bucky goes to argue, chest tight.

“I let emotions muddle my task.” You explain to Sam. “I got too attached and ruined it. And then I got caught smuggling the kids out- I was further reported for my behavior and handled accordingly.”

“Hey, this isn’t Hydra.” Sam tries to ease you. “I think what you did was very noble and-”

“All I did was give kids hope where it didn’t belong.” You sneer. “I will never allow myself that weakness again.” 

You cast Bucky a glare, his palms sweating and chest blistering as he watches you disappear into the bathroom and the shower running a second later. 

Sam continues watching Bucky, eyebrows pinched together. “You reported it?”

“I… as much as I broke away at that time I was still under the soldiers spell.” Bucky admits, gulping down half the beer in his hand. “I…. I had sent in a mission report. Well I had to send it in and I had caught her plan a little bit before that.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Buck.”

“I am too.” He sighs. “I got rewarded and she… well they broke her.”

- 

She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

- 

“You need to be careful in the upper levels.” He warns, keeping his flesh hand on the small of your back as you both move to start scaling the side of the house. 

“I know.” You growl out, keeping your voice low as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. “Don’t be a worry wart.”

“Stick to my side.”

“The job is quicker if I take care of the kids.” You mumble, leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly, the closest you had ever gotten to actually kissing him, no matter how much you wanted to. Three months with him and you were hopelessly in love. 

“Fine.” He grunts out, his Russian sharp. He nods once before moving to his starting point, checking that you had begun scaling the wall to the kids room before heading in to handle the parents. But you had been so caught up in Bucky that you didn’t check to make sure both the children were asleep. 

The girl screamed first, followed by the boy and you began rushing to ease their worries, kneeling by them and trying to swipe the tears away. “No no. Easy my little ones. It’s okay. I just need you to listen-”

But the boy screams again, this time at something behind you which makes you whirl to find Bucky in the frame of the door, watching intently with blood on his arm. 

“No! Please!” You beg, up on your feet and shoving yourself in front of the children as he cocks his head to the side. “Please.”

“Move.” He orders, raising his gun. It seems he’s already assessed the weakness and was willing to handle the problem. “Now.”

“No!” You hadn’t even realized that tears were falling down your face until you could taste the salt, moving forward to grab his gun. “Please!”

“The mission-”

“They are children.” Both of you were speaking Russian, which seemed to be scaring the kids even more as they wailed, and you turned to ease them again. They dash into your arms, holding you tight as they sob. You would die before letting anything happen to them. 

When you turn to see him again you see that he has lowered the gun and is merely staring at you, something sparking in his eyes. 

You wait for the blow, but it never comes. Instead he nods his head and moves to pick up the boy. He helps you get them out, aboard a ship and hidden from Hydra. When you make it back to the hotel you pace a bit, waiting for him to finish you off. 

But he merely stands in the center of the room, watching you closely. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob, hand on your chest as you turn to him finally. “I failed the mission and-”

He moves forward in three easy strides, his hands grasping your jaw to bring you up into a searing kiss, arms wrapping around you tightly as he lifts you off the ground to keep you close. And all anxieties peel away, as he lifts his hand to undo your suit. Giving yourself to the soldier that night, and once you were done you stay huddled together, whispering your dreams of the past and future. 

And for once you felt like…. You were home. 

- 

The next morning tensions were gone, and you seemed to have forgotten about the night before. Or at least you were pretending to, and Bucky didn’t know if he should be happy or angry at the fact. 

You had combed through all the footage of the target, piling it all into a folder and he had sent the flash drive to the people needed that would be able to get him arrested. And after that had been sent you had sent out another envelope to his wife, with proof of an affair so she would be able to divorce him. 

And just like that another name was taken off your list, and Bucky tried not to feel the pressure at the fact that he was sure you would be gone the second the list was done. And he wouldn’t have an excuse to see you anymore. 

He’s lucky Sam went along with this plan in the first place. 

“Where is Sam?” You ask from your spot at the counter, legs crossed as you play with one of your knives, watching him closely where he sits on the couch. 

“He went to go check on his sister and her kids.” He answers, looking up to you. “They are really close.”

“That’s nice.” You hum, dropping the knife out of boredom. “What comes next?”

“You got another name?”

“Are we allowed to start without Sam?” You ask, eyebrows pinching together. 

“Yes. We can. Your list?” 

“Front pocket of my duffel.” You hum out, something having caught your attention. He reaches for the bag and checks for the list as you shuffle closer to his open laptop. For a second he hears you hesitate, but he had already made it clear that you had access to anything so he nods and lets you look as he finds the paper you wrote the list on. 

His eyes skim across the names, landing on the very last name as his heart stops. ‘Bucky Barnes’ , and no matter how many times you blink the name does not disappear. Why did you let him see this? Was this a trap set?

He whirls, only to find you staring at the screen unblinking. “Flower?”

Your head snaps to glare at him as he shuffles closer, shoving your list in his pocket and looking at what had caught your attention. He finds an old sitcom, a scene with a mother curled up with her kids and reading them a bedtime story. 

“You never told me why.” He mutters, sitting on the couch with you on the floor staring at the screen again. 

“Why what?”

“Why did you risk your life for all those kids?”

“Because they… because no one fought for me back then.” You admit, turning to look at him. “What is this show?”

“Full house. I don’t know, Steve put it on my list.”

“Your list?” You ask and he nods. 

“Things to catch up on.” He smiles. “Like the star wars series.”

“The what?” He blinks slowly at your question, purely shocked.  

- 

Three hours later you are both sprawled out on the couch, pillows and blankets thrown about with snacks everywhere. Bucky had dragged you out to the store, buying tons of snacks that you had never tried before and before you knew it the apartment cupboards were packed with snacks and you were preparing to see the first star wars. 

“Should we… have brought all this to the mission base?”

“The what?” He laughs, leaning forward to snatch a gummy worm from the bag you were holding. 

“The… this apartment. Are we allowed to use it for this?”

“It’s my apartment.” He shrugs, and you blink slowly. 

“It’s empty though.” 

“I have a couch!” He scoffs. “And a tv!”

“No bed, no plushy towels or…. This is your home?” You didn’t know why this upset you. “You live like this?”

You want to kill him. You want to kill him. Why does this matter?

“I have a welcome mat.” He points to the door. 

“That’s an ugly welcome mat.” 

“Is not.”

“That would scare away any child on halloween.” You snap. “Are you trying to ruin their halloween?” 

“No one really comes up here on halloween.” He shrugs again. “Why does it matter?”

“You… you’ve been free! You have been free this whole time and this is how you live and- I…..”

“I had other things to worry about besides Hydra. And John Walker. Tony Stark and the snap and- well I was trying to find you.” He admits. 

“You were trying to find me?” Your chest constricts, as you watch him. “You tried to find me?”

“I did but after I was freed it was like they made you completely disappear and I’m assuming it’s because they knew I would start looki-” Before he can finish his sentence his phone rings and he sees Sams name, giving you an apologetic look before picking it up. You take a moment to try and fix yourself, taking deep breaths in. “He WHAT?”

This catches your attention, sitting up to watch him carefully as he stands. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and nods. “I gotta go help Sam. Stay here and-”

“I’m coming with you.” You snap, moving to grab your duffel.

“No, we have a situation with John Walker and I need to-”

“I am coming.” And just like that you grab your suit, giving him your best glare as he shakes his head. “You both are helping me. The least I can do is help you.”

“You don’t have to.” He mumbles. 

“But I will. Let’s go.”

- 

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

- 

“Thank you.” You whisper, keeping your head on his chest as you trace patterns along his skin. “Thank you for helping.”

“If you got away what would you do?”

“Me? I….. I would find the kids and make sure they made it. I would buy a house and get a cheesy welcome mat for it. I would decorate for halloween and….. And I would adopt a kid and-” You could taste the freedom, imagine it right there. A happy life. 

“That sounds… amazing, flower.” 

You lift your head, smiling softly as you lean up to kiss him, and he smiles back before moving to kiss you back. 

You feel him stiffen before sitting up quickly and reaching for his knife. “Bucky?”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can realize the door is blown open and agents rush in to grab you. 

- 

“Oh…. oh I like this duo.” John Walker smiles, watching you stand slightly behind Bucky with your arms crossed. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you, both giving him a good glare. The Winter Soldier and The Viper. “I hadn’t realized that Bucko boy came with his very own sidekick.”

“этот идиот знает, что от него пахнет рыбой?” (does this imbecile know he smells of fish?) You ask, sneering a bit and taking a step closer to Bucky. “и так небрежно использовать свое имя. Я могу сломать этого человека за считанные минуты.” (and to use your first name so casually. I can break this man within minutes.)

“Я с нетерпением жду этого. Еще я очень голоден, мармеладных червячков мне не хватило, чтобы поесть..” (I look forward to it. I'm also very hungry, gummy worms were not a sufficient meal)

You nod, trying not to smile as he gives you a look over his shoulder while Walker shuffles uncomfortably on his feet. “Shouldn’t we all speak english?”

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs. “But I find it’s easier to let these two do their thing. You said something about a raid?”

“There is a train heading down south here in 30 minutes and I know for a fact that there are rebels planning on stealing what’s on it.”

