#but the group doesn’t trust him anymore ;————; and he figures he can just stay like this bc pushing them away would be easier

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader P2

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronius, you’ve worked your whole life to become an Engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn’t want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as a present father figure.

A/N hope you guys eat this up

Credit to russellius for the GIF

“Max, hey bud” Charles says walking up to Max, patting him on the back. The group formed around Sergio, Dani and Max. All of them wanting to know why Y/N was in the Red Bull garage.

“Hello Charles” Max smiles taking a long sip from his team water bottle.

“So why was mini Wolff sneaking around here, is she with one of you, well more likely Sunshine Boy over here?” Alex asks, hoping for his prediction to be right, obviously thinking Dani to be the most likely choice considering both Max and Sergio were off the market.

“Unfortunately no” Dani sighs dramatically leaning against the wall.

“One of your fine engineers then maybe?” He adds, he wanted to be right. Lily and Y/N were close friends and Lily had admitted that she had been acting strange for the last few months. Kind of like when she has a secret new boyfriend who she thinks her dad won’t approve off, just slightly different. He trusted Lily on her judgements and didn’t think she’d be wrong.

“No, not that we are aware of” Sergio admits, looking between Max and Dani to see if any of them had anything else to admit, but they both kept quiet. George and Lando looked between each other, wondering why else she would be here.

“Well I’m sure Toto won’t mind me telling him his daughter was nearing around the Red Bull garage” George admits, a scowl on his face.

“Don’t tell him” Max says, his husky voice deepening, glaring back at George.

“You can’t stop me, he’s my team principle. I can tell him anything” George retorts, George had a crush on you for back in his Williams days, and the minute he moved closer to you in Mercedes it was even more prominent. Toto had learned of this and forbid him from ever actually doing anything about his feelings for you. So anything that affected you, or something that was a suspected harm to you George would for sure be all over trying to help you.

“Look, if you don’t want to hurt her… like we all know you don’t. Then you won’t stay anything alright” Max says getting all up close to George, before tapping shoulders as he walks off into the hospitality of Red Bull. Sergio and Daniel follow after him leaving the four confused at Max’s odd words.

“What the hell was that about” Lando asks, he knew Max struggled with his anger but there wasn’t exactly anything to be angry about. Lando knew Y/N they were very very close. So the fact that all of this was going on was making his head spin.

“I have no clue, but I think we should talk to her” Alex admitted.

“She isn’t going to talk to us though, not with the way she ran off today” Charles offers.

“This is a job for Lily and Alex” Alex admits knowing how close the three girls were. In their free time on race weekends they’d all go for lunch and out for shopping and often had girlie spa vacations together.

Thursday came around very quickly, and you’d made your way to the Red Bull garage in the early hours of the morning, Christian had been there waiting for you and handed you the team shirt that you would wear while you worked here. You guys had joked about potentially making a campfire so that you could burn your Mercedes gear, but Christian said that that was going a little bit too far.

Now it was halfway through the day, and all the team principles were in a meeting, one that was being held on media day by Sky Sports.

“So Christian have you managed to find anyone to be Max's race engineer for this race that is up to the standard of his last who will be out for a long period of time" Martin Bundle asks.

"We have in fact, are we allowed to have her come up on stage for introductions?" he asks pulling his mic a little closer to him.

"Oh woah, how does Max feel about having a female engineer?" a random reporter from the back shouts, making Christian frown at the question.

"Well, he is sad to see his current engineer go as they have been together for a while now, but he's very welcoming to the idea of having someone new" Christian says, currently Max's PR manager was trying to get you to go up on stage and sit in the seat next to Christian but you pulled your Red Bull cap down, trying to stay as low-key as possibly.

"Y/N come on you have to go there!" she offers trying to get you to go up on stage.

You eventually get pushed up on stage, back to the cameras and the cap completely covering your face. Your head stayed down the whole time before taking your seat.

"Show them" Christian whispers to you, you lift you head up looking at all the reporters in front of you. Camera flashes erupt throughout the room the minute they spot you.

"Is that Y/N Wolff?" One of the reporters asks in shock, making Christian look at you with a proud smile.

"I'm extremely happy and proud to confirm that Y/N Wolff will be joining us as Max Verstappen's engineer until further notice" he beams, pulling you in for a hug.

"Toto? Did you know about this?" Martin asks, looking over to the older male whose face was full of anger, disappointment and betrayal.

"No" he answers bluntly crossing his arms over his chest.

"How do you feel about this?"

"Well, I don't think its good sportsmanship at all, I should have been told about this. I have been betrayed by my own flesh and blood" he sneers looking over at you, your head tilting down.

"And Y/N what made you make this change?"

"Let's just say, Mercedes weren't giving me opportunities, that Red Bull now are" you smile, you stay by Christians side for the rest of the meeting before leaving only to find most of the drivers all waiting for you in a communal area.

"Well done we're proud of you. And i cant wait for testing tomorrow!" Max says pulling you into a hug.

"How could you do this to your dad, he's given you everything" George shouts pushing Max away from her and stepping up to her. Lando and Alex come up either side of him to make sure he doesn't actually do anything to hurt his imagine.

"I - I wasn't happy..." you started but get interrupted by him again.

"What, not happy being a golden child? Not happy being born into wealth and not having too do anything because daddy paid for everything. Not happy that your clothed in designer brands everyday, or that you travel in a private jet all around the world. Is that not enough?" he shouts at her, he kept walking closer and closer to her, backing her up until she was against a wall. All the other drivers followed, Lando even trying to pull George back by his wrist was was flicked off the second there was contact.

"George" Alex starts, not liking how close he was. But with all the commotion and all the shouting, Toto also decided to join the group of drivers surrounding you. Shouting and asking why you'd left Mercedes for Red Bull.

In the state of things your mind couldn't keep up with everything that was being thrown at you, your voice was week as you quality started to beg them to stop. Your hands came up over your ears everything getting too much. Tears were forming in your eyes, and your legs gave out as your back slid down the wall, your shaking form now on the floor.

"EVERYONE BACK UP" you hear as voice shout. Within seconds someone is helping you up, while helping you to walk to the garage.

"Hey hey hey, its okay, its okay" Christian says to you as he holds your shaking body, hugging you tightly to your chest while brushing your hair comfortingly.

"I I" you stutter not not actually be able to breath.

"He shouldn't have said that you, and the others should have done more to stop him. I'm sorry i wasn't there. Max came and got me, I told him to come back here" he explained as you sobbed more into his chest.

The thought of someone who was once your friend turning on you saying such horrible and disgusting things about you, was something you didn't think you'd ever have to experience.

"Maybe he's right though" you said in a small voice.

"No he's not and tomorrow with Max will prove that to you" he smiles, getting up and holding his hand out for her.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08

Just a reminder I am a minor free or minors do not interact blog, if you are a minor please do not interact!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x you #george russell #george russell imagine #george russell smut

[cosmic-slumber-party]

Dating Megumi Fushiguro

🐺 You met this boy at jujutsu high. He wasn’t trying to make anymore friends, but of course you somehow weaseled your way into his group.

🐺 No one would have guessed that you’re a grade below him, Yuji, and Kugisaki, as you’re always with them and on the same level.

🐺 He obviously doesn’t want to see anyone he cares about get hurt, but he feels himself getting a little more protective of you. He also notices how lovely your laugh is, how cute your smile is, and how great you look in your uniform— That’s when he knows.

🐺 He’s fallen hard for you. He knows you can hold your own, but he still worries.

🐺 He eventually confesses one day while you’re in the city with Yugi and Kugisaki. You all decided to go out to eat, shop, and just take a break from daily life. You’re all talking about where you see yourselves after school. The topic unsurprisingly gets to marriage, and what kind of people you see yourselves with. Megumi says, “If we all survive that long, I want someone who makes me happy, has my back, and I can trust with my life.” He then looks at you and says, “Someone kind of like Y/N.” That’s when you realize all the hints. You start dating that day.

🐺 He may not totally enjoy shopping, but he’ll go wherever as long as it’s with you and you’re happy.

🐺 If you’re injured, he’ll stay by your side and bring you whatever your side. He finds himself waking up in your recovery bed most nights. No one tries to make him go back to his room.

🐺 If there’s anyone he trusts to fight by his side, it’s definitely you. That’s behind Yugi and Gojo though. But hey, a win is a win.

🐺 He calls you things like “the ace up my sleeve”, “idiot”, and “my future”.

🐺 He may seem like he’s got it all figured out and he’s all good, but that’s not the case. He needs someone to have him step back and relax. You are that person for him. You make him take mental and physical breaks. And oh boy, if anyone needed one, it’s this boy.

🐺 We stan a boy with daddy issues. ❤️

#anime headcanons #anime imagines #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu fushiguro #jujutsu Megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen Megumi x reader

[parachutingkitten]

Dragons Rising Lloyd/Akita Reunion, cuz the show hasn't given it to me yet.

Lloyd and the kids are on their way to the First Realm, but run into an old familiar face along the way. Definitely a little flirty, but can still be read as platonic.

No one could quite pin down what was wrong with the trees around them. They were too straight. Too baren. Too… something. It was as if they had somehow noticed a change about this place which they had no familiarity with. Perhaps it was just the overcast day and the subtle winds which made the wood seem so ominous, or perhaps there was something more sinister going on. Either way, the feeling between the group was palpable- they were lost.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” Sora asked. “This doesn’t really seem like a trail anymore.”

“That’s because it’s a shortcut,” Lloyd assured her, holding up the map. “Or at least… I think it is.”

“I might have preferred the main path if it had less of a creepy forest vibe than this one,” Arin added, looking skeptically up at the trees.

Lloyd closed the map, confident in his direction. “Look, this will save us two whole hours, the only reason it’s typically avoided is because this forest is supposedly cursed.”

“You know, you had the option of not telling us that,” Arin groaned. 

“Trust me, the last thing you want is your teacher keeping things from you,” Lloyd mused. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Sora broke in. 

“Hear what?” Arin asked. 

Lloyd held his hand up, stopping the group. “No, I heard it too.”

The three stood in silence for a moment, listening for the sound to come again. It was hard to discern through the light winds humming through the branches, but it was there: the sound of living movement.

“You two stay close,” Lloyd instructed his students, continuing to scan the treeline. He squinted through the homogeneous rows of bark surrounding them, but still couldn’t see where the noise sourced from. Erring on the side of caution, his hand began to reach back for his sword. However, before he could even make contact with the metal, a flash of white burst towards him, knocking him to his back. The movement was accompanied by a deep growl, and a sharp scream from either side of him. 

Lloyd felt strangely overpowered by the weight which fell on his chest. It came in two pointed placements and pressed in a way which seemed to go through him, taking with it most of his breath. The noise he heard was unequivocally animal, and the vigor which restrained him matched that assessment. As he squinted upwards at his attacker he was able to make out the beast's face. A wolf- but not just any wolf.

"Akita?" He used the last of his air to address the creature.

The growling stopped as the animal retreated, allowing Lloyd to sit up, and more importantly, breath.