“What’s so important about what’s on the train?” Bucky asks, casting a look towards you and you see him catalog each and every one of your weapons just as he always used to do as the soldat. You give him a glare and he shrugs. 

“Weapons.” John mutters. “And if we can intercept the rebels then-”

“You get your job back?” Sam snides.  John stutters for a second and you snort, enjoying the panic on his face. He glares at you, preparing to say something as you step forward to grab one of your knives. You had no clue who this man was but it was easy to know that he was not an ally. 

“Get your-”

“She’s not a dog.” Sam snaps, as Bucky sneers. “We’ll help, but on our terms. No one gets hurt and no one gets pummeled without cause.”

“Fine. Let’s see what you guys can do.” John sneers at you both, and Bucky sends you an easy smile over his shoulder as you smile back. 

“Устроить им ад?” (Give them hell?) 

“следую твоему примеру, Барнс.” (Following your lead, Barnes) You smile back, both of you swiveling to Sam and moving together. 

- 

You stand with him on a bridge, keeping a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself as you keep an eye on the ledge, fixing the comm in your ear with your other hand as he does the same. 

“I….. I never wanted to betray you.” He blurts, as John tries to convince Sam to give him one of their comms, his argument of ‘I’m part of the team!’ almost making you snort. But Bucky’s words kept your attention as you tried to play it cool. Keeping your eyes trained on the bridge before you. 

“Is this a good time to talk about this?” You mutter in Russian, just in case Walker could hear you both like you could hear him. 

“It was the status report. They were making me do it every month and….. I fought it. I really tried to fight it.” He admits in russian, casting a look to Walker before turning back to you, his hand shooting out to wrap around your arm as you lean to prepare a landing. “Careful.”

“I thought…. You were…. Nevermind it was my mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He snaps, pulling you closer. “It… It was everything to me.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have kept my eyes on the mission and I ruined it and I ruined it for those kids. You were a weapon dangled before me, they knew I would fall for it. They knew I would fall for the freedom of it. And I’m sure they already knew that I was helping those kids and they just needed to prove-” The words are spilling out and you just can’t seem to stop them, tears beginning to fill your eyes. “I just wanted… I just wanted to help them.”

“You did.” He mumbles, moving until his chest is pressed to your shoulder. “Please look at me.” 

“I messed it all up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up-”

“I did. I fell in love.” You finally look at him, tears in your eyes as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I-”

“Incoming.” It’s Sam's voice in the comms that makes you both jump before you look to see the train coming. 

“On it.” You mumble back in english, stabbing a knife into the brick beneath you as Bucky keeps a hold on your arm. 

“Be careful, we’ll be right behind. Keep a knife ready and-”

“I’ve got it.” You laugh, watching the train get closer and closer. 

“I just worry.” He admits, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly. “And just so we are clear, I fell in love too.”

You try not to smile, giving him one last look before using the chord and launching down as you hear Sam count down in the comms, feet landing on the top of the train with a thud before you dive for the top grate and begin working on tearing it off. 

You manage to tear it off in time to duck and lay flat as a sign under the bridge appears, managing to avoid it before crouching and climbing in as the train breaks from the bridge, three heavy sets of footprints hit the top of it while you climb across boxes to get to the end of the cart. 

“Viper?!” Walker calls, landing in the crate followed by Bucky and Sam. You don’t bother answering, too busy trying to lift the shaft on the cart. 

“You good?” Sam asks, coming to your side. 

“I’m fine.” You mumble. “I can handle the mission sir-”

“Did you just sir me?” Sam laughs, leaning to help you with the shaft, letting the sunlight break in as the wind snaps in both your faces. 

“You guys see anything?” John yells across the way as Bucky hops over a box and reaches you both. 

You have just enough time to turn, ready to bite a response to Walker when you spot the bomb taped to the far wall. Your mouth opens in an attempt to yell a warning but it’s too late. It all blasts to shit. 

- 

There was nothing but pain as you hung suspended in the cell, the Shadow Widow sneering at you from her spot in the corner while Valkov took a break from torturing you. Your breathing is ragged, blood falling out of your mouth with the saliva as your eyes water. 

You can no longer feel your legs, and your fingernails had been torn out first. Sobs racking through your body as he asks the question again, his russian loud. 

“WHERE ARE THE LOOSE ENDS?!!”

You couldn’t betray the kids, you couldn’t do it. So when he picked up the drill you closed your eyes, sobbing once more as you try to blink Buckys face out of your memory, succumbing to your punishment. 

- 

Heat blasts against his back as you scream out, Sam yelling loudly, all three of you grasping anything you can as the train keeps going. 

Bucky’s metal arm finds purchase on a broken handle of the train, trying to pull himself up as Sam grips the side grates of the train trying to activate his falcon wings while you struggle to keep hold of what is left of the floorboard in the train car, nails scraping as you grimace in pain while your legs stay suspended in the air. 

“HOLD ON!” He calls, reaching his flesh hand for you before the metal of the door groans and he has to freeze. 

Walker appears, bleeding from his ears and looking frazzled as hell, but Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees the idiot reach to help you. Hope that you would make it out of this mess, that is until John stumbles as he reaches for your hand and ends up making you lose your holding. 

You scream out, nails scraping as you slide out, nearly all your body suspended in the air. Both Bucky and Sam scream, reaching for you before they realize they can’t. 

“When does this fucking bridge end?” Bucky snaps, looking down to the hundreds of feet below, memories flashing in his mind. 

“Language.” Sam grunts, exhaling in relief when he sees you manage to grab the final woodboard, your last chance at holding on. 

“Complete the mission.” You snap. “I can get up.”

“We don’t leave each other behind.” Bucky grunts, using his flesh hand to reach for a rope connected to the roof of the train car. 

“Hydra tells us we need to complete the missi-”

“This isn’t Hydra and I’m not leaving my girl on this train.” Bucky snaps and Sam whoops out a loud ‘fuck hydra’ as they both struggle to get to the main opening. 

There are thuds on top of the train and you risk a look to see multiple hooded figures with bags getting ready to ransack the weapons. A grunt of anger passes through you as let one hand free from the board, much to Bucky's chagrin as he yells out for you before you reach and grab your compact launcher you had hidden in the belt of your suit and shoot the roof with the grappling hook, pulling yourself up right in time for Walker to fall back into the car. 

“This manchild is useless.” You sneer, reaching for Bucky immediately, hands grasping his tactical vest and dragging him as much as you can into the train car as Sam struggles to get in as well. 

“There are about 15 figures. We should have about 10 minutes before they blow the rest of this train up.” You explain, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you assess him. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m-”

“I’m hurt!” Walker calls, making you hiss an unappealing word at him in russian before moving to look at Sam. 

“Do you want the viper or me on this mission?”

“Viper would be nice.” Sam nods, looking at all the weapons. “Viper for sure.”

You nod, turning to assess Bucky one more time before he nods at you and you both begin working.   

- 

While he was doing lines

And crossing all of mine

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shh again

- 

You both work in tandem, every punch he throws shoves the person straight into your kick. You slash your knife at anyone that gets too close to him, slicing their skin easily as he snipes out anyone rushing to the train. 

Sam is finding the rest of the bombs, disarming them to the best of his ability. 

You hiss in pain when you get hit in the jaw, but Bucky is there smashing the butt of his gun to the back of their head as you blink away the tears. His hand finds your jaw, assessing the damage before turning and nodding to the path you guys need. 

“So…. what’s the plan after this?” He asks, huffing as he gets to the slate you had originally been planning on clearing. 

“After this? Probably dinner.” You laugh, bending to break the controls. He adjusts himself so you were back to back, him watching to make sure you were good. 

“I mean…. After this mission.” 

“I….. I want to finish the list.” You answer, tearing out a board to access the rest of the control panel. 

“Does that list still include me?” He blurts, making you freeze. When you don’t answer he looks down to see you already staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“You saw that?”

“On your list. Highlighted and everything.” He nods, snapping his attention to a thud across the way, finding it empty. It was enough to get you back to work, focusing on the wires and buttons again. “I would understand if you wanted to-”

“I don’t anymore.” You snap. “I don’t think I ever would have been able to but it’s not like I planned to make it far after I got out. I didn’t have a plan. Everyone else had a plan and I was left! I was tortured and maimed for wanting that freedom, and when the time came I was the only one that had nothing to live for.” 

You were seething, and he could only agree. He hated the other widows for what they did to you, that would never be forgiven. 

“I wanted a family. That’s all I wanted.” You whisper, finally breaking the right chord. The lights immediately die out and the train lurches as it comes to a complete stop. 

“Is that still what you want?” He whispers back, holding his hand out for you to grab and help you up. 

“I don’t deserve it.” 

“You are the only person in this entire universe that deserves that.” He snaps. “And it’s important to me that you know that.”

“It’s not like I have much of a future open.”

“Well I think you have a bit of a future in the vigilante game if you ask me.” He smiles. 

- 

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

- 

“I’m sorry, you used to what?!” Sarah laughs, coming around the kitchen counter to grab a bottle of soda from your hand, eyes wide. “Dip your knives in lethal poison.”

“It made things easier. Even if I didn’t hit a vital organ I still knew the job was done.” You explain, shrugging a bit as she laughs. You still got nervous when talking about your past, but Sarah seemed anything but judgemental. 

Sam's sister ended up being your very best friend on this earth, which surprised you to no end. You loved her kids and you loved her. You especially loved girls night because you never thought this would be an option in general. Nonetheless you had friends now. You had a home, with a silly little welcome mat that was left on the porch for the trick or treaters every year. 

The very same one that was getting trampled on every time Sarahs kids ran through with your adopted children, covered in mud and laughing loudly. 

“Hey! Mind your mess!” She snaps out but you can’t stop smiling as you watch your adopted 4 year old chase after one of her sons. 

“What are you up to?” Bucky asks, coming in from the garage with Sam and Joaquin smiling from ear to ear as he rushes to kiss at your jaw. 

“We are getting ready.” You laugh, shooing him away. 

“For?”

“The Eras movie. You have daughters now Barnes. You need to get with the program.” Sarah scoffs playfully, making her brother laugh as they pick up the snacks and head to the living room. 

“Hey…. I just wanted to say thank you for your help on the mission the other day.” Torres smiles before following the rest into the living room leaving you with Bucky. 

“Hear that? Vigilante shit right there.” You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. 

“Still waiting for you to kill me.” He whispers against your lips, winking before heading to catch your daughter as she tries to dash past, making her laugh loudly and reach for you.

#marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel franchise #mcu franchise #marvel smut #mcu smut #marvel fluff #mcu fluff #marvel angst #mcu angst #marvel fanfictin #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier smut #winter soldier angst #winter soldier fluff

[actual-changeling]

I know that Ellie eventually going to school is a pretty much universally accepted part of the world building, but I am itching to explore her trying to do so and simply being unable to do it.

The child abuse she went through at the hands of FEDRA was probably prolific and cruel, and her life was basically nothing but different kinds of "education" strung together, whether that's whatever they cobbled together for general education or the military training. Joel might know it was bad (cause it's fucking FEDRA), but the extend of her trauma is hard to gauge when you are not in a situation that triggers it.

Her academic trauma does not disappear outside of school, but unless Ellie is in a similar situation it simply won't be immediately obvious (speaking from experience). On top of that, David being a teacher does not help whatsoever.

-

Joel and Ellie agree on a first day of school, but they want to check out the building beforehand, just so they're both a bit more at peace. Ellie is somewhat excited but also scared, and the closer they get to the building, the quieter she becomes, just hanging onto Joel's hand and squeezing it until her knuckles turn white. He pulls her close, notices she is nervous, but he doesn't press and gets them inside. One of the handful of teachers, a woman about Joel's age (they're aware enough to not have it be a man, Silver Lake is a known topic), meets them at the door and shows them around.

Small classrooms with surprisingly comfortable looking wooden chairs (Ellie sees the pillows on them and her mind short-circuits), some old sofas and couches, armchairs, spacious desks and all kinds of posters and materials. There's an art room and it is the only time Ellie's grip on Joel loosens a tiny bit, the array of brushes, paints, and instruments fascinates her, but that moment passes as quickly as it came.

With every step they take, the teacher's voice blurs with Joel's and turns into white noise, her vision grows fuzzy and grey, and she has to keep blinking with fluttering lashes to not sway on her feet when the dissociation gets worse. Absently, her mind keeps cataloguing the floor plan, windows, doors, all exists she can make our and imagine, but by the end of the tour, she cannot remember anything past leaving their house this morning. Something tugs on her hand, and she blinks up at Joel, his gaze loaded with a question she didn't hear, and maybe ten weeks ago she would have pretended she had; she doesn't know.

Ellie doesn't even know why she is reacting like this, there are no specific memories popping up, nothing to fight back, just her mind and body slipping into a protective armor of static like they're pulling her into the fizzling TV in their living room.

"Ellie?"

The teacher's voice snaps her back to a pounding heart and a breath stuck in her lungs, and when she looks down at their clasped hands her nails have left marks in Joel's skin. She lets go at once, holding onto her wrists with her arms behind her back, and she still didn't hear the question. Every cell in her body is telling her to leave, pulling her toward the nearest exit, but she doesn't. There are memories flickering across her vision now, a decade of unjust, painful punishments and her body being pushed to its breaking point, and she decides the answer to that question is more important than whatever they had asked her.

"What do you do? For, like, punishment?"

Her voice is steadier than she is on her feet, so she rocks gently back and force to stop herself from swaying. Joel's gaze burns hot on her cheeks, but she keeps her eyes on the teacher, whose eyebrows are raised so high they disappear beneath her fringe.

"Punishment? We don't- there's not reason to punish forgotten homework or the like here, Ellie, it's supposed to be both fun and educational."

Something about the tone in her voice unsettles her, but the answer isn't satisfying, and she needs to know, needs to know the rules so she can follow them, because the art room looks like it might actually be fun to be in and she is so tired of dark lonely spaces and marks on her back; imagining the disappointed look on Joel's face when her teachers tell him about it is the worst of it all, though.

"What are the rules? When are the drills and what's the consequences for breaking the rules? Is there-" is there a hole, she wants to ask, but her breathing is fast and shallow, periphery dotted with dancing black spots, and she doesn't want to give them any ideas they didn't already have. Joel's hand lands on her back, right between her shoulder blades, and the warm weight his comforting without being oppressive, her breaths slowing just a smidge.

The woman with a name Ellie forgot is taller than Joel with the shoes she is wearing, and she she squats down, the look on her foreign face looks like a a finished puzzle, the final piece having snapped into place. Her features are rounded, soft, a stark contrast to the borderline malnourished and hardened look of pretty much every person around the QZ including her teachers, a few light-brown and grey strands escaping from her ponytail, and Ellie can't help but think that she looks - nice, non-threatening. School isn't supposed to be non-threatening, but this whole building is dripping with it, and it scares her to death; getting this ripped away from her as punishment will hurt even more than escaping packed, concrete classrooms.

"You grew up in a FEDRA school, right?" she asks, voice almost tender, and Ellie can only stare and nod while Joel rubs circles into her back.

"I heard stories about what it was like before I came here, horrible experiences no one should have to go through, especially not a child."

She sounds so much like Joel the comfort laced into her words manages to penetrate the static and soothe some of the panic, her eyes a bright hazel shade, not blue, and she keeps her distance even though she could easily get into Ellie's personal space

"Even before the outbreak, school wasn't like that, and it is definitely not like that here. There is no punishments, Ellie, no real rules or structure outside of general lesson plans, no consequences for not turning in work or being late. This is meant to provide some stability and education, give you a places to hang out with people your age, have some more people to connect with. If you don't want to be here, no one will force you."

Ellie doesn't cry. She doesn't. A deep breath and some determined blinking pull back the tears from her waterline and her chest aches with a vengeance when she thinks about how different it would have been here for her and Riley, how much better. Riley would still be alive. For a few minutes, they're all silent, allowing her to gather the scattered pieces of herself and glue them back together, and when she does, a tiny bit of the fear in her bones has made space for tentative excitement.

"I like the art room," she says quietly, feeling younger than she ever has, and a wave of something washes over all of them. "Do I- can I-"

"You can use it whenever you like, even outside of school hours, as long as you don't leave too much of a mess and use it responsibly."

Liliya, her brain finally provides, straightens her back again, and the lack of a last name during her introduction is probably part of what through her off. Ellie looks up at Joel, a muscle in his jaw ticking with suppressed anger, not at her, at FEDRA, she knows him well enough to realize that, and decides her question about The Hole is both best saved for another time and hopefully not relevant at all.

"Okay," Ellie responds, pressing herself back against Joel and melting when his arm protectively wraps around her shoulders, "I'll give it a try."

Over the relief rushing through her hairs, she barely hears the details the adults next to her discuss, happy to bury her face in Joel's shirt without shame, and she manages to shake off the last wisps of static clinging to her. Maybe this will work out for her, maybe it won't, maybe all she will use are the art supplies, but when they are lead back to the entrance, more than ready to go home, Liliya gives her a smile, eyes crinkling. For the first time in her life, Ellie smiles back at a teacher simply because she wants to, and the hopeful excitement sprouting in her chest is enough to tell her that she will be right on time for her first class on Monday.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams #joel miller #ficlet #fedra school #some riley pain for Z <33 #joel is a good fucking dad and that teachers is a good person #and ellie has mommy issues and can and will get attached but more about that later #ellie has academic trauma in so many ways this is literally not even scratching the surface but it scratched my itch for now #wanna guess how long my little reblog is or what was meant to be little anyway #wanna take a big fucking guess? #if you guessed 1.3k aka a WHOLE ASS FIC you are correct #i cant- i cant even anymore #anyway #back to doing literally anything else

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Bit of a late update! Was playing cod lmao

Went into this chapter not knowing what to do with the two idiots, but the moment I put them in a room together, they just start writing themselves...

Also, the formatting on Google Docs decided to fucking change out of nowhere and it really annoyed me.

Price frowns at the three of them, displeasure and concern flitting in his eyes as he examines the state they’re in. Ghost is sure they’re quite the sight. Soap’s head is covered in blood, his eyes red from crying and with a pale skin, he looks like a bad cosplay of a zombie. Ghost is so tense he feels like his bones will snap, his muscles about as cooperative as a stone wall. Gaz is faring better appearance wise, but the Sergeant has been uncharacteristically quiet ever since they landed.