The wolf now circled around him, bumping into his arms with a friendly familiarity. 

"Hey, it's good to see you too," Lloyd chuckled. 

"You know this dog?" Sora asked.

"I do!" Lloyd smiled. He looked into the animal's eyes fondly. "She was, um…"

There was a bright flash of light as the form before him began to shift. As the shock from the shine subsided, he made out the image of a woman reaching down to help him up. It was a familiar face, but a changed one. Her wild raven hair was much longer now, tied back into a tight ponytail which exploded behind her, and topped with her familiar animal adornment. Her figure was clothed largely in black, and fit to her body much more closely. On her were obviously several weapons, along with a number of other useful objects attached to her person directly. But her face seemed much the same, her smile just as shyly offered, and the marks which framed it right where he remembered them. "I'm an old friend," she finished. 

Lloyd took her hand as a pair of awed marvelings came from the kids. Her strength easily tugged him upward, their eyes remaining locked as he made his ascent. 

“I didn’t think you were- I mean-” Lloyd paused for a moment to avoid stumbling over himself any further. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I can’t say I thought the same.” Akita tightened her grip on his hand before finally letting it go.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lloyd chuckled.

“It means Lloyd Garmadon seems like the type of person to turn up in unexpected places.” Akita smiled. “As you have!” She gestured to the forest around them.

“This is the girl from the Never-Realm!” Arin burst out, finally drawing their attention away from each other.

Lloyd glanced back and forth between him and Akita. “Yes, she is. How did you-?”

“Does this mean she’s the one that-”

“We don’t have to elaborate on that description,” Lloyd stopped him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. “Seems like you got it figured out.”

“I’m still lost,” Sora chimed in.

Lloyd let out a heavy sigh. “Sora, Arin, this is Akita, I met her on a mission a while back, she’s originally from the Never-Realm. Akita, this is Arin and Sora, they’re my… students.”

Akita was grinning wildly by this point. “Students, huh?” she turned her attention to the children in question. “What’s this idiot been teaching you?”

“He’s been training us to be ninja!” Arin jumped excitedly.

“He’s been training me to use my elemental power,” Sora added.

“I already taught myself the basics of spinjitzu,” Arin continued. “but it’s awesome having a teacher!”

“Self taught is the best way to learn,” Akita offered Arin a high five, which he eagerly reciprocated. “I like your ears,” Akita turned to Sora, pointing above her head. “You make them yourself?”

Sora reached up toward the accessory, pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, I… yeah.”

“What are you doing out here?” Lloyd asked, his attention still strongly attached to his rediscovered ally. 

“I live here,” She shrugged. “I’m out collecting tree bark.” She tapped a small pouch that hung at her side. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you do with the tree bark?” Arin cut in.

Akita smiled, pulling out her dagger. “You peel it off, very carefully,” She placed her blade along the nearest tree, carefully shaving off a long strip of bark. “You take it home, clean it, dry it.” She tossed the piece to Arin, who caught it easily. “And it makes an excellent tea.”

Arin’s eyes had grown wide, Sora looking at it over his shoulder, her hands reaching for her pocket knife.

Having distracted the kids, Akita again turned to her new-found companion, quieting her voice.

“What are you doing here? No one ever comes through here.”

“We’re headed to the First Realm.” Lloyd answered, matching her tone. “We’ve got a whole dragon problem going on, and we think the realm of Oni and Dragon might have some answers.”

Akita’s face ruffled in confusion. “The First Realm?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd answered, a strain of uncertainty entering his tone.

Akita stared at him a moment in thought. “You’re almost certainly headed the wrong direction.”

“Really?” Lloyd sighed, reaching for his map. 

“I told you we were lost!” Sora called over to them, now struggling with her knife against a nearby tree.

“We can’t be going the wrong direction. We’re right here,” Lloyd pointed on the map. “in the Unsleeping Woods-”

“No, right now we’re in the Forest of the Tamed.” Akita placed a finger a few inches away from Lloyd’s as his gaze froze on the spot. 

“How could we have…”

“You probably mixed up the Forbidden Path with the Forsaken Path.” Akita took the map from his hands, tracing along the two trails. “The Forsaken Path takes you much farther North.”

“That… would do it.” Lloyd sighed.

“I’m sorry, we were on something called the Forsaken Path?” Arin butt in. 

“Technically, I thought I was taking you on the Forbidden Path.” Lloyd corrected him. 

“You do know that’s not better, right?” Arin groaned. 

“Well, it’s far too late an hour for you to start that direction now.” Akita rolled up the map, handing it back to her companion. “But my camp is nearby, and I have plenty of extra space.”

Lloyd’s vision turned to his students, thinking for a moment.

“You are gonna let us hang out with the cool wolf-lady, right?” Sora asserted, bark strip in hand. 

“Wait, does that mean this forest isn’t cursed?” Arin spoke up.

“Well, it's a different forest, but it could still be cursed.” Sora prodded him. 

Lloyd turned back to Akita, his eyes narrow. “You sure we won’t be a bother to anyone?”

Akita smirked. “No one to be a bother to, except me. I’m a scout. I’m camped by myself in an abandoned fishing village. It’ll be nice to have the company,” she assured him.

Lloyd smiled, his mind still a mush at seeing the face in front of him. “You’re sure?”

Akita rolled her eyes, walking past him. “Come one everyone! Camp is just a few minutes west of here!”

…

Akita gingerly closed the door on the common building, a targeted grin on her lips. “So… Kids?”

“It’s a new development.” Lloyd shrugged, shrinking back a bit.

“No, I like it!” she quickly clarified. “The responsibility seems good for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lloyd chuckled, swinging off his backpack.

“It just means…” Akita thought for a moment. “Adulthood is a good look on you, that’s all.”

“Well, your new job looks good on you too,” Lloyd glanced up at her as he sat the pack on a bench near the door. “You seem like you make a great scout.”

“Well, I certainly did a good job of finding you,” she teased. 

“It seems like a pretty important role. I bet Kataru is really proud!” Lloyd continued.

Akita was quiet for a moment, her demeanor falling. “Yes…”

Lloyd paused, studying her face. “Or not?” He offered. 

Akita’s face hung before facing her companion. “Kataru didn’t make it through the merge.” The air in the room was suddenly filled with a thick stillness. “Most of my people didn’t.”

There was a beat of silence before Lloyd took her arm, guiding them both down to the bench. “Are you alright? I mean, I can’t imagine. Have you been by yourself all this time?”

“I’ve been fine,” Akita waved it off.

Lloyd’s face was stuck puzzled as he processed the new information. “I thought the Never-Realm had a lot of land carry over. The produce is all over the place.”

“Much of the realm did make it through.” Akita agreed. “But the majority of it is uninhabited wilderness… so that’s largely what survived.”

“Akita, I’m so sorry,” Lloyd placed a hand on her knee. “I had no idea.”

“My role as scout is the only reason I made it. If I had been home with my family, I would be gone with them.”

Lloyd felt the pain in her words, and could empathize all too easily. “You know, I lost my whole team in the merge. I thought I would never see them again. And I’ve found some of them since then, but I still remember how hard it was, thinking you’re absolutely alone like that. It can be so difficult just to find a reason to keep going.”

Akita looked back at her friend with pity. “Well, it’s nothing worth complaining about.” She pat his back as she stood, making her way further into the room.

“...what?” Lloyd turned over his shoulder to look back at her, thoroughly confused.

“Everyone lost things in the merge.” She shrugged. “We are not special. All that’s left to do is focus on what we do have.” Akita pulled out her dagger, moving to the water basin towards the back of the room to clean it. “I was lucky enough to make it through the merge, and with me came an abundance of territory I was familiar with and knew how to survive off of.” She glanced up from her work. “And now I’ve even found you. So that’s three things I have to my advantage.”

Lloyd sat on the bench, body twisted around, stunned for a moment. “I guess that’s one way of looking at things.”

“What’s the alternative?” Akita questioned. 

“I don’t know. Feel your feelings a bit?” Lloyd offered. “Didn’t losing so much ever make you feel a little… I don’t know. Lost? Scared? Hopeless?”

There was a breath of silence as Akita pinpoint her words. “Loss is unavoidably painful, and I am not immune to pain.” Akita dried her dagger, it shining in the dim lantern light. “But giving up hope is the coward’s way out. It means you’ve decided you will no longer fight.” She stood up, starting back towards Lloyd. “And I am no coward.”

Lloyd sat with the statement, his eyes still caught on the shine of the dagger as she again approached the bench. 

“You on the other hand,” she pointed the weapon at him with a smirk. “I’m not so sure.”

“Hey!” Lloyd laughed, standing to meet her height. “I’m plenty courageous!”

“Perhapps, but not that I’ve seen.” Akita shrugged, slipping the knife back into its scabbard. 

“Not true.” Lloyd shook his head.

“What was the brave part? When I had to save you from wolves, or from the giant ice bird, or when you spilled out your feelings to an animal you thought couldn’t understand you,”

“Okay, okay,” Lloyd waved her off, still chuckling.

“-when your supposed friend very easily captured you, or when you ran away after a girl kissed you?”

“To be fair, she was a very intimidating girl,” Lloyd beamed.

Akita grinned, a bit of blush sneaking onto her cheeks. “Well, I don’t think she was trying to be… at the time anyway.”

Lloyd’s face tensed for a moment, his words hesitating. “I feel like I might need to apologize-”

“No, no!” Akita quickly cut him off. “You don’t need to-”

“Well, everything just ended so abruptly,” Lloyd shrugged. “I feel like maybe we didn’t get any proper closure because I had to leave-”

Akita scrambled for words. “I knew what I was doing, and that it would leave things…” a sigh of defeat left her lips. “It was just one of those silly teenage impulses,” she chuckled. Her frame had softened a drastic amount over the past few exchanges. 

Lloyd sat with the statement for a moment, still unsure of how he felt about it. “Yeah… right,” he landed on matching her nervous chuckle, the room now palpably less fluid.

Akita leaned forward, attempting to ease the newfound tension. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s caused you much more distress than it ever has me.” A smile snuck onto her lips again. “Given your romantic history and all.”

Lloyd’s eyes playfully narrowed. “Low blow.”

“How has it been since then? Anyone else to add to the story?” Akita asked, starting towards one of the food storages. 

Lloyd laughed to himself, loosely following her movements over to the large table at the center of the room. “Yeah actually, it’s… Harumi.”

Akita looked up from her search for a snack. “Again?”

“Yep,” Lloyd nodded, leaning back on the table.

“I thought she died.” Akita returned to her search, thoroughly confused. 

“Well, she did. Or at least I think she did. But she got resurrected through like… dark magic I guess?” 

Akita pulled out an orange from the pack. “So she came back. Was she different?” she asked, beginning to peel her snack. “Like she didn’t want to kill you anymore after the building collapse or..?”

Lloyd’s mouth hung agape, trying to avoid stating the inevitable. “No she… she still wanted to kill me.”

“And you still liked her?” 

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds really bad!” Lloyd began to laugh.

“That is really bad!” Akita stressed, her too beginning to chuckle.