“Well? I assume you’ve found something.” Price squints, still unsure of what he’s supposed to do with his soldiers.

Ghost takes it as a signal for him to begin debrief, and he stands up on shaky legs, muscles screaming in protest, “no intel, two revenants extracted.”

The Captain sighed, clearly hoping for more. The other 2 teams haven’t found anything, the PMC disappearing like it usually does, “any hostiles?”

Now there’s something major they can give Price, “undetermined amount, non-human, sir.”

Price’s attention is caught, the previous frustrations gone, “explain.”

“They don’t have a face, take several headshots to kill, and turn to some sort of smoke when taken out.” Ghost resumes, “they all communicate somehow, the moment one of them spotted Soap, all of them rushed to him.”

Price strokes at his moustache, “I fear we’re not working against a PMC here, boys. This could be the work of one very sneaky revenant.”

Ghost has heard of similar powers in the past - corpse manipulation, illusions, mirroring. None of them exactly fit what they fought, though.

It seems they know even less than what they started with.

“What’s the status on the two revenants?” Price asks.

Ghost looks over at Gaz, who snapped out of his thoughts to answer, “unconscious, both of them. Medics said they’ll wake in a few.”

The Captain nods, “we’ll get them to questioning once they’re up for it. They’re our only lead for now.” he turns to Soap, expression softening a tad, “you solid, son?”

Johnny’s eyebrows raise, and he nods slowly, “aye, it healed already.”

And that means he’s miraculously fine, Ghost internally scoffs. Price obviously heard that, as he says, “take the day off, MacTavish. And get yourself clean, for goodness’ sake, you’re gonna scare a Vaquero to death and Alejandro will hunt me for sport.”

The Scot chuckles, “copy that, Cap”

“That goes for the rest of you muppets, I don’t want to see any of you before the revenants wake up, that clear?”

“Crystal.” Ghost grumbles.

After everyone else exited the room, Ghost made eye contact with Price. “Found a lead on Soap’s Reaping.”

Price’s brows furrowed, “there’s a reason it’s redacted, Simon. I can’t just go around and investigate every military cover up.”

Never stopped any of us…

“I’m trying to keep heat off of you, not endanger you further.” Price crosses his arms.

Ghost huffs, “with all due respect, sir, that’s a load of crap if I ever heard it. You know I’m not gonna forget about it, and I know you’re going to help me in the end.”

They stare at each other for a minute before Price groans, “what do you have for me, Ghost?”

He smirks under the mask. Can always trust Price to come through, “not enough, just a name.”

The Captain raises an eyebrow.

“Konchar. Supposedly, Johnny killed him after he downed his squad, but the Sergeant wasn’t… too coherent at that point.” Soap’s screams still echo in the back of his mind, the way memories have ravaged his Sergeant… it leaves a gaping hole in his chest.

“I’ll talk to Laswell, see what she can do. Don’t be surprised if she finds nothing.”

“I know not to expect good outcomes at this point in life.”

Ghost shuts the door behind him, clocking in a presence on the wall near it. He turns around to find Soap leaning on it, still as bloody as he was in debrief.

“Thought Price ordered you to clean up”, Ghost comes to stand in front of him, trying not to let his Sergeant see just how much his legs are shaking.

Soap gives him a lopsided smile, “decided I look better covered in blood and dust, some people are into that y’know.”

He probably saw Ghost’s unimpressed eyes, because his smile drops, and he looks away for a moment, “wanted to wait fer ye.”

Fuckin’ hell, he hopes Price can’t feel how his chest warmed up like someone lit a firework in his gut, “let’s get you to the showers then, no one is attracted to your stench.”

Johnny pushed off the wall, “I’m sure there’s at least one”

Ghost starts walking besides him, “don’t count on it-”

His left leg decided to give out at that exact moment, and Ghost inhales sharply, fully expecting to have a very up close and personal meeting with the floor, when two hands grab him.

Johnny pulls him back up, “shit, Ghost! Ye didn’t tell me yer fuckin’ broken!” he leads Ghost to lean on the wall.

“I’m not-fuck…” Ghost hisses as his leg muscles convulse, “not injured… Limbo was trying to get you, had to hold it back…”

Flames lick at his biceps, and he wants to close his eyes and indulge in how they relax his aching arms.

Soap doesn’t look convinced, and he gives Ghost a determined look. “Let’s go to yer barrack, closer than the showers.” He wraps Ghost’s arm around his shoulders, and makes him lean on the Scot.

Warmth spreads throughout him, “Johnny, I can fuckin’ walk-”

Soap starts walking, “aye, I saw how that worked fer ye before, haud yer wheesht.”

Ghost retorts, “English, Sergeant.”

“Shut yer mouth and let me help ye.” He takes them slowly to Ghost’s room.

“Much better.”

Soap looks up at him, annoyed, before he breaks character and laughs. It almost distracts Ghost from the pain in his limbs.

Johnny lets him off on the lower bunk bed, and turns around to close the door. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room when Ghost pats the space beside him.

Soap joins him and Ghost exhales, lowering himself further into the bed. He takes stock of the various degrees of discomfort coursing through his body, and feels his Sergeant shift.

“I’m uh… sorry fer what happened there.” Ghost lifts his head to frown at him.

“You’re sorry for getting shot in the head? Fuckin’ hell Soap-”

Johnny twists his body to face Ghost fully, “fer not recognising ye! For shouting and demanding shit, fer making ye deal with teenage me, Reapers know he was a feckin’ idiot.”

Ghost lifts himself back up to tower over his Sergeant, “you wanted me to leave you alone?”

Soap’s face scrunches up in confusion, but his eyes… they shine brightly with his radiant fire, “I- didn’t want you to… see that.” he breaks eye contact, looking away a little flushed.

“I wouldn’t let you go through that alone, Johnny.” He looks at the familiar flames brighten, “no running away, remember?”

Johnny’s features crumple, and slowly, telegraphing the movement clearly, he places a hand over Ghost’s forearm, moving up and down gently. Ghost is fixated on the motion, his world reducing to the point of contact, the heat it emanates.

“Aye, I remember.” Johnny almost whispers, his face still pained, and Ghost doesn’t understand why. Fuck, he wishes he could read minds like Price. “It’s just… I didn’t want ye to see it… but I think I needed it.” 

Ghost nods, as if he has the capacity to contain everything going through him at the moment.

Johnny finally meets his eyes, “I’ve never met anyone like ye, Simon. Ye make me think I’m human.”

Simon’s heart beats twice as fast at hearing his name whispered like that, and he swallows deep buried confessions, words that should never be let out to the air between them, “you are human.” 

“No. And neither are you. But we could pretend, right?” Johnny gives him a smile, and removes his hand from Simon’s. He wants to chase the heat, but knows better than to try and claim something so luminous such as that.

Simon closes his eyes, as if that would help the temptation, “we could pretend.”

When he opens his eyes again, he notices the stains of red still marring Soap’s head. Simon groans as he stretches towards the side table next to the bed, rummaging through one of the drawers.

Johnny leans in, “what are ye lookin’ fer?”

He grabs the pack of wet wipes and groans again on his way back to his previous position, “bring your face here, Sergeant.”

Johnny raises a brow but follows Simon’s lead. He opens the pack and fishes out a couple wipes, “stay still.”

Simon takes Johnny’s chin and turns his face to the side, bringing the wipe up and cleaning his temples with the same concentration and accuracy he would use in the field to line up a sniper shot. He uses up several, leaving a pile of pale pink wipes on the bed between them, but once the right side is clean he turns Johnny’s head again, observing how he closed his eyes.

He puts too much trust in him, Simon thinks to himself. He can’t help but feel comforted by the fact.

He cleans the left temple, following the small rivers the blood made on Johnny’s cheek. Once he’s done, he takes a few seconds to just… gaze at Johnny. He doesn’t avert his eyes when Johnny’s flutter open, the bright blue completing the vision he is.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours, just looking for the sake of it, just staring because they can. Because they both survived today.

A yawn from Soap breaks the spell they were both trapped in. “You still reek, Sergeant. Get yourself to showers and fuckin’ sleep.” Ghost gathers the used up wipes from the bed.

Soap hesitates, and gets up. “Aye sir. I… thank ye. Fer everything.”

Ghost doesn’t look at him, “don’t mention it.”

The door clicks behind his Sergeant, and Ghost makes to lay down. He’s too fucking exhausted to drag himself to the top bunk.

He settles in, staring up at the bars supporting the mattress above him. For once his mind is calm, his chest is warm, and all he can think about is the phantom feeling of flames caressing his forearm.

Ghost supposes he was dead tired, as he falls asleep more easily than he remembers he was ever capable of. 

He startles awake to the feeling of multiple hands grasping at him, “FUCKIN’-” Ghost jumps away from the bed, watching the hands return to the ground.

He suppresses a shiver while he notes the sun starting to set. Did it really take the bastards of Limbo several hours to try that shit on him?

Maybe his good mood leaked to them. He won’t look a gifting horse in the mouth.

Price’s voice fills his mind, “glad you feel better, Sleeping Beauty. Up and at ‘em, Lieutenant. The revenants woke up.”

Ghost opens the door to see the Captain smoking on a half-spent cigar. “You really have nothing better to do than stand and wait for me to get up?”

Price takes another breath of smoke, “I know when you start waking up, Simon.”

Right, Price probably knows his own brain better than himself.

“That’s for certain. Let’s move.”

When they reach medical, Ghost unfortunately spots Graves out of everyone looking around the beds. The fuck is he searching for?

“Revenants are in the back, behind the curtain. We wait for Soap and Gaz here.” Price informs him privately, before calling the American, “Graves, lost a soldier in medical?”

The man whips his head around, covering a surprised face with a shitty smile, “John! Just making sure none of our forces got hurt in the latest mission.” the bullshit couldn’t smell stronger, Ghost rolls his eyes.

Johnny and Garrick open the doors, and Ghost watches Graves’ face curl into shock for half a second before returning to its usual, easy going smile. Strange tosser, that one. Ghost wouldn’t trust him with a dart gun at his 6.

“Ghost”, Johnny approaches him, and he immediately turns his attention to his Sergeant, “you solid?”

“Affirm” he walks nearer to him, standing at attention.

Price nods to Gaz, probably exchanging a couple of words through his power, and addresses the group, “Vargas and Parra are busy with managing the base, they let us know we can go ahead and speak with the revenants. Keep questions to a minimum, they’re likely still disoriented from the entire ordeal.”

The soldiers nod and walk to the back, staying a step behind the Captain as he slowly moves the curtains to the side.

Ghost analyzes the two sitting in their beds. One man, light brown hair and moustache, fit, dog tags peeking above his hospital gown. Soldier, American, if Ghost had to guess. The other, a woman, instantly locked eyes with the captain, a band holding her long dark brown hair back. Her skin glistens oddly at the setting sun’s light, her brown eyes piercing and alert.

He looks back at Price, and is surprised to see shock over his features. He’s about to ask what’s got him like that when he starts talking.

“Commander Karim?”

The woman’s face relaxes, giving the Captain a sharp nod, “Captain Price. I would prefer if we stopped meeting this way.”

Shoutout to forestshadow-wolf for guessing correctly who the revenants were! I was impressed haha

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #cod gaz #cod price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #phillip graves #alex keller #farah karim #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #I love slow burn because like #these fuckers just touch each other in what looks like on the outside a friendly casual way #but inside theyre both dying yearning for each other #my fave book has the main couple only hug right at the end #and i wanted to die from how emotional that moment was #they never say they love each other #so you can tell what im going for here lmao

[haruhey]

The Day Will Come When You Won't Be

Enemies With Benefits masterlist

Word count: 5k

Chapter warnings: descriptions of everything that happens at the Negan lineup. If you can stomach that, everything else should be no problem.

The Saviors seize a hostage.

You should have never gotten on the truck.

But what could you have done, really?

“Got a new group out there givin’ us trouble, and I’m in the mood to settle some shit. Wanna come?”

He stood lent against your doorframe just 4 hours ago, the Virginian sun still streaming in from the tiny crack of wall you called a window, and he had that grin twisting his features. You’d been through enough of those looks to understand that, when it morphs his face, he’s not asking, and your skin had risen into those insistent, memory-laden goosebumps that come like Pavlovian instinct, forcing you to leave the scratchy linen of your sheets and pad across the frigid cement of your room.

In 10 minutes flat, you were dressed and loading into the seat you’re in now, and 5 minutes later you were peeling out of that hell-hole, a nonchalant humming coming from the man next to you as he taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, one half of some long forgotten rhythm muffled slightly by the leather of his glove. 

You keep your eyes on the flashes of trees as you ride on gravel roads. You don’t want to look at him. Or at the mirror, where you would see Arat and the bat resting next to her. You’re not sure if you can, souvenirs of its violence painting the metal wire. Knowing what will be happening once each checkpoint reports back, you’re not sure you could even handle the look of any of them.

It’s been months since you’d been forced into those 4 suffocating walls you’d refused to call home, and though you’ve lost a lot of yourself, your fear of Negan lingered no matter how much you’d wanted it to evaporate and disappear like the parts of you before it. It’s been months since he held that goddamn bat against you, but it doesn’t matter. That fear ignites at the worst times, knotting up your stomach.

You loathe it, but you’re powerless against it.

Maybe you hate that fact more.

There seems to always be an ever-present smirk on his face whenever it comes to ‘settling shit’, the promise of making a show of his unwavering power dangling in front of him and ramping up his excitement with each passing moment. You can’t remember how many times you’ve sat in this seat - the last group was a while ago, you think, the place with the huge house at the top of that hill - but as Negan’s hum changes into a whistle, that stupid overwhelming fear shoots through you, taking over your body for a second and banging your knees against the door when you flinch away from him.

The knock reverberates through the truck, the enclosed space doing you no favours when you take a sharp inhale at the pain, but the whistling stops, the crush of asphalt and the squeak of his leather jacket taking over as he turns to look at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Loosen up, princess. It’s not like this is your first time.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from responding to his poorly hidden double entendre and that stupid nickname which has wormed into his vocabulary. It was a joke - at least it was when it was a throwaway comment from Sherry after she had one too many sips of cheap vodka - but Negan seems especially inept when it comes to how close he thinks he is to you. He had pinpointed it and insisted upon it being some playful replacement of your actual name, and every fucking time he said it, you feel your blood start to simmer.

But you know what happens when you upset him.

He makes a show of it in front of the furnace, and you remember the pain which tears through you, but in private - a handful of Saviors for insurance and away from prying eyes, in front of his own stovetop and his squeaky cupboards and his hidden drawers - that’s what terrifies you. 

Actually, no. What scares you is the fact he can do all that and then act like it never happened.

He’d greet you in the morning like he was greeting an old friend, and just go on with his day.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Negan.”

Arat scoff does little to hide her smile - neither does he, an upwards curl of his lips before he turns away to do just that - and you let out a breath, shifting in your seat in an attempt to regain your bearings. It’s like walking on eggshells, each time you talk to him.

He’s volatile.

One day he’d brush it off with a laugh, but some days he would pin you into place with a look, and you’d go to bed with one more bandage than you’d had the night before. But he’s mellowed out since you’d first met him; either old age is taking its toll or he’s become comfortable in the status quo he’d hammered in with swings of Lucille and burnt faces by the iron.

“Well, shit, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

You let the question linger, and Negan peels into the gravel-faced clearing before you can let silence fully steal the space between the three of you. He slams the brakes as he turns into his spot, and it sends your body forward. You barely have time to lift your hands to brace for the stop, but you manage enough, your forearms pressing against the dashboard.

“Whoops,”

He pulls the keys from the ignition then, pulling a laugh from his chest before you hear a click from between the two of you, and he gets out, resting his arms against the top edge of the truck before leaning in with a wide smirk.

“Guess you should’a worn your seatbelt.”

Asshole.

You’re not sure at what point your abrasion had distorted in his head into banter, but, frankly, it pisses you off. It pisses you off because he couldn’t be more obvious with the fact he doesn’t think of you as a threat. As far as he’s concerned, you’re some angry chihuahua he’s ultimately got control over. Angry as all hell, but harmless at the end of the day. The more you think about it, the more it pisses you off, and though your mouth opens in the beginning of a retort, Simon’s static voice breaks through before you can form anything further. 

The group reached checkpoint C first.

“Pass me that, won’t you?” 

Grabbing the walkie-talkie from the cupholder, you chuck it at him without another thought, turning to open your side’s door as it hits his chest with a thump, and he even laughs at that, not missing a beat before the push-to-talk is engaged and his voice rumbles into the microphone. 

They reach a second checkpoint not much longer, the chained-up rotted soon after that, and radio silence follows after they reach the wall of burning trees. It must have freaked them out - it was Simon, after all, whose voice was the first and last they’d heard. They would have had to have known something was coming at this point, even if his presence at the flames was purely by chance. 

Sooner or later, they were gonna get sloppy. They were gonna get nervous - get desperate, and slip up - and they have no fucking clue what’s in store for them.

As the sun inches under the horizon, you sip nervously from your water bottle, the carabiner attached to its lid tinking against metal as your hand shakes. The Saviors had started getting into position just after sunset - an order that was barked by Negan echoed by Laura when she’d decided they were moving out a little too slow - but you’re stuck in place, your heart pounding in your chest and a lump in your throat that you can’t get down no matter how hard you try.

You’re leant behind a car, Arat sat in the driver's seat as she absentmindedly toys with the safety on her pistol, and you’re thankful for the Virginian night. It hides the shaky breaths visible from the chill after an unfamiliar RV pulls into the clearing, and it hides the flash of panic that crosses your face when Simon pulls out someone you can’t quite make out in the dark.

It’s starting.

You don’t know how many people are in the group. You’re sure Negan has told you - that big mouth of his never quite shuts up between the orders he gives you and the monologues he considers ‘conversation’ - but you never listen.

It can’t just be him, though, you’re sure of it. One man can’t have caused him to go all on the offensive like this.

Negan’s sat in that red-lined RV now, a short conversation with Simon wrapping up with a wolfish grin shot in your direction before slinging Lucille over his shoulder and waltzing into the open door, and you clip your water bottle back onto your belt, rubbing your temples to try and forget it.