“Come on, I mean first crushes are always the hardest to shake, you know?”

“I do…” Akita’s smile landed quietly on her expression, her eyes darting back down to her orange as she finished peeling. “So, what happened with her?” She crossed the expanse between them to the table and leaned next to him.

“Well, she went to prison. She did a bunch of crazy stuff, so there was no way she was getting out of that.”

Akita offered him an orange wedge, which he promptly took. “Well, that will put a spike in things.”

He hummed in agreement as he finished chewing. “It’s probably for the better though. I do not think that relationship would have worked out.”

“No kidding,” Akita mused, popping another wedge into her own mouth. 

“I mean she had a lot of trauma related to me, and I had a lot of trauma related to her. And now I don’t even know where she is after the merge.”

“Did the prison make it through?”

Lloyd nodded. “It did, but there was also a massive jailbreak during the chaos, so she could be anywhere. It’s possible she didn’t even make it through.”

Akita stared down at the orange cradled in her hands. “Do you… think about her much?”

Lloyd breathed a heavy sigh. “It’s been less as time goes on. But it’s hard not to wonder about her.” His voice had quieted dramatically. “I don’t even know if she ever had feelings for me. But I think there’s part of me that will always care about her, despite everything.” He rolled his eyes. 

Akita held a glance over at him, her mind running with a thousand thoughts. “Maybe you just have a thing for women who try to kill you.”

His expression cracked again into laughter. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know, I don’t see any other reasonable explanation for your attachment to her.”

Lloyd smirked. “You know, you’re right. I can’t help it. I’m attracted to the danger.”

“No,” Akita shook her head. “I find it much more likely you enjoy feeling intimidated.”

“Is that why you attacked me out in the forest?” he teased. “So maybe your little crush would go somewhere?”

Akita smiled, her gaze returning forward. “You know, I did have a crush on you when you left.” 

“Yeah?” Lloyd prompted her.

“I did.” Akita set the orange down next to her. “And I’ve spent most days after that wondering how on earth,” Lloyd began giggling. “that could ever have happened. I mean someone so annoying, immature, weak,”

“Okay-” Lloyd interjected.

“dorky, cocky, just generally unlikable as you,” Akita continued. “I wrote it off as a complete fluke fairly quickly.”

“Well, that’s great to know.” They both smiled at each other. Akita’s eyes broke first, a weakness entering her voice.

“But, I have to say, being here with you again,” She spoke, her voice almost a whisper. “...I get it.” 

Her eyes remained firmly forward, refusing to perceive whatever reaction might come from her words. 

Lloyd was pensive, a number of emotions beginning to manifest inside him. “You know, I meet a lot of people in a lot of different places doing my job,” he began. “And I always thought it was so unfair that the one person I wanted to see again the most, was the one person I couldn’t get to.”

Akita turned to glance at him again, his eyes ready to meet hers with an admiration that instantly encircled her gaze. A strain built between the two; she could almost swear it was physicalizing in the air around them.

Akita groaned, burying her head in her hands as her nerves caught up with her. “I did it last time- I’m not going to be the one to do it again.”

Lloyd giggled dizzily at her reaction. “You know, girls have only ever kissed me first. I don’t really have experience initiating things.”

Akita tilted her face back to him. “So, you’re saying you would want to kiss me right now?” she challenged. 

Lloyd felt the blood rush further into his cheeks as he struggled for an answer. “I’m not saying that I… I mean you-” 

Akita chuckled, straightening up to face him again, waiting for a response.

Lloyd sighed, his eyes refusing to leave hers as much as he wished he might be able to. “It’s just… silly teenage impulses.”

#and then the kids burst into the room #ideally this would be a multi part fic #but I don't have any other ideas fleshed out enough #i just know i live for akita teasing lloyd #and the kids teasing lloyd #and come to think of it also the ninja teasing lloyd #lloyd garmadon #lloyd ninjago #akita ninjago #lloykita #llokita #sora ninjago #arin ninjago #writing #one shot #dragons rising #ninjago

[kaseyskat]

as soon as the episode ended i knew immediately what i wanted from next episode: and while it might not happen, i have hopes? and i think it'd be fun. anyways i have other projects i don't want to continue this so enjoy! (dndads s2ep30 spoilers)

~~

For all of his life, Normal’s been jealous of his sister. 

He never wanted to admit it. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could earn a fun nickname or… or something from his parents if he were just popular enough, or well-liked. He figured he must’ve done something crazy horrible when he was born for his parents to name him Normally, but its not like he really minded the name so much… only when it was featured in smaller print alongside Hero on family photos. 

And it’s not like Hero gloated about it or anything – in fact, sometimes she seemed just as grumpy about their unusual naming conventions as Normal himself was – but Normal remembers when Uncle Lark would take Hero out on trips around the city and his dad usually accompanied them and Normal loves his mom so much but he can’t deny that part of him had always felt so… left behind. 

Now, he knows the truth: he was right to be jealous of Hero. She was special– and she was planned to be that way. No wonder Normal couldn’t make his father proud of him, there was probably nothing he could do. Not when he was a mistake. An accident. Unwanted. 

With how much of his plans have gone awry since they started this entire mess, and with how Scary fights and Link snaps and Taylor bickers… and with all that he’s learned, Normal is tired. 

(What’s the point in having a loving family if they only love you by necessity? 

How can be be sure that, if given another chance, they’d still have him, welcome him into their lives? 

What is the point of friendship if nobody trusts him and nobody listens to him? 

And, better yet, why bother trying to do the right thing if it always, always goes wrong). 

Suggesting his place as a hangout spot had been a distraction. He wanted to take a chance to see his mom, of course, but also if his sister really is the Chosen One, his house would probably be the safest place to drop off the others in his group. His plan would, unfortunately, require him to lie; or, at the very least, to act his pants off to convince the others that he was going to stay with them, but… 

…well, what else could he do? 

He couldn’t bring the others with him to the next anchor. That, Normal’s known since Scary convinced Link that the easiest way to help people would be via breaking the anchors with hate– surely, surely, they’d question it, but nobody did. Nobody did, and now Normal can’t trust them, and… and he might not be special in the way he had always wanted to be, but he still owes it to the Doodler, to himself, to break the other anchors in peace. 

And it’s not like they notice. Normal winces when Scary casts fireball – that’s his house she’s about to burn down with her overleveled magic – but he’s already committed himself, and with a quick silent apology to Taylor and Link, he slips off into the living room, where Hermie is leaning against a wall, eyebrows quirked. 

“Oh, now you notice that I’m here,” Hermie snips, eyes narrowed in a way that has Normal want to bury himself into the ground and never get up again. “About time–” 

“-I’m really sorry, Hermie, I just… I needed the others to forget about you, so I kinda ignored you on purpose this time,” Normal admits, staring at the ground. “I had to make sure they didn’t hear you.” 

Hermie doesn’t say anything– when Normal finally glances back up at him, his lips are all pursed together, and he’s tapping his foot like the explanation is still not quite enough– which, fair. 

“You said you know how to go to the goofs realm yourself,” Normal elaborates, and he tugs at his sleeves, wondering mildly if his own heartbreak is still written all over his face. “I… I can’t trust the others anymore, but I’m really, really hoping I can still trust you. And we can go together.” 

“Wow, Normal, that’s…” Hermie pauses, and then, to Normal’s surprise, he grins. “Devious. Tricking the others like that… so that you could have me all to yourself… I can respect that.” 

At the phrase all to yourself, Normal finds himself involuntarily flushing a bright red. 

“If I help you, you can never pull something like that on me ever again though, got it?” Hermie sticks a finger directly in Normal’s face, and Normal can’t help the shuddered breath he takes– he’s sure that his panic is very, very visible, much to his own embarrassment. “You’re asking a lot of me, leaving my uncle behind like this.” 

“I’m pretty sure Taylor is your nephew, not your uncle,” Normal points out. 

Hermie only shrugs. “Same difference. You’re lucky you’re cute and I want to meet my other father. And… maybe it will help, having you there. Like you were with… Jodie.” 

Right. Because that went so well. Normal grimaces. “I promise,” he says, “I won’t forget about you again. I don’t want to.” 

“Good boy,” Hermie croons, and in one swift move, he draws from one of the pockets in his trousers, revealing his phone. “Okay, so. I’ve been getting these text messages ever since we landed in Hell.” 

Normal hears shouting from the other room. It’s getting hot– they don’t have much time. Gritting his teeth, he peers over Hermie’s hands, glancing down at the screen as Hermie navigates to his message history; a string of random numbers and various messages. 

(909-855-5152): ARE YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES IN IMMEDIATE DANGER? CONTACT US FOR FULL PROTECTION 

(909-502-2328): HOT NEW SALE ON WEAPONS! CALL US NOW!!! 

(909-764-8574): HURTING? DR. NOT ME HAS THE PERFECT CURE FOR YOUR AILMENTS! CLICK THE LINK FOR MORE INFO: 

“I can’t be sure, but… I just have a feeling I could probably contact… whoever is sending these,” Hermie says as Normal reads over his shoulder. “It’s kind of more of a hunch, but… I have strong feelings about it.” 

“I…” Normal hesitates. He wants to say that he trusts Hermie. Really, really! He does! But as he glances behind him warily again – as he remembers how Link and Scary both hadn’t trusted him, betraying him time and time again, the way he had just been shattered and hardly anyone seemed to care. 

But Hermie had cared. And he had been angry at Normal’s own negligence, and… 

“I trust you,” he finally finishes, and despite himself, he clutches at Hermie’s hands, taking comfort in the warmth; he’s always been someone grounded by touch, and especially now when he doesn’t have anyone else. “But we should hurry.” 

“Right.” Hermie glances down at where Normal’s hands cling to his own, but if he thinks anything of it, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he clicks one of the messages, and, with shaky fingers, hits the green call button. 

For a moment, the phone rings and rings and rings and the house is growing warmer and warmer and from somewhere, Link shouts… something, and if Normal concentrates hard enough he could hear Taylor too yelling, and it takes more effort than he’d like to tune it all out, but if he thinks too hard about what he’s doing he’ll stop, and he can’t stop, not now, not when– –the receiver clicks. Hermie inhales, and Normal holds his breath as they peer at the screen. 

“Oh my, who could it be? You’ve reached none other than Scam Actually!” a voice says cheerily, and Normal exhales in a giddy rush of relief. Besides him, Hermie has gone pale again; like he hadn’t actually expected this to work. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

Normal gently nudges Hermie. “Talk to him,” he whispers, and gives the most encouraging thumbs up he can muster. 

Hermie nods, and he too sighs, his hands shaking. “Scam,” he greets, “it is… Hermie. I believe you are my father.” 

“...oh, how delightful!” 

“And this number promised me… safety if I reach out. So this is me reaching out?” Hermie glances at Normal, and for the first time since Hell, Normal watches as the unfaltering confidence Hermie has all the time falters– for a moment, he just looks like Normal, the feelings of being unwanted and discarded there in his eyes, and Normal frowns. 

“I see, I see. Oh my, what a curious situation you’ve gotten yourself into… oh I must know more. Come along!” 

Next to them, a swirling portal rips through the air, shining yellow and glittering. More colors swirl inside the vortex, and it looks… creepy, but no more dangerous than the portal to Hell, and as Hermie tucks his phone back into his pocket, they both stare at the portal for a moment. 

“Ready?” Normal asks, and he slips his hand into Hermie’s own, squeezing it for good measure. 

“Yeah,” Hermie nods, and he squeezes back. 

And then – as the rest of the household remains oblivious – they step through together, hand in hand.

#kasey writes stuff #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads spoilers #normal oak #hermie the unworthy #oakworthy #BTW obligatory uhhhh #normal is not in a good headspace rn #and he's making some questionable logic leaps and judgement issues #i don't actually believe some of the things he says here! i felt the need to clarify that #i do believe that Normal believes them though. which is a different thing. so i wrote him accordingly

[starlitangels]

Immediate Aftermath

Ye Be Warned! Major Spoilers for the Cataclysm Finale ahead! I just let the Vibes carry me wherever so the POV jumps around a lot and... this is kinda long. Enjoy! 3.6k words

—

Starlight

The intercom beeped off after that mass-maker—Samuel Collins’—little announcement. Asher staggered over to us, holding a wound on his shoulder. It looked like a vampire bite. I was leaning heavily on Avior, hands balled into fists in his shirt in an attempt to stay upright.

I looked between the werewolf and the daemon. “We need to get out of here,” I said. Voice raspy with exhaustion.

“Starlight?” Avior asked.

“We need to get out. The vampires are gonna start vying for territory. I am not falling prey to any of them, but I’m too drained to defend myself right now.” I rested my head on his chest, barely able to keep it upright.

“Coordinator…” Asher said. He looked as exhausted as I was.

I met his warm amber eyes. “Get your pack out of Dahlia. Take the Keaton Pack’s former territory in Ferris if you can. Don’t trust any vampire.”

“Can you shift?” Avior asked.

Asher looked into the middle distance over my shoulder. “Maybe. I think I overused my magic,” he growled, voice even more gravelly than the last time he and I had spoke.

Avior released a breath he’d been holding—while I remembered that daemons didn’t actually need to breathe—and closed his eyes.

His Telepathy brushed against my magic. Camelopardalis. Are you there?

I didn’t catch the reply, but Cam must have said something, because I felt Avior’s thoughts again.

Regroup with me. ASAP. I need your help.

A few moments later, the familiar figure of Cam appeared in front of us—running, rather than rifting. “What can I do?” His voice was soft, but cut perfectly over the pandemonium still raging.

Avior nodded to Asher. “Get him back to his pack. Make sure he’s safe.”

Cam nodded. “Of course.” He scooped up Asher and disappeared in a blur before the shifter alpha could protest.

Avior looked down at me. “Starlight… I hate to ask this of you. But… I need…”

“Take whatever you need,” I interrupted. “I may be physically exhausted but I have plenty of emotion to share.”

“I love you,” he whispered as his grip tightened on me, keeping me up.

After a moment, his eyes closed.

All daemons. Fall back, his voice echoed in my mind. Rendezvous at the old pack den in Ferris. We have to get out of the city. Rift there or run. I’ll meet you. Vega, to me. I need your report.

Avior bent and scooped up my legs, cradling me to his chest.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Running to the rendezvous.”

“You were just a conduit for extremely powerful Sovereign magic. Aren’t you exhausted?”

Avior took off running. “Sovereign magic and daemon magic aren’t that different. My form is literally made to benefit off their power. We fed on them, remember? I’m not physical like you. You letting them in is much more exhausting for you than channeling their power was for me. I am exhausted but I have ways of powering through it that a human doesn’t.”

He slammed to a stop and kissed my forehead as he set me down. I glanced around. I’d been to Ferris a couple times. Just enough to recognize I wasn’t in Dahlia anymore.

Vega was standing in front of the large, rundown pack house. Leaned against the brick. Arms crossed. One of his horns had chipped. Not broken, but chipped.

He looked appalled to see me. You’re alive?

“Obviously,” I replied.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Avior said.

That much is clear, Vega agreed.

“Is your… lover still at the haven?” I asked.

Yes.

“Go back there. Get them out,” Avior said. “Bring them here to us where they’ll be safer. Then we can talk.”

Your heart is soft, Avior.

“Yours is softer than you let on. Now go.”

Vega just smirked—

And ducked backward through a tear in reality.

Avior sagged. “Let’s go get you a spot to rest for a bit. You’re about to fall over.” Still supporting weight my knees couldn’t bear, he helped me stumble into the former den. Our whole group of daemons were milling about inside. Avior ignored all of them and took me upstairs to a threadbare mattress. “You’re safe here, my starlight. These daemons respect you. Rest for as long as you need.”

I barely caught the last word before I passed out.

—

Avior sighed and left the bedroom before rifting—for the first time in his life of his own volition—downstairs. Almost just to prove he knew how now to himself.

Which was ridiculous. He’d had that knowledge of how shoved into his head and passed from him to every daemon in existence on either side of the Meridian. What little had been left of those two Sovereigns—Elaetum and Min’Ara—had still been more powerful than any one daemon could ever hope to be. Even Vega. To touch the minds of every daemon…

“What the hell was all that about?!” Scorpius demanded the moment Avior appeared in the main room. There was a large crack through one of his twisting horns and he had a large black eye that was already rapidly healing. “What happened back there?!”

“I don’t know!” Avior spat. “I wasn’t there! Vega shoved me through a rift and then led you all to the Spire!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Scorpius retorted. “I’m talking about the rifting. How do we suddenly just know how? That much I assume you had something to do with.”

Avior longed to go back to Aria. To get out of this physical form he’d been confined to for so long. Maybe being astral again would get rid of the headache forming behind his temples from how hard he’d been clenching his jaw.

But if the Chorus realized he was the one who’d become the Sovereigns’ conduit and trapped the rest of them in the Meridian to stabilize it… he didn’t want to imagine the punishment he’d have to take. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his daemons here—and his starlight, finally resting upstairs—should he not survive it.

Best to lay low in Elegy for now.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did. It’s a long story and I need Vega here before I have to tell it twice.”

Scorpius did not look satisfied with that answer, but seemed to accept that, for now, that was all Avior would say before Vega came back. He shoved a hand through his hair and stomped off. Avior closed his eyes. Being the leader was going to be more exhausting than channeling the Sovereigns’ power.

He looked around, taking stock of his daemons. Ones he’d kept safe in the haven for years. A head count ticked through his head. Elnath, Bellatrix, Scorpius, Cam, Crux, Vega’s on his way…

“Hold up,” his voice said loudly, cutting across all the chatter and silencing it in an instant. “Where are Delphinus and Vindemiator?!”

—

Caelum was confused. Delphinus’ arms were wrapped around his shoulders, quietly trying to encourage him to “block it out.” He hadn’t seen Delphinus in a long time—but the minute he’d ended up in Elegy, the older Empathy Daemon had been there. Holding him. Comforting him. Whispering words of encouragement. Telling him that he’d be okay—that he’d learn to block out all the hurt and pain that pulsed in the Spellsong of this plane like lifeblood.

Caelum had been terrified the day Delphinus was exiled to Elegy all that time ago. Ursa had done her best to steward him after that, but Caelum had always missed Delphinus.

“D-D-Delphi…” he whimpered. “I-I-I—I can’t block it out!” A sob shook his body.

“Yes you can. You’re gonna be okay, Caelum. I promise,” Delphinus said, voice getting a little louder but no less comforting. “C’mon. We’ll get you somewhere you can be safe, and we’ll start finding people for you to feed on.”

Caelum nodded, his little curly horn getting caught in Delphinus’ shirt. Delphinus waved a hand and a soft, fuzzy sweater—the same color as Caelum’s astral form was—appeared over Caelum, along with something comfy on his legs. Delphinus also gave him shoes and they started to make their way through the woods outside the big human city together.

After a bit, Caelum knew where they were going. “Are you following that warmth?” he asked, looking up at Delphinus with tears in his eyes.

Delphinus nodded. “Yeah. That warmth is how humans’ happiness feels to us,” he replied. “It’s what you and I feed on. We’re Empathy Daemons, here on Elegy. We feed on happiness, joy, and empathy. Compassion. It’s scarce on Elegy, but we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Caelum nodded. He didn’t feel okay—but Delphinus had never lied to him.

—

Freelancer

Vindemiator cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. I rushed over to him as he staggered. “Vin—Vin, what’s wrong?” I asked frantically.

He shook his head, whipping his hair off his forehead. “I… I just got hit with a wave of magic. I… I know how to rift, now,” he said. “And… the Meridian… I can feel it. It’s stable.” He looked off through the trees. I followed his line of sight, looking off toward Dahlia.

“They did it?” I whispered.

“They… they did something. I… I don’t know what.” He took a shuddering breath. “But I can feel it between Aria and Elegy, now. It’s strong.”

I took his face in my hands. “Maybe we’ll have more time to be happy together, now.”

His gaze was soft as it landed on mine. “God, I hope so,” he breathed. “Come on. Let’s go out to the garden. If Avior tracks us down for ditching the haven, I’d rather face his wrath outside than let him accidentally destroy the kitchen.”

I nodded. “Let’s go work on the garden, then, for a while.”

He pressed a desperate, relieved kiss to my lips. One I returned with equal fervor, holding onto him tight. We were gonna be okay—we’d have more time together.

When we pulled away, he led me by the hand outside and we started to till the hard soil, the chilly autumn air made it hard to break the ground where the water in the soil was already trying to freeze, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.

It was about an hour before Vindemiator spoke again.

He looked up from where he’d been helping me shovel up some dirt. “Someone’s coming. Daemons,” he said.

“Multiple?”

He nodded. “Two.”

“Avior and Vega?”

“I can’t tell. They’re too far away.” He pushed me behind him. “Get in the house. I’ll put some wards up.”

“Vin—”

“This isn’t a debate, my love. Get inside. If it’s not Avior and Vega—I don’t want to imagine who else it could be.”

“But they’re daemons. They’re your people.”

Vindemiator fixed me with a Look. “I was exiled, remember? If these ones weren’t, they’re probably looking for a fight.”

“Vin, please, don’t—”

“Hello?” a voice called. It sounded young. But not Avior’s, nor Vega’s in my head, the way I’d gotten used to.

“Who are you?” Vindemiator snapped back.

Two figures emerged from the trees—and Vindemiator dropped the shovel he’d been holding.

“Delphinus?” he demanded. “And—who is this?”

“This is Caelum,” Delphinus replied. I’d heard the name Delphinus from Vindemiator. Delphinus was an Empathy Daemon. Exiled for the same reason most daemons ended up on my plane. Speaking out about the treatment of the Sovereigns.

The little bundle under his arm was pink and fluffy. Fluffy curly baby pink hair, a fuzzy pink sweater. Brighter pink horns spiralling out from either side of his head. He met my eyes. There was something in his gaze. Some terrified desperation I couldn’t quite place. His little button nose and cheekbones were splattered in freckles.