It feels so pointless, every time you’re dragged to one of these stupid confrontations. You don’t even do anything here. You don’t grab automatics to ‘get shit done’ - you don’t douse cut-down trees in lighter fluid or tie up the infected for some sick psychological torture - you’re just some spectator in all this.

Every time Negan looks at you like that, that expression wiping across his face like that night you’d first met him, it’s like a taunt. It’s like he knows, even without making you kneel next to the squelch and crush of a head, that he can make you break out in a cold sweat and make you remember the fear that coursed through your veins when you had been.

You hate that he’s right.

When you hear the first few whistles, your hair stands at the back of your neck, and you try to blink away the first few tears threatening your vision. The Saviors are close - they have to be, even grouped up, whistles can’t get that loud - and as the two tones get even closer, you close your eyes and lean forward, putting your head between your knees as you prop yourself up against the trunk of the sedan. 

It was only a matter of time before they were caught. 

In the position you’re in, you urge your bloodflow to your brain in hopes that maybe - just maybe - it’ll work well enough that it won’t make you think of the first time you’d heard those sounds. You hope that it’ll melt the ice lining your muscles, but you don’t have to hope any longer when the lights of the parked cars turn on, breaking you out of your spiral with the momentary flash of white as you squint your eyes to adjust to the brightness. 

Despite the pain at your temples when you stare into the lit clearing, you’re thankful for it. It reminds you you’re here, not in a long-buried memory, and though you hate being here, you hate being there even more.

But you know this weirdly settled thankfulness won’t last long. As you watch them get onto their knees, whatever’s left of your morals are screaming at you to do something try to stop the way Negan swings open the door and waves Lucille like he’s at some pissing contest, but you know it won’t do anything. You know you can’t do anything.

You’re not sure if savior complex is the right word for what you’re feeling, but it feels funny when you’re in this type of situation.

There’s always an illusion of help - that maybe if you screamed loud enough or just spoke some stubbornly-ignored reason, you could be able to stop him - but you know you can’t. As the first bash of Lucille breaks skull, you know there’s no way to stop him. He swings and swings and swings, and it’s so silent save for the group’s sobbing and the constant thunk of his strikes.

You’re not close to them at all - the length of a car and several people separate you from the group - but you can see them well enough when you turn your head, your heart hammering against your ribs when you recognize that one of them is a kid and one of them looks so pale that she might pass out at any given second. The headlights illuminate them like some sort of demented spotlight, Negan’s shadow distorting across their bodies and their bloodshot eyes as he lingers the bat in front of one of them for too long.

You know what he’s getting at - he’s testing their fear, he’s testing how much more he needs to push before they crack and run back to their community with their tails between their legs - and you remember when you were there, a different type of acquiescing running through your mind. You knew you couldn’t do anything when you were the one knelt on hard ground. You knew that there were too many guns pointed at you and there was too much violence in Negan’s eyes.

The only people who would act on that impulse would be the stupidest people in the-

Holy shit. 

The only people who would act on that impulse are here. Or, at least one of them was.

He swung at Negan - that man who had blood running down his chest and blood covering his hands - made hard contact with the corner of one of Negan’s cheeks, and though he’s subdued in almost an instant, you can’t look away. An odd sense of fascination keeps your eyes glued to the scene in front of you.

You don’t remember the last time anyone’s swung at Negan - let alone at a lineup - and you can’t help the spark of a long-forgotten hope that sparks within you.

He’s brave, that much is obvious. 

But still, he’s stupid as all hell, held down to the ground as Dwight points a crossbow at him, staring straight at the barrel of it like a trapped animal, and you watch them drag him back into place, a sick feeling crawling into when Negan rises back to his feet.

You know what’s coming. You were on the receiving end of this once, too.

You know defiance gets you nothing except another grave to dig.

And though you’re expecting it, your hands balled into fists at your sides as if to somehow cushion the consequences of not looking away, you still recoil when Negan brings Lucille down on a different man.

It’s different, this time. This man doesn’t use his last bit of consciousness for a well-deserved ‘fuck you’ to Negan. He uses it to tell someone that he’ll ‘find her’ - holds on to his coherence and fights the rushing blood and pain to try and get out more - but he can’t, Negan’s voice filling the space with a mock of sympathy.

Then he swings again, and your stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself, rushing up your throat and through your lips. You turn back away from the scene, hoping that it’ll erase you from whatever the hell is going on, but it doesn’t and in a split second, you’re throwing up. Everything you’ve just seen finally catches up with you and you’re really throwing up, but nothing is coming out except pieces of a granola bar and the ocean of water you’d tried to calm yourself with.

It hits the line between the gravel and the sparse grass, and you take a step back to avoid it, but nausea hits you like a wave and makes you stumble. The trunk of the sedan stops you from moving any further, and you place a hand on it to steady yourself before taking a step to the side and then another, leant forward with your arm in front of you until you can brace on a tree.

Jesus Christ, did you really manage to forget the reality of this? Did you really manage to forget how the air smells when it’s tinged with this much fresh blood? Or how fucking haunting the sound of so many people crying is?

It seems you have - at least, you forgot how overwhelming it was - and you’re not sure if you’re furious or happy that you have.

But now you remember. You remember kneeling and your ribs stinging with each breath you took. You remember the smell of your friend’s blood coming from right next to you. You remember the way your eyes burnt from all your crying and the way your chest hurt with each sob that ripped through you. You remember it all, down to each blade of grass.

Stop overreacting.

There’s always that voice in you that berates when moments like these happen. It curls its lips up in disgust at the fact you’ve let yourself become so terrified, and you loathe yourself for it, a reminder of how it had all gone wrong that day and how you’d let it. It speaks tenfold, the image of that man even just trying to swing at Negan sharpening its words to a point and cutting you with its disappointment. 

Even though you try to convince yourself you’re not there anymore, it all feels so real that you can’t help but spiral.

God, you’re such a fucking- 

“Hey! Hey, y’alright?”

You’re not sure how long you’d spent lent on that poor tree, the intensity pulling you from reality, but it doesn’t matter because, when Arat places her hand on your shoulder, you flinch away, stumbling on your shaky legs. It feels like it’s been ages - your mouth is cotton and your ears are ringing - but it can’t have been long, the sun barely starting to rise.

“Yeah, fine. Great. I’m great.”

Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you ease yourself back into a stand, blinking hard before looking around and ignoring the suspecting squint of Arat’s eyes. You’re pretty far out, a couple meters past the closest vehicle, and when you spot the pistol strapped to her thigh, you can’t help but wonder if you could just go. 

If you just reached down and took it - if you just concentrated enough pressure to one spot at the side of her head - would she be knocked unconscious, giving you the opening to run?

But you know you can’t. Well-aimed pistol whips barely knock people out as it is, and you haven’t eaten anything substantial since the day started. There was no way you’d be able to do it. The second you bolt, Arat would tackle you. Even if you knocked her out, you wouldn’t make it far, your legs would give up as if they knew he would end up finding you.

He always does.

“Here, eat this.”

A tiny plastic packet is pressed into your palm before she steps back, grabbing your arm and dragging you back towards the clearing. With the darkness ebbing away, the headlights have been turned off, and you can see everything without its blaring harshness.

The scene looks even sadder in natural lighting - tracks of dried tears and slumped shoulders lined up one by one - and all of them refuse to move their heads from where they’re frozen.

But one of them is missing.

Leaning against the sedan, you rip open the packet with your teeth, your fingers still lacking feeling from what Arat had caught you in just moments ago, and you try not to look at the center of the clearing as you force down the crackers.

It’s then when you notice the RV is gone, and it’s then when you realize Negan’s gone too.

It doesn’t take long to connect the dots, and when you finally glance back over to them, you finally figure out who’s missing.

He’s the leader, then - curly hair and fur-lined jacket.

Break him, and everyone falls in line.

The sun comes up soon, lighting the clearing through the gaps between heavy-set trees, and the RV peels in not long after. You watch with the same pit in your stomach when Negan pulls him out by the back of his collar, and as he yells his demand of him to chop off his son’s arm off - as he stops him before he really does it - everyone knows that, whatever Negan had set out to do, he must have done it.

Dwight loads the man who punched Negan into the van he’d come out of - and he shifts his weight when he gets in, swaying like an animal trying to escape - and you find yourself curious about him. You watch as Negan leans in just a foot away to talk to their leader before rising back onto his feet, and you learn that the man’s name is Daryl.

And as much as you hate agreeing with Negan, he really does look like a Daryl.

“We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then, ta-ta.”

He throws their axe over his shoulder, a nonchalance in his gait, and he’s quick to hop back into the truck he drove over, letting out a theatrical sigh as if to say ‘all in a day's work’ without actually saying something. Though, knowing him, he’d probably love it if his voice carried for a moment more.

You contemplate where to go as you watch everyone start to disperse - if you’d asked, would Dwight be willing to let you sit shotgun in the car he’s keeping Daryl? Or should you follow to wherever Arat is going and try to figure out a way to thank her for the saltines that have settled your stomach for the time being? - but you don’t have time to move your feet before you hear a familiar voice calling your name and banging against the car roof.

“Get on in, princess.”

Negan sticks his head through the driver’s seat window, and you pull your lips into a line before taking a deep breath and turning your feet in his direction. He’s looking at you with an easy smile, but you keep your eyes on the ground instead, walking behind the wall of cars to mitigate some of the embarrassment you feel at any type of association with Negan.