I edged out from behind where Vindemiator had shoved me behind him and approached them both. “Hello,” I greeted gently, still looking at Caelum. His eyes were fixed on me. I got close and put out a hand. “Your name is Caelum?”

He nodded, eyes brimming with tears.

I gave him my name in return. “Are you scared, buddy?”

He nodded again. One of those tears brimmed over, sliding down his face.

I extended my hand closer, but turned it palm-up so I was offering him help, rather than a handshake. “You’re safe here,” I said. “We won’t hurt you.”

Vindemiator approached slowly from behind. I peeked at him to see him looking quizzically at Delphinus.

Who sighed. “He coalesced about… twenty-five years ago. Or so.”

“He’s the newest one, isn’t he?” Vindemiator asked. “The newest Empathy Daemon?”

Delphinus nodded. “I stewarded him for twenty years before I got exiled.”

I ignored them both, focusing on Caelum. “Hey, buddy, do you want a hug?” I asked.

He nodded, ripped out from under Delphinus’ arm, and slammed into me. I felt him clinging to me and shaking.

I stroked the hair on the back of his head. It was unbelievably soft. “It’s okay, Caelum. You’re safe. You don’t have to be scared of us. Vindemiator and I are friends.”

“—followed the strongest source of happiness he could feel. Not even knowing he was doing it. By the time I found him, he was in the woods and absolutely terrified out of his mind. But he was on his way to you two,” Delphinus was saying.

Vindemiator hummed thoughtfully. “He’s welcome to stay here with us,” he offered. “You both are.”

Delphinus didn’t reply immediately. “I should get back to Avior soon. I’ll come check on Caelum when I can, but Avior’s probably wondering where I am.” He paused. “You too. You’re not the only one who ditched. I just did it the second the knowledge of how to rift appeared in my head because I knew I’d have to find Caelum.”

“You’re a good steward, Del,” Vindemiator said.

I looked over at the two of them. “Vin, go with him. Explain to Avior where we went. I’ll stay here with Caelum.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. We’ll be fine. Go find out what happened.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

He and Delphinus ducked through a rift.

“Hey Caelum,” I said, playfulness touching my tone. “I bet you’ve never had hot chocolate before.”

He looked up at me. He was so small. “What’s that?”

“Come inside and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t let me go as we shuffled into the cottage. I cast a ward over the small building once we were in the door, and then took Caelum straight to the kitchen.

—

Starlight

I woke up to arguing somewhere. Blinking my eyes open—they were heavy and sticky with how deeply I’d slept—I sat up.

I was still in the Keaton Pack’s former den. The cracks in my skin from the power of the Sovereigns in my body had finally sealed back up completely. But the large one that had been splitting open my chest at my Core had left a scar. A burn mark that twinged a bit.

“—shoved me through a rift?!” Avior was shouting. “What the hell?!”

We succeeded because of it. Vega’s voice was soft, broadcasted telepathy as usual, but distant, like he didn’t really want anyone else to hear. You… and your human… stabilized the Meridian.

“They could have died holding the Sovereigns in their body! They’re human!”

You don’t give human hardiness enough credit, Vega said. They’d fight to survive harder than any daemon because of their mortality.

I heard Avior’s frustrated growl as I stretched out my limbs. I was still tired, but I wasn’t lethargic, like I’d been before.

I swung my legs off the threadbare mattress. Avior’s jacket—the one he’d intended to wear to storm the Spire, but had ended up in the Meridian with us—was draped over my upper body. I slung it on against the slight chill and slipped out of the room. Avior and Vega were arguing downstairs.

But I heard sobbing from the room next to the one I’d been in.

Avior and Vega could wait.

I knocked on the door.

“C—come in,” a familiar voice said.

I pushed the door open. “What’s wrong, Cam?” I asked gently.

Camelopardalis patted the space on the mattress next to him. I crossed and sat beside him, wrapping one arm over his shoulders. In the year I’d been the haven coordinator, I’d made friends with most of the daemons under my care. Cam was no exception. He twisted and buried his face in my chest, crying. I started to rock him, rubbing my thumbs over the spot where his horns met his scalp.

“He… he was one of my kind,” Cam sobbed.

“Who?”

“The…” His voice was thick with emotion—and the buildup of phlegm that came from crying. “The Invoker.”

“The one that the Imperium bound the vampires’ invocations to?”

He nodded into my chest. “Asher told me. His name was Brachium. He was the first daemon exiled here. Millennia ago. Long before I coalesced. I never even knew him but… but he spent so long here that he was dying. And… and he gave his life thinking he’d free the vampires… and…” Another sob wracked his body. “And I can’t help but feel like I lost a member of my family.” His voice dropped to the tiniest whisper. “I never even knew him…”

I held him tighter. “It’s okay, Cam. It’s okay to feel. Your compassion—your care—for people you don’t even know has always impressed me. Don’t lock your heart up just because it seems strange for you to mourn a man you never met. Let yourself mourn him. We’re all mourning today, too. We succeeded—but we made everything worse at the same time.”

Cam sniffed. “Is… is it true? What Avior said? That you hosted what was left of the Meridian in your body so it could speak to him?”

“Yeah.”

“You could… you could have died. You could have… dissolved from being exposed to Sovereign energy like that.”

“I didn’t have much other choice. And I don’t regret it.”

Cam’s eyes—the soft teal of a tropical ocean just after sunrise, but bloodshot from tears—met mine as he finally lifted his head from my chest. “Humans are so incredible,” he whispered.

“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re just stupid and stubborn and do whatever we think we have to in order to survive.” I shrugged.

That earned me a surprised laugh from him. I ruffled his hair as though he were my younger brother—not an interdimensional being probably three times my age or more. I smiled through the melancholy in my expression.

“—the hell were you, Vindemiator?!” Avior shouted from downstairs.

“Uh-oh,” I muttered. “I should… uh… probably…”

“I’ll come with,” Cam said.

“You don’t have to—”

“No. I… I should. I can… I can mourn Brachium later too.”

“If you’re sure.”

We got off the mattress and went downstairs.

—

Warden

Emotions were everywhere—and they were deep. I could barely think over my struggle to keep the waves of everything away from me. I’d been moments away from a feeding when the Sovereigns had disappeared from Aria. I was hungry and I was weak. I didn’t know anything about Elegy except what the stories used to say. And then, right after the Sovereigns vanished, knowledge rushed into my mind. How to rift—and to feed on human emotions—how to keep living.

So I’d fled to Elegy as soon as I could.

And now I wished I hadn’t. I was definitely not prepared for the sheer amount of emotion that would bombard me.

My instincts sought out something familiar, and I found myself running. Buildings blurred past on either side as I followed the magic.

I slid to a stop outside a large… house (I think was the human word).

A tall daemon was standing in front of it, a human—petite in comparison to him—tucked gently in his arms.

He looked up at me as I stopped running. His eyes were gold and they burned in the darkness of the night. Well, well. Hello, little inchoate one, he greeted. The human twisted to look at me, eyes widening. You must be new to this plane.

I nodded. I am, I replied. Someone is… in there. That I know.

And who might that be?

It… it feels like my steward. Like… like Avior.

The tall daemon—whose signature finally registered as a Sadism Daemon—blinked. Almost surprised.

In that case, why don’t you go on inside? You look like you could use a little guidance.

Thank you, uh…? I trailed off, a gentle inquiry for this daemon’s name.

Vega. I am Vega.

Thank you, Vega. I gave him my name in return and edged around him and the human he held—so gently despite his size and the muscles he had—and ducked inside.

All the chatter ceased the second I shut the door behind me.

Most of the faces staring at me were daemons. I felt an empowered human somewhere—their weaker signature almost a void compared to the familiarity of the daemons.

And then something smashed into me.

“Are you alright?!” Avior demanded, checking me over. “Oh, God, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Are you okay?” He turned. “Starlight! Come meet one of my old charges from when I was a steward in Aria!” he called into the crowd before going back to looking me over. “Are you hurt?”

I… I think I’m alright. Overwhelmed. There’s a lot going on.

“It’s okay. We’re here for you. We’ll help. I will help, okay?”

Yeah. Yeah alright.

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Imperium #Redacted Cataclysm #Cataclysm Spoilers #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #Redacted Camelopardalis #Redacted Asher #Redacted Vega #Redacted Vindemiator #Redacted Freelancer #Redacted Gavin #Redacted Caelum #Redacted Warden #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

[thetomorrowshow]

every hand’s a winner

trust au masterlist - previous

I COME BEARING FLUFF.

also a little note: due to personal reasons, i will be stepping away from social media for an unforeseeable amount of time. because of this, fics/updates will be posted once a month on the second tuesday either until i get back or until they run out. for january expect some esh au, and the next part of hubris in february :) additionally, my queue will be posting every other day either until i get back or until my queue runs dry (unlikely, as there are close to 300 posts in it lol).

forget all that, though!!! bc i have some people being happy for you!

cw: blood and injuries

~

Scott goes home that very evening, like most of the other emperors—bar Jimmy, who is slated to stay overnight in the infirmary. They’d tried to keep Scott as well, fussing over his bloody nose and torn skin, but he’d promised to check in with the Rivendell healers at home to make sure time in the Void of the End won’t seriously affect him.

For once in his life, Scott willingly goes to the Rivendell infirmary, leaving with a couple of bandages and instructions to write down any strange symptoms.

The thing is, nobody has ever fallen into the Void before—let alone the one in the End—so there’s no way of knowing what might happen further down the road. Scott’s an anomaly of sorts, and it looks like he’s now the subject of a medical study.

He hasn’t noticed anything apart from a slight lingering dizziness, so he writes that down, feeling somewhat stupid about it being the only symptom he has to report, especially when that could be caused by a myriad of other things. It’s not like he’s never been dizzy before. He practically didn’t stop being dizzy back before he figured out how to sleep.

That night, he luckily doesn’t have to deal with his insomnia—he’s up until the sun rises meeting with various advisory groups: working out the best way to lock down Rivendell whilst still keeping trade routes open, mobilizing the layman army, and deciding how to go forward with various declarations of support for other empires. Within the night, four different ambassadors turn up to arrange an alliance, and Scott knows that his fellow emperors are awake dealing with the same things.

He doesn’t get a moment alone until well into the next day, after he has to send out a formal announcement that his and the Codfather’s betrothal is postponed until after the war (if Jimmy still wants such a relationship, of course). He can tell that many of his advisors don’t necessarily agree with this decision, but they recognize the direness of the situation (and Ilphas, Aeor bless them, defends Scott’s choice with a fervor), and allow the postponement to occur.

It’s past four in the afternoon before he finally has a moment to relax, kicking off his boots and bathing before changing from the travel clothes that he’s been wearing for almost two days straight into something clean. The sight of Jimmy’s robes in the closet next to his almost makes him cry for some reason, but he pushes past them to the back to dig out a pair of hose and a skirt, tucking an embroidered but comfortable tunic into them.

He can’t sleep.

Several months have passed since the torture of fWhip’s basement, his wounds entirely healed, but he can’t quite convince himself he’s safe to sleep alone. He really thought he’d be over it by now.

It’s no use trying, of course—after so many long hours, he doesn’t want to risk a panic attack. Instead, Scott lies in bed and just breathes, trying not to think about all the war preparations that he’s just spent hours making.

He also tries not to think about Jimmy.

That’s a whole other issue to deal with.

For a couple of minutes, he’s able to lie there in peace, shutting down any thought as soon as it breaches his mind.

Then his bedroom door opens.

Scott sits up, ready to reprimand whatever servant is entering—he’s in his private quarters, he could be without his veil—but he’s not meant to have a veil anymore, is he—

It doesn’t matter anyways, because it isn’t a servant at the door.

It’s Jimmy.

“Hey,” Jimmy waves awkwardly, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. “How—how’re you?”

Jimmy looks terrible.

Well, he looks beautiful, as per usual, but his fall through the Void has certainly taken its toll. There are bags under his eyes, his hair greasy and limp, and he walks with an unsteadiness that tells Scott he’s been experiencing the same dizziness. Most notably, his face isn’t bandaged anymore.

It had been hard to see in the End, when Jimmy’s face was pretty fairly just a mess of blood, and impossible to see when there had been bandages plastered on half his face, but it’s clear now that Jimmy’s lost almost all of the scales on his face.

They had run in patches up from his throat to the line of his jaw on both sides, some speckling across his cheeks and a handful clustered around both his mouth and eyes. Scott had always found them gorgeous, little sparkling jewels on his face that truly brought out the flecks of green in his eyes. Now there’s maybe three around his eyes, ten total over the entirety of his face. In place of all the missing scales is torn skin and scabs, blood shining on his jaw from where the scabs have split.

Scott feels a little sick looking at it. Jimmy’s throat is still wrapped in bandages, and he can see some tied around his hands, so he can only guess at how many are missing across the entirety of his body.

He’s not sure why the dressings are gone from his face, but those wounds look ripe for infection. They shouldn’t just be out in the open.

“Jimmy, where have your bandages gone?” he asks instead of replying, swinging out of bed. “You need new ones, come here.”

Jimmy follows him into the washroom that leads off from what was once their joint sitting room, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his sleeves. “They made me take them off at the door,” he explains. “To make sure it’s me, and all. It looks pretty gross, I know.”

“No, it’s not—it’s—I don’t want them getting infected, is all it is,” Scott says absentmindedly, digging through his healing chest for the proper materials. He finds a basket of bandages and a roll of gauze, which he removes and sets to the side. His hands pauses over a regen potion, glancing uncertainly at Jimmy.

Jimmy shakes his head. “No potions, doctor’s orders,” he says. “They’re afraid it won’t . . . grow back right. It’s a wait-and-see thing at the minute.”

Scott passes over the regen and the health potions, landing instead on some disinfectant ointment. He closes the chest and gestures for Jimmy to sit on it, turns away to wash his hands before twisting open the ointment.

Jimmy doesn’t sit still as he applies it, jiggling his knee and wincing and pulling back every time Scott touches him. His injuries must really hurt, then—Scott’s being as gentle as he can, barely touching his cheeks as he rubs the ointment in.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when he cleans a particularly ugly patch and Jimmy actually cries out a bit. Jimmy shakes his head, face twisted into a lopsided grimace.

“It’s fine,” he grits out. “Thanks.”

Well, it’s not as if Scott was going to let Jimmy patch himself up. He’s not sure what he’s getting thanked for.

He finishes up quickly and efficiently, hesitating at his mouth and eyes. The bandages are too blocky to work with the curves there, so he tears one up and uses the pieces to line any awkward spots.

Jimmy really doesn’t look any better once he’s done, covered in so many bits and pieces of bandages that barely any skin is showing. He forces a smile anyhow, shows Jimmy his reflection in the mirror.

Jimmy stares at himself for a long moment. “I’d laugh if I could move my mouth that much,” he comments, and the smile on Scott’s lips becomes just a bit more real. He’s making jokes. That’s got to be good.

Then Jimmy takes one of his hands, and Scott’s heart skips a beat.

“What’s this?”

Scott follows his gaze down to his hands—Scott’s knuckles have similar bandages wrapped around them.

“Same as you,” he says, flexing his wrists. “I escaped with just losing a bit of skin, fortunately.”

Jimmy nods. “Right. Scales—on a fish, perfect protection. Bit weak when you combine it with normal skin. It—it makes sense.”

“And you were in there for longer,” Scott adds. Jimmy shrugs, looking away and down. Every which way, except for back at him.

Scott leads the way back into the sitting room, gestures for Jimmy to take a seat on the sofa (it’s his favorite spot, Scott knows, the velvet of that left cushion still brushed back weird from when he’d been sitting there last). Scott almost sits in his preferred armchair, but makes a last-minute decision to sit beside Jimmy on the sofa.

They’re quiet for a moment, and it isn’t a gentle quiet, nor a comfortable one. It’s awkward, filled with tension, and Scott’s certain they keep looking at each other but never managing to catch one another’s eyes.

He’s got to say something, but all he can think about is Jimmy’s exhausted eyes, love confessions falling from bloodstained lips, impulsive kisses and a slippery grasp on his lover’s bleeding face.

He has to say something.

But Jimmy speaks first.

“I really like you,” Jimmy says, looking away, and Scott takes the moment to gaze at him, truly take in the fatigue lining his face and the droopiness of his eyelids. “I didn’t—I have for a while. Months, really. Ever since . . . I don’t know when. I just—well, I tried, that one time—” he grimaces— “I just . . . I didn’t feel worthy, I suppose, of you. You’re—Scott, you’re so perfect, always all put-together and—and rescue-y and everything, and I’m just . . . me. Gosh, I’m sorry for rambling—I really just meant to say that I like you and—and I kinda hope you like me too.”

Scott blinks.

If his heart flipped when Jimmy took his hand earlier, it’s positively doing cartwheels now.

Jimmy likes him.

And apparently, all that pining was for waste because he could’ve confessed this whole time and Jimmy would’ve reciprocated.

Scott can’t help it: he laughs. Just a little, a giggle that slips out accidentally, but it’s enough that Jimmy freezes and glances over at him, eyes terribly fearful.

Scott waves frantically, pushing closer to him. “No, no—I—I wasn’t laughing at you,” he’s quick to correct. “I was—Jimmy, I’ve liked you for ages, but I was so afraid of you rejecting me that I didn’t dare say anything. Just think what might have happened if we both actually used a bit of logic for once in our lives.”

Jimmy blinks. A surprised laugh bursts out, one that’s quickly stifled as Jimmy winces and covers his mouth. It’s really not funny—it must hurt to laugh, with his face in such a state—but Scott can’t help it. He laughs again, lightly punches Jimmy on the shoulder.

“Don’t laugh,” he reprimands, still laughing himself. “You’ll start bleeding again, and we can’t have that.”

Jimmy clearly can’t help it, his shoulders shaking as he struggles to not even smile. Scott’s smiling too, he’s gazing at Jimmy beside him as he tries not to laugh and. . . .

He’s really in love, huh? Because Jimmy’s always shone like a star, he’s always been so breathtakingly beautiful, but he’s somehow so much more so now that he’s his. Now, Scott gazes at him, wave after wave of glory hitting him like waves of heat from the sun.

He’s in love, and it’s wonderful.

“Um,” Jimmy says after a moment, and Scott realizes that not only is he staring at Jimmy, but Jimmy is staring right back.

“Sorry—” he starts to say, looking down at his hands, but Jimmy interrupts him.

“I actually—I know you’re busy, with . . . with everything going on, and I am too, but if you wanted to just have one night before all that? I’d still like to—to go stargazing with you.”

It’s wartimes. He only has the one night to offer Jimmy, and no promises for the future.

Scott smiles. “I would be honored.”

-

There’s no snow on the ground where they pick to stargaze, a stone shelf in the side of the mountain that Scott’s lain on many times past. He spreads out three blankets on top of one another and leaves a fourth bundled to the side, in case the air gets too chill.

Jimmy splays out immediately, just like how he’s always first in bed—an incredibly intimate thing for Scott to know, and something inside him seems to almost purr at the realization. Jimmy is his, and he is Jimmy’s (at least for tonight).

Scott eases himself down next to him—his lover, Jimmy’s his lover—and, in a split-second decision, shifts a bit closer so that their hips touch.

Jimmy doesn’t move away.

Scott’s heart flips a little.

Exor’s hooves, you’re acting like a teenager, he tells himself. You like him, and he likes you. Just—be normal.

He can’t be normal. There is no way he can be normal.

The world around them has been gradually growing dark the entire time they spent hiking up to here and setting up, and now it’s dark enough that Scott can barely see Jimmy’s face.

He hadn’t been able to see Jimmy’s face then, either.

He’d seen him fall.

Scott had just caught sight of it as he regained his sense of balance from the End portal. He’d looked up to find an unfamiliar island, the world surrounded by the darkness of the void, and on the other side of the island—

Even from that distance, Scott could tell that Jimmy’s fall was the most graceful he’d ever seen.

He spread his wings and took off without a second thought, abandoning the others who followed him through the portal.

He had to try. He had to.

He’d passed fWhip, who was laughing—who tried to grab him—as he went over the edge of the island.

And then, wings pulled tight to his body, nose down, he dove after Jimmy.

“Scott?”

He blinks, looks around. Jimmy’s at his side now, head propped up on his arm. Jimmy quirks an eyebrow, still barely visible. “You good? You kind of zoned out for a second there.”

Scott blinks again, looks up. The stars are starting to twinkle into vision, bright and lively, and Scott almost waves up to them.

Perhaps Jimmy doesn’t know much about elven beliefs, doesn’t know the significance of the stars. He doesn’t know that Scott could point out a dozen or two elven legends and heroes—Gelidrian, Calireth, Alinar. And others, more mundane—his parents, the nurse who had raised him, the palace guard from a mere two decades ago.

Someday, Scott knows he will join them all. Hopefully not any day soon.

“Whoa,” Jimmy whispers. Scott glances over at him, his face illuminated by the exaltation of elves. One of his hands is raised slightly. “They're so close.”

“They really are.”

They watch in silence for a while, more and more bundles of light appearing in the sky. When the entirety of the Stags is visible and bright, Scott points it out, taking Jimmy’s hand (his heart jumps, Jimmy’s his lover) to trace his fingers down the lines of stars.

“That’s the Clash of the Stags,” Scott tells him, tracing it over again. “On the left is Aeor, see His antler?”

“That’s your god, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s Aeor.” Scott smiles just a little bit—somehow, every time Jimmy knows something about elven history, it makes him ten times more attractive. “And then below Him and to the right is Exor, His brother.”

“I’ve heard you say his name before. Is he your god, too?”

Scott can’t help but snort. “No. Exor may be Aeor’s brother, but they don’t get along. Exor was cruel, controlled those under his domain, sacrificed the weak and oppressed the followers of Aeor. Aeor, meanwhile, ruled with kindness and respect, befitting of the last remaining gods.”