You look over at the group before pulling at the passenger side handle, and some of them are looking back at you. The woman who had spoken up is studying you, so is their leader and the kid and two of the other women, and you feel shame course through you at their glares. You tear your eyes away from them and blink harshly before hitting the seat, and you slam the door shut, taking a deep breath as you refuse to look at Negan as he barks orders through the open window.

You watch them as all of the Saviors loads back up, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering if this was what you looked like on that night, too. Was this what you would have looked like on that soccer field if he hadn’t taken you before the sun rose? 

You can’t blame them for it, though.

Because it’s your fault for letting him push you around like this, isn’t it?

Because you’re so scared of being out there alone, you’d do anything to survive, wouldn’t you?

Because he’s scarred you enough times for you to think like that, hasn’t he?

Swallowing hard, you try to stop that stupid voice from running by pulling your legs up to your chest and tapping a lazy rhythm onto your shin. It’s comforting. It reminds you of the world before - when you’d slaved over schoolwork to it playing mindlessly out of your old cassette player - but also of how things were before you met Negan, its tune playing through that rusty old vinyl player you’d dug up.

You hadn’t heard it since. 

“Hey, your little… blegh, during the shit that went down, you alright?”

Your eyebrows meet in the middle of your forehead as you turn to look at him, trying to figure out if there was some hidden motive behind what he’d just said only to conclude that there doesn’t seem to be. 

“Yeah, fine. Doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Your face relaxes as you speak, and you shake your head to try and convince him to drop it. Turning back towards the window, you study the trees as they pass by once again, and it feels like you’re back in yesterday, blurs of green the same way they’d been when he’d driven you to the clearing. There’s some peace to be found in the colour, but he breaks it before it settles.

“Go see the doc when we get back.”

It turns out that your response just wasn’t convincing enough for him, so he tells you what to do, and you think about how this is always how it is with him. You think about how it’s never a suggestion - how you never get a say - and how it’s always an order you’re just expected to follow.

Guess you’re clocking into your shift earlier than expected.

“You got some boyfriend I don’t fucking know about or something?”

Scrunching your nose at his digging, you give him a curt response - ‘I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re implying’ - and when he speaks again, you can hear the way a corner of his lips turns up.

“You haven’t been screwing around?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer.

Instead, you let an emptiness linger as you chew at the inside of your cheek, wondering if you really should say what’s hanging on the tip of your tongue. It could get you in trouble - no, it could get you in a shit ton of trouble - but you do it anyways, some feeling gnawing at you to take a hint from that Daryl guy and just be brave for once.

“You didn’t have to kill the Asian guy.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“I let you get away with a lot of shit, y’know that?”

Then panic comes - it drips slowly, down from your hairline and stings from your forehead down to your chin - but you stave it off before it can shake your voice.

“I’m just saying that you-“

He interrupts with a raise of his gloved hand, the pieces of dried blood on it cracking with the open and close of his first, and for that second where you think he might hit you, you flinch away by instinct, pinching your eyes closed to brace for it. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it, but the impact never comes.

“If you were one of the limp-dicks out there, I would’ve thrown you in a cell for questionin’ my goddamn authority.”

Instead, he places his hand back on the steering wheel with a small smile, his words making you let out a breath, and you find yourself listening more intently than you care to admit. 

“But that’s why I like you, isn’t it, princess?”

Your jaw strains at the stupid nickname, but the playfulness that’s wormed into his words makes your tensed shoulders relax just the slightest. 

“Pullin’ me back and really putting shit into perspective when that shit needs it. I like that, keeps me in line. It shows you’re really lookin’ out for the future of this place.”

It takes all the strength in you not to scoff, but some of it slips out, a tiny huff followed by a twist of your lips, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that it’s definitely not a smile. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows you’re not looking out for the Sanctuary or the Saviors when you find the courage to mouth back at him. Why else would he keep dragging you out to shit like this?

It’s to keep you in line, you’re sure of it. It’s to keep you in line as if reminding you of that night would keep you locked in your room and stuck where he wanted you. He’d dragged you back to the Sanctuary one too many times for him to just not care about you anymore.

“It was just- it was just unnecessary, Negan. If you liked the balls on the guy who punched you, you could’ve just taken him and left and ended everything there. You didn’t have to kill the Asian guy or do any of the stuff you did afterwards, either.”

The breath that escapes his mouth as a barely-audible whistle, his frown oddly approving before he questions you. His voice isn’t condescending or accusatory, you don’t think, but there’s a dangerous edge to it, like something could go wrong if you answered it wrong. 

“You know what they did, right?”

But you don’t have the right answer, so you just don’t say anything. 

“They ambushed the whole fucking satellite station! Killed every one of them! The blood’s on their hands, so I would say it was pretty fuckin’ courteous of me not to cut off their dicks and kill every last one of ‘em, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t find the words to refute that - not when his voice rises enough for the vibrations to run through the car and work their way into your bones, or when he gestures with that same gloved hand that’s done more than its fair share of things to hurt you - but even if you did, he gives you no time to respond, anyways.

“So you still wanna debate morals, princess? ‘Cause I don’t think you understand the whole damn scope of what they did.”

His voice drops down, but it doesn’t hide his irritation, and you swallow down the spit that’s made home in your throat. Nobody told you what that group did, but you think you know why, biting down the smile pulling at your cheeks. 

They’re the only ones to have tried it and done it successfully.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t.”

The rest of the drive is silent.

#haruwrites #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #haru's ewb #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

[gemini-sensei]

Hawk and reader are dating but reader has a crush on moon and Hawk knows about it so one day they are having sex then Hawk starts talking about Moon in the middle of sex because it's turning reader on even more.

"I saw the way you were looking at Moon today. She was pretty hot, wasn't she?"

Reader moans at the mention of Moon, memories of her friend in a thin bikini coming to mind. Her pussy clenches around Hawk's cock just thinking about her and how her bikini top almost came off when the ocean waves hit. Moon's laugh played on repeat in Reader's head, wishing her beautiful voice would say other things to her.

"Fuck, I know you do," Hawk grunts over her. When she looks up, he's smirking at her. His cock hits hard and deep while she holds onto his shoulders for dear life. The bedframe won't last much longer as it's repeatedly slammed into the wall behind her. "Bet you wish she were here, right? So you can play with her pretty tits while she watches me fuck this fat, tight pussy of yours."

Reader whines, gushing arousal at the idea. She nods feverishly, wondering what her friend would think if she knew they spoke this way about her in bed.

Hawk leans down, chest to chest, quickening his pace as he brushes his lips over Reader's ear. "Bet you wanna kiss her before she buries her face between these thick thighs and eats my cum out of your cunt."

"Eli!!!" Reader moans. He pushes her closer and closer to orgasm with every word, each idea just as hot or hotter than the last. She wants it all. She wants Moon, and he knows that. " 'm gonna come!"

"Are you now?" he teases. "Gonna come all over my cock while you think about making out with Moon? Her hands all over you, squeezing your tits, finger fucking your cunt, putting her mouth on you."

Her belly grows tighter and tighter until it finally snaps and a rush of hot fluid escapes Reader. She throws her head back and cries out, clawing at Hawk's back as he continues to drive into her squirting pussy. It makes a mess between them, under them, all around them. Her gummy walls squeeze him, milk him for everything he has to give her.

"Fuck, you'd look so hot under her, your hands in her hair, my cum all over you both. Wanna watch her eat you out just so I can fuck more of my cum into you. Watch you kiss her while I do it," he grunts, slamming himself into her harder. He loses the rhythm, loses the pace. He groans, then chokes up. "Oh fuck!"

He comes hard, shooting his load deep into Reader as he presses his hips into hers. A small whine leaves his lips as he watches her, feeling the way her pussy practically sucks the cum from his dick. She looks so pretty under him, dazed and satisfied as her body trembles with pleasure. He tweaks her nipples and makes her squirm under him, her hungry cunt grinding against his base as he groans.

"Maybe... maybe I can share you with her," he chuckles, out of breath. She smiles up at him, tired and lazy, and he kisses her as a sort of promise.

#hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz smut #hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #eli moskowitz headcanons #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz smut #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz #smut blurb #cobra kai blurb #cobra kai #cobra kai smut thought #cobra kai smut #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #cobra kai moon #moon x reader #moon x chubby reader #gemini sensei

[girlylukehughes]

Get him back!

trevor zegras x reader, jamie drysdale x reader, part one of the suneater au!☀️

part one, part two

Warnings: asshole trevor, cheating mentioned

wc: 1078

Y/n “Peach” L/n had met Trevor Zegras last summer while visiting her parents in Michigan. She was sitting in a tall barstool, simply people watching, when the tall blonde boy tripped over his own two feet and landed on the floor right in front of her. “Damn so people really do fall for me huh?” she said with a cocky smirk on her face, and an even cockier one appeared on his. “Yeah totally my plan of action here,” he said with a laugh, “I'm Trevor.” Peach reached her hand out to help him off the floor, “Y/n, but everyone calls me Peach.” Looking at her Trevor could probably tell why, her hair was the color of a ripe peach, “I'm guessing that has to do with the hair?” he questioned. “Partially, also because I grew up on a peach farm in Georgia.” So that’s where the accents from, he thought. “Well Peach, I’d love to buy ya a drink.” With the smile widening in her face, he already knew her answer would be yes.

Two months after that the fighting started. On their nights out his eyes would wander from his girlfriend to the other women in the bar. His ego didn’t help either. One night Peach was finally fed up with it and started speaking her mind. “You know it really sucks you scour for other women when I’m literally right next to you.” She scoffs, throwing her keys into her side table by her apartment door. Instead of feeling ashamed he just let out a small chuckle. “Babe I’m a professional hockey player, I’m 6’2, and I mean, come on, you’ve seen my body. Why wouldn’t I look when I could get anyone else I wanted.” Peach could feel the tears brimming in her eyes but she blinked them away and turned around. “For fucks sake, your ego is bigger than you dick I swear, and that’s saying something. Also Trevor, your height is literally public record, try knocking two inches off that.” In reality the relationship should have ended with that conversation, but he was so much fun to be around. Sure she thought his friends were weird for encouraging his behavior when they knew he had a girlfriend but when they’d go to parties and not come home until the early hours of the morning, all she could think about was the fun they have.

July 2022

pic-ingpeaches just posted!

Liked by trevorzegras and 722,382 other

pic-ingpeaches: another song, another club, anther bar, another dance

load comments….

trevorzegras: god damn

user28: you’re so pretty

user17: trevors comment???

jackhughes: hm

^pic-ingpeaches: ok weirdo

user81: not her flaming jack😭

comments on this post have been limited.

After every fight Trevor had a way of making up for it. Whether it was getting her nails done, new shoes, a new bag, or some jewelry, it was always something expensive but never something thoughtful. After she caught him cheating she should have called it quits. But the next morning on her beside table sat a plane ticket to France.

November 2022

pic-ingpeaches just posted!

Liked by jamiedrysdale and 1.3 million others

pic-ingpeaches: city of love with my lover

comments on this post are off

Peach had finally had enough when winter turned to spring and called it off after an argument about Trevor trying to get with her friends. Everytime she thought she missed him she’d just remind herself of all the shitty things he did to her. She didn’t know if she loved him, and she wasn’t sure if it was hatred or embarrassment she felt, but one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to get him back. She wanted to make him jealous, make him feel as shitty as he made her feel. She’d see pictures start to pop up in her Snapchat memories and it’d make her miss him and she’d get upset but the sadness and longing never overpowered her need for revenge.

Many letters and long winded texts had been drafted but never sent when she’d miss the way he kissed and the jokes he’d tell her that had her clutching her stomach with tears in her eyes. Peach would pour her heart out and almost hit send or put them in the mailbox when she’d see her friends' faces in her mind, because they all knew what he did. They all knew he’d continue to do it.

June 2023

pic-ingpeaches just posted!

Liked by jamiedrysdale and 2.6 million others

pic-ingpeaches: he said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth

load comments…..

jamiedrysdale: he’s an idiot

^pic-ingpeaches: truest words ever spoken!

user10: jamie😭

user59: damn if someone would cheat on you I’m FUCKED

jackhughes: weird

creator has blocked this user

user17: HER BLOCKING JACK I CANT

load more comments…

When Peaches ran into Jamie while getting coffee they sat down and caught up, one coffee meet up lead to two, which lead to three times a week. After a month of them meeting up three morning as a week Jamie had a proposal, “Go on a date with me, a real date. Not morning coffee but a nice dinner.” Peach really wanted to, she really did, but she wasn’t going to ruin a friendship. “Peach, you said you wanted to get him back right? This is the way to do it. Make him jealous, make him feel embarrassed.” Her heart was beating a mile a minute, “Jamie, I do actually like you, like romantically, you know that right? Like this wouldn’t just be a ploy to get back at Trevor, I’m in this for real.” Jamie’s face lit up, “I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” “Well then Drysdale, pick me up Friday at 6.” Grabbing her bag she wakes out of the coffee shop, sending him a grin over her shoulder.

When Jamie showed up that Friday he had a giant bouquet of flowers in hand and a nervous look on his face. She was stunned, Trevor never got her flowers, hell no one had, but here was Jamie. Standing outside her door with at least $200 worth of flowers in his hands. The night was great, full of teasing jokes, blushes, and a sweet kiss at the end of the night.

pic-ingpeaches just posted!

Liked by 3.7 million people

pic-ingpeaches: got him!

Comments on this post are turned off

imessage

❌tr*vor❌: what the fuck

read 3:20pm

navigation

#trevor zegras x reader #jamie drysdale x reader #jay speaks!!🪩 #Spotify #suneater au!☀️

[zirawrites]

How would Romanced!Companions react to a Synth version of Sole's spouse coming back?

Cait: “You’re not considering replacing me with a robot, are ya?” Cait asked as if it was an obvious joke. Sole would clasp her shoulder and reassure her that no one could ever take her place. But instead, Sole looked at their feet in shame. “He’s/She’s a synth, for fuck’s sake! I’m a real person!” She shoved Sole. Tears stung her eyes. Cait could hardly speak when she added, “I love you, Sole. This thing does not.”

Curie: “I understand the plight of synths as well as any of us. But Sole... this person is not Nate/Nora. Surely they know this?” Curie listened patiently as Sole explained how their spouse’s synth had memories of their marriage and Shaun. Hell, they even remembered when the bombs fell. “If you must help them navigate these feelings, I support you, my love. I just need reassurance that throughout this journey you remember our own special bond.”

Danse: “That is... disturbing.” Danse understood exactly what it was like to have memories that weren’t your own. A voice sounding like someone else. A body that was created to house a different soul. His veins iced with terror when he thought of what memories Nate/Nora held of Sole. And if that changed his relationship with them. “What are you going to do?” The question made Danse’s belly heavy as lead. He almost didn’t want to know their answer, but ultimately it was Sole’s choice.

Deacon: Deacon sometimes wondered what he’d do if another synth of Barbara came back. He knew she wouldn’t be the original, but the Institute would’ve probably loaded her brain with memories of their marriage and lazy days on the farm and dreams of starting a family. Maybe even darker ones, such as her murder. He truly felt for what Nate’s/Nora’s synth was enduring. Hell, he could only imagine what was going through Sole’s own head. The spy just had one question, and he asked it as he stroked the back of Sole’s neck with a tender touch. “Will you choose me?” Deacon didn’t have it in him to admit to Sole that he’d choose them over Barbara every time. Even the real Barbara. He was afraid Sole would think he was lying.

Hancock: “Does he/she have everything he/she needs?” Hancock knew how dangerous the Commonwealth was for a newborn synth. Their occasional memory lapses and self-doubt made for unsavory scams and itchy trigger fingers. He would worry about any jealousy he harbored after he made sure Nate/Nora and Sole were safe. “Tell them to come to Goodneighbor. Hell, I’ll even bring them home myself.” Sole tried to search Hancock’s eyes for any lingering feelings, but the ghoul stayed stoic and calm. “I know we’re thick as thieves, Sunshine. I ain’t about to let anyone fuck with what we got.”

MacCready: MacCready used to have nightmares about Lucy when he and Sole first got together. He dreamt that she found them asleep in bed; his muscled arm slung over Sole’s body like a security blanket. Even after he woke up, MacCready could still hear Lucy’s soft crying in the birds chirping outside his window or water running as Sole drew a bath. Moving on from Lucy sometimes felt like betrayal. But now Sole didn’t have to move on from Nate/Nora, and he wasn’t sure where that left him. “I’m, um, happy for you. But, I mean...” MacCready anxiously scratched the back of his neck. “Where does that leave us, Sole? Are you gonna leave me for a synth?” Because the truth was, MacCready would never leave Sole for Lucy’s ghost no matter how badly she haunted him.

Preston: “The Institute will really stop at nothing to get you back.” Preston was sure this was the boogeymen’s last attempt at stealing Sole from the Minutemen. Yet underneath his initial anger, there was worry. He wasn’t sure if Sole still loved their spouse enough to leave him for their imitation. “Promise me you won’t fall for it, babe. This has to be a trap.”

Piper: “You know they’re not really your spouse, right?” Piper was terrified at the prospect of Sole’s husband/wife returning. She had no idea if Sole would leave her for them. And if Sole did, Piper worried it meant she’d been a placeholder all along. “They’ll walk and talk like Nate/Nora, but it isn’t them. I’m really me, Blue. Just... remember that when you’re with them.”

Nick: Nick was extremely sensitive to Sole’s feelings when Nate/Nora returned, albeit as a synth. Sole had already been through so much, and he was worried this would rekindle their grief. “Anything you need, just let me know.” He knew Sole wouldn’t leave him. His partner just needed space and understanding.

X6-88: X6 was furious at Father for bringing back Sole’s spouse. Everyone in the Institute knew how close he had gotten to Sole, and he worried their relationship would be thrown away to this... lesser synth. “Be wise about this, Sole. They aren’t who they think they are. That’s the entire point of rogue synths.”

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #why were deacon's and maccready's so edgy i apologize #i've always wanted to write a fic about this #fallout 4 deacon #maccready #nick valentine #fallout 4 piper #fallout 4 cait #curie fallout 4 #x6-88 #preston garvey #paladin danse #hancock