“What happened to the others?” Jimmy asks. “There are others, aren’t there?”

“Yes, we believe so. I’m sure you’ve heard Pix mention the Great Slumber?”

Jimmy nods, the movement scrunching up Scott’s sleeve. Jimmy’s so close to him, close enough that Scott can feel his every twitch and breath.

“Aeor and Exor were the only gods not to fall asleep. But when Exor became corrupted, jealous of his brother’s rule, Aeor knew He had to do something about it. So He gathered all His power and wielded it in a mighty battle against Exor—the Clash of the Stags. See how Aeor is kicking Exor down?”

Jimmy nods again. The nerves in Scott’s arm are tingling at his every touch, and he has to take a moment to swallow back the squeak that threatens to break his voice. “Um. Aeor used everything He had to seal Exor and his followers within a mountain forever,” he says, thankfully with no cracks. “Then He withdrew from the people, still hearing their prayers and granting small blessings, but separate from them. He lost much of His power in that fight, and has spent many thousands of years resting and caring for us—as any god should.”

Jimmy’s silent then, and when Scott looks over at him, he’s staring up at the sky, eyes flicking from point to point. Scott doesn’t look away, and while Jimmy’s eyes trace the stars, Scott’s eyes trace Jimmy’s face.

In the dark with the stars as their only light, the raw patches around his mouth and eyes that they hadn’t been able to bandage are invisible. The lines of exhaustion are impossible to see, as are the shadows Scott knows ring his eyes.

Instead, Scott sees the way his nose twitches. He sees long eyelashes that flutter gently. He sees golden hair that’s starting to curl around the gills, long in a way Scott’s never seen it. He sees lips that move soundlessly, lips that are looking more and more kissable by the second.

“There,” Jimmy says, and Scott pulls himself out of his reverie to follow Jimmy’s finger. Scott squints up at the sky as Jimmy traces a triangle shape out of the stars.

“That can be the mountain,” Jimmy says, sounding proud of himself. “The one that Aeor trapped them in. Do you guys know where that mountain is?”

Scott giggles a little—he can’t help it, it has to be a crime to be so cute—and traces along Jimmy’s triangle as well. It’s part of another constellation, he realizes after a moment—the Crystal of Rivendell, made up of stars of rulers who have passed on. “The mountain probably wasn’t real, Jimmy. Rivendell scholars have searched for it for literal ages, and they’ve not found evidence of it yet. Besides, I find it hard to believe that a mountain could entrap a god.”

“It was a magical mountain, you said so,” Jimmy says stubbornly. “Aeor sealed it. And I think it would be a great idea—some mountains are older than the ocean, you know, surely they have some sort of power.”

“Well, when you fight a god, trap him in a mountain and let me know how it goes.”

Jimmy laughs too, then cuts off abruptly as a cold gust of wind blows over them. He shivers, shifts close enough to Scott that he’s practically curled up in Scott’s side, head resting on his shoulder.

Scott’s certain that his heart actually stops.

Which is stupid, because—because they’ve done this before! Almost every morning, Scott wakes up pressed into Jimmy, and it’s fine. Well, it’s nerve-wracking and overwhelming and suffocating, but it’s been weeks since he last blushed and apologized, and much longer since he stopped pretending that Jimmy isn’t a very physically affectionate person. Romantic intentions or not (and now, in retrospect, Scott knows that most of them likely were romantic in some way and isn’t that something), Jimmy hugs him or leans on his shoulder on a near daily basis. This isn’t anything new.

Somehow, though, it’s the strangest sensation he’s ever known.

He’s been quiet for some time, he realizes suddenly, and before he even knows what to say he’s blurting out, “What’s your favorite constellation?”

Jimmy jerks a little bit. “What?”

“I—that’s how it started, isn’t it?” Scott says, and he just knows he’s paler than the stars right now. “You asked me what my favorite constellation is. Which one’s yours?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer immediately, pulling back a bit to gaze up at the stars properly. After a few moments, he takes Scott’s hand (the hairs on his arm stand up) and guides him up, much further to the left than the Stags. There, he traces out a strange shape—almost a lopsided rectangle, but with five sides.

Below it are two stars that are very familiar to Scott, he realizes with a jolt—

Staying up late every night—he’s just a child, he ought to be in bed, but instead he creeps over to the window and looks up at the stars.

His nurse had taught him to make a wish on the point of Aeor’s antler, and if the God was willing, his wish might come true. Scott can’t really remember where it is most of time, but he can always find those two bright stars to wish on—and that way, he would get two wishes!

He wishes twice for himself, or sometimes he uses one for Xornoth, or sometimes he uses one for his parents.

Most of the time, though, he wishes twice for himself—and he wishes for a friend.

Jimmy traces it again, the soft bandages on his knuckles rubbing against Scott’s matching set. “That one. That’s my favorite.”

“What is it?”

Jimmy’s hand falls to his side, almost in slow motion. “I don’t know,” he says, and there’s something wistful in his voice, something terribly sad. “But it feels like home.”

-

It gets too cold to stargaze, so Scott packs everything up and helps Jimmy back to the palace, flying in through his window so as not to get caught out by the guards.

And sure, it may be the beginning of the end of the world, war hovering over them like the executioner’s axe, but Scott can’t stop giggling. He and Jimmy are sneaking around like teenagers, trying to not be seen as they clamber in through his window. It’s so very cliche that he can’t help but enjoy it, can’t help but be entirely wrapped in the feeling of new love.

They both collapse onto Scott’s bed, both laughing, even though Jimmy’s covering his mouth and wincing like it hurts. He doesn’t stop, though, eyes sparkling as he snickers.

“The funny thing—the funniest part is, it’s not even funny,” Scott gasps out, and it isn’t—he thinks they’re more laughing because of the absurd pressure it is to sneak into a building that you belong in in the first place. It’s more stupid than anything—it would have been just fine to go in through the gates, really, but they’d decided to do it proper just for the fun of it.

Jimmy laughs harder at that, cutting himself off with a small “ouch!”. He presses his sleeve to his mouth for a moment before pulling it away, examining it for any blood. Apparently satisfied, he lets his arm fall and stretches out a bit.

“This was really good, Scott,” Jimmy says after a minute, and dear Aeor, even the way Jimmy says his name. . . .

“Can I kiss you?”

Scott blinks, sits up. Jimmy’s watching him, a blush spreading across what’s visible of his face. He almost looks just as surprised as Scott feels that those words fell from Jimmy’s mouth.

And really, props to Jimmy, because it’s not a bad idea. It’s a very good one, in Scott’s mind.

But they really need to talk about it first, don’t they?

Scott sits up, runs a hand through his hair. “I’d like to apologize, actually. For our first kiss.”

Jimmy frowns. “Yeah, I—it was sensory overload, yeah? I don’t think you need to apologize for that.”

“Wha—when did I say it was sensory overload?”

Jimmy sits up too, scoots along until he’s sitting beside Scott. “Well, I didn’t figure it out until today, actually. I sort of thought you hated me at first, but yesterday, when . . . and then again, earlier. You said—you’ve liked me this whole time, right?”

Scott nods.

“Right. Well, I figured if you did like me back then, you probably wanted to . . . do the whole kiss thing. And it’s really not like you to just run away like that. And I know you get sensory overload real bad sometimes, so. . . .”

Scott slides his hand toward Jimmy’s, loosely tangling their fingers together. It’s a conscious movement, one that sends nerves sparking up and down the very bones of his body.

It’s dangerously close to too much.

Yet it’s everything he’s wanted for so long.

“How about this,” Jimmy continues. “We—we’re . . . courting now, right? Um—that—that’s really nice to say—so how about we always ask first, before a kiss? And stuff like that. That way, neither of us is taken by surprise.”

Thrills go up and down every inch of Scott’s skin when Jimmy says that they’re courting, his breath stolen from his chest. They’re courting. They’re in a committed relationship. Jimmy is his, and he is Jimmy’s, and it’s true because Jimmy said so. It’s real.

“That—that sounds good,” he manages. He takes stock of himself—definitely on-edge, but he can handle one kiss. As long as they make sure it’s just one. And maybe if they do some pressure cuddling afterward.

“Can I kiss you?” Scott asks, his voice almost a whisper. What’s visible of Jimmy’s face under the bandages goes through a series of emotions—anxiety, enthusiasm, warmth, and then settling back on anxiety. He nods, a little uncertainly, and turns to fully face Scott, drawing his legs up criss-cross on the bed.

They’ve kissed three times before, but everything is different about this one.

There’s an awkward sort of lean-in, of course—the first and second times had been sudden, passionate, and the third filled with the thrill of survival. For this, they move slowly, telegraphing each movement carefully—akin to trying not to spook a wild stag, Scott thinks offhandedly.

And then their lips meet.

Scott’s always led kisses in past relationships, his lips slotted above his partner’s, but Jimmy takes the lead here, leaning up a bit to match Scott’s height—and Scott thinks he likes it. His lips are warm, far warmer than Scott’s, and wet, and so very very soft.

It’s not the burning fireworks of their first kisses, but it’s warm like a cozy evening by the fireplace—there are so many nerve endings, he can feel his shoulders start to raise at the overstimulation—and it’s Jimmy and he loves him so much and it’s overwhelming, it’s perfect, it’s underwhelming compared to the first time because Scott knows that Jimmy has very sharp teeth and knows how to use them—

But Jimmy pulls away after just a moment, their lips parting slowly, and offers a small smile. “Good?”

Scott can only manage a squeaky noise in the back of his throat, and Jimmy giggles. The sound is a little bit loud for his sensitive ears.

Scott stands and pulls off his cloak, muttering something about putting on softer clothes before ducking into his walk-in closet. He can hear Jimmy laughing behind him.

Normally Scott would consider himself the smooth one—why is he so uncollected? He can’t even find the words to make any sort of dirty jokes. Jimmy must think something’s wrong.

(And so many things are wrong, of course, but definitely not this.)

He changes into soft pajamas, emerging to find Jimmy having also changed—he’s in a loose shirt and shorts, hair mussed and occasional bandages wrapped around his arms and legs. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how one looks at it—his face and hands had taken the brunt of the damage, only a couple of patches bandaged on his arms and even fewer on his legs. Jimmy smiles brightly when he sees Scott reenter.

“I sort of assumed I’d be staying the night. You looked overstimulated, do you need anything?”

Scott points to the bed. “Sleep?” he suggests, swallowing half of the word back. Jimmy nods, pulls back the covers.

“Do you want me on top of you?”

Scott can’t help it—he snorts. Jimmy goes totally red, sputtering incoherently.

“I—you know I—Scott!”

“Very forward, Jimmy, and on the first date too—”

“Oh, come off it!” Jimmy shakes his head, sighs, then adds, “We’ve been engaged for a while now; I don’t think it counts as a first date.”

Scott quirks a brow, and this is more familiar, this is how their banter is meant to be, flirtatious and comfortable and not at all awkward. “So you’re saying you’re open to it?”

“You are a menace,” Jimmy tells him, but he’s smiling, and it really does feel like before all of their issues. Except now Jimmy’s actually his, and the awkward dancing around each other in a newfound relationship hasn’t passed, but maybe they can become like this again soon enough.

Scott climbs into bed, turning down the lamp on his way in. He curls on his side, pulling the blankets up to his waist, his wings resting on the cushioned shelf built into his bed for this precise reason.

After a moment, the bed shakes as Jimmy climbs in beside him, then slowly, carefully, rests an arm around Scott’s waist.

“This okay?”

The weight of his arm is heavy and warm, the perfect amount of pressure, and Scott rolls to be fully on his stomach before pressing closer. When his head is up against Jimmy’s chest, and their knees are bumping at every readjustment, he nods.

He can be close to Jimmy. He doesn’t have to be self-conscious about wanting to touch him. He doesn’t have to restrain himself in private, pretend that the physical affection is all for show.

Scott moves one arm up, wrapped under Jimmy’s arm and up his back, and sighs. This is comfortable. This is right. This is real. Their bodies know how to fit together, weeks of practice in their sleep lending subconscious knowledge to Scott as he presses up against his lover, his Jimmy.

This is real, he tells himself, and it’s perfect.

#empires smp #esmp #empires smp fanfic #flower husbands #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #i have to upload this one now before i start my break bc i'm handing the reins over to oasis #who has no idea how to do the images stuff #i'll be back at some point! #i don't know when but at some point #i'll probably still write while i'm taking the break #i just won't be active #idk if i'll leave the inbox open or not #maybe so if oasis feels like answering asks #ig give me opinions? #i'll be here for the rest of the week in a vague sense just to clean things up #make sure everything runs properly etc #so i'll still answer asks while im here :) #anyway fluff? in my fic?? it's more likely than you think #lmk any feedback/comments abt the chapter! #love you guys

[f1inl3ey]

Y’all are gonna hate me for this

Vance isn’t the type of person to confront his feelings. He likes to run from them, pushing everyone away in the process and hurting the people around him. It’s not intentional, he swears it isn’t.

“Have you guys noticed that vance isn’t speaking to us as much as he used to?” Bruce says while shoving food down his throat. Finney looks up from his book “yeah I have actually. He’s been hanging out with us a lot less too.” The group had realised this long ago but it was almost an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. Bruce however, was starting to worry. Vance had stopped eating lunch with them, he’d lie and say he had plans whenever the group wanted to hang out, he yelled at them more often than not. Bruce needed to figure out why. He checked every place he knew vance liked to hang out at but he was no where to be found. It’s like he had disappeared into thin air. None of the boys saw him anymore.

Finney decided to skip class and search for Vance. Bruce had told him that he looked everywhere but couldn’t find him, so, finney being a good friend, decided to look for him. It took a while but he eventually found him, sitting under the bleachers, eyes closed and head rested on the pole that’s holding the bleachers up, with the Walkman he got a month ago. Finney approached the calm looking boy and as he was sitting down he tapped his shoulder. Vance’s eyes slowly opened and he looked directly at finney before turning off his music.

“What” he snaps. Finney, who’s used to this by now, stays calm. “Are you okay?” Silence. Finney and Vance didn’t talk as much as the others but they were still friends. At least that’s what finney thought. Vance finally breaks the silence. “I’m fine. Why’re you even asking?” He says, propping his leg up so he can rest his arm on it. “You’re just… different than normal.” Finney replies. It goes silent again. Vance turns his head avoiding looking in finneys direction. “Vance?” Finney knows that Vance doesn’t trust him as much as he trusts the others but he’ll at least try. Finney thinks for a moment and decides on telling Vance something embarrassing about himself to make Vance feel more safe with talking to finney. “Y’know, 3 years ago I had the biggest obsession with Elvis Presley.” Vance turns his head in finneys direction. “You? Obsessed with Elvis Presley? That’s embarrassing.” Finney chuckles at this. Silence.

“Finney?” Finney looks at Vance who’s staring at the ground in front of him. “Yeah?” He replies. “I think i might like someone” Vance whispers while fidgeting with whatever his hands can find. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is it?” Finney questions. Silence. Again. Finney starts to realise that Vance has probably never had feelings for anyone before, meaning he doesn’t know how to deal with them. “It’s not a girl.” Vance mumbles. He seems…ashamed? Finney doesn’t understand why he would be ashamed of it until he remembers why he’s bullied.

Finney accepts Vance as he is but Vance is still distancing himself for weeks after. Bruce knocks on Vance’s door and it slowly opens to reveal a very tired looking Vance. “What are you doing here?” Vance says almost scared looking. “Dude, are you okay?” Bruce asks. The door slams in his face. This happens several times. Vance answering the door to see Bruce, Bruce asking if he’s okay and Vance slamming the door on him. This goes on for a few days until Bruce works up the courage to hold the door open.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Bruce says with a mix of anger and concern. Vance picks up on this. Bruce had every right to be mad. Vance was literally ignoring him and not telling him why. “Nothings wrong. Just leave.” Soon after Vance said this, the once, sort of civil conversation turned into a screaming match. Bruce almost begging to know what was wrong and Vance completely dodging anything to do with what Bruce had asked, or maybe yelled.

After the argument, Bruce left slamming the door behind him. Vance wanted to cry. He wanted to curl into a ball and die. But as always, he pushed those emotions away. As soon as Bruce had slammed Vance’s front door he was in tears, sobbing on his way home. Once he reached his house he went inside and ran to his room. All he could do was cry. He had just got into a huge argument with his best friend. He didn’t know what to do.

By the end of the month Vance had managed to push almost everyone away. Finney wasn’t budging though. He wanted to help. Finney had picked up on the fact that Vance was interested in Bruce and knew that Bruce only had a girlfriend to try and get rid of those feelings for Vance. He knew they liked each other, but they didn’t. Finney tried to help, but failed miserably. They were never going to be friends again. Bruce just wanted to know what was wrong and Vance wanted to push all of his feeling down until he blew up over the smallest things. And that’s how their friendship ended. It ended because they were completely different, they shared nothing. They were wired differently and that’s what brought them together but also drew them apart.

#the black phone #tbp #vance hopper #bruce yamada #vance the black phone #brance #brance angst?? #vance angst?? #angst?? #sorry for this btw #tbp headcanons

[antvnger]

(( any headcanons about Cassie becoming part of the young avengers and Scott’s reactions/involvement/feelings about it? ))

((Interesting question, Anon. I'm sorry it took so long to answer because I know like 2 things about Young Avengers, so I didn't know how to initially answer. And I had to take a break or two on answering so I could think of other things to add.

Edit: I’m sorry! I definitely forgot this in my drafts. Okay okay here we go, sorry it took forever.))

I don't really remember how the Young Avengers came about in the comics, but I do remember that there was an attack on the...not Young Avengers, and I know Scott was killed in the process (*cries*)

So it's possible there were others who perished in the attack too. And the Young Avengers formed because the other Avengers were no longer a thing anymore...something like that.

And I hate that idea. So!...

Like Cassie, there were quite a few of the youngsters who have been watching their heroes/mentors do all the awesome things they do, and they want in.

So they form their own band of avenging vigilantes to handle things when the other Avengers are away.

Cassie hears about this group and seeks them out and joins after she gets her purple suit from good ol' Grandpa.

She really wants to tell her dad about it, especially since she thought she did so well in the Quantum Realm, but he's got the idea that since that was over, she should stay out of the fray until she got more training from him and Hope.

Hope figures out pretty quickly that Cassie is a part of the group, and she tells Cassie she supports her. But she needs to tell her dad the truth.

"I will...when I figure out how to."

Well, she keeps pushing that conversation to the side until it can't be pushed back anymore.

And it can't be pushed back anymore because the Young Avengers ran into an issue where they needed something big, and they had only one person to fit that bill.

And well, there happened to be a news crew nearby and well...

Scott about chokes on his cereal the next morning when the news is broadcasted everywhere.

"Young Avengers gain BIG help: Ant-Man's legacy continues as a giant woman in a purple suit reminiscent of the Ant-Man suit helps the Young Avengers save the day. It is believed Lang's daughter is the woman behind the mask, but that knowledge has yet to be confirmed."

But Scott knows.

"CASSIE!"

He's not mad she's helping the Young Avengers. Not really. He's a bit on edge and nervous by it because he's not sure she's ready. His fear masks itself as anger.

He's her dad and he'll always have a hard time letting her go. He will let her, but he'll struggle some.

But what does bother him so is that she didn't tell him about this, that she kept it from him for who knows how long.

What also bothers him is that Hope knew and didn't give him a heads up either.

"I wanted to tell you, Dad," Cassie admits, "but I know how you feel about all of this, so I didn't know how to tell you."

"So you let The Today Show fill me in instead. Cool."

"...the cameras weren't supposed to be there."

"That's beside the point, Cassie!"

"But nothing bad's happened so far, Dad. I'm okay, and I saved a lot of people last night."

"...behind my back. You didn't give me a chance to support you or anything."

“Would you have? Being so protective of me? Hadn’t I proven myself yet? I can do this, Dad. And I am doing it. I love helping people and doing what you do. It’s what I was born to do. Just like you.” She gives him a soft, pleading look. “Will you let me?”

But Scott’s trust and pride are wounded over being lied to. He never handled being lied to well at all, and this time is no exception.

He shrugs after a moment of silence. “You’ve already made your choice that you will no matter what, so it really doesn’t matter what I say right now, does it. You’re still training with me and Hope and your grades better not suffer. And…” he can’t help but still worry about her. “And you better come home. No matter what, you better come home.”

It’s awkward for a while after that. Scott’s not happy with Cassie or with Hope, and though they’re all willing to work on fixing the issues that have come up in their relationships recently, Scott’s got to work on his own feelings in order to get to that point. He has a hard time getting there sometimes.

But eventually they get past it, and Cassie had him meet the whole Young Avengers crew.

And it takes hardly any time at all before he becomes the crew’s dad. He just is. No one really questions it. It just happens, and they all like it.

Scott’s house becomes a common hangout place for the Young Avengers. They’re always coming in and out of there, and he likes it.

He cooks for them; he gives them advice; he has extra sleeping bags and pillows and stuff for if they ever sleep over. And they all have more than once.

Sometimes they ask him and Hope for help in whatever mission they’re on. They know they can count on Ant-Man and the Wasp.

They all get him Father’s Day gifts, even the Young Avengers who have fathers still.

He’s Ant-Dad in all their phones. Except for Cassie’s of course. He’s just Dad.

Cassie is not surprised that Scott adopted them all, but she’s a bit surprised they all adopted Scott. There are some in the group she never would have guessed would do that. But she loves how wrong she is and she loves how her dad’s accepted the whole team.

One day after a tough mission, they all end up at Scott’s house. He cooked for them, tended to wounds, and turned on a movie for them as they all passed out in his living room.

Except for Cassie. She seeks him out in the kitchen while he’s cleaning up, and she hugs him tightly, still shaky from the mission.

He of course hugs her back. “It’s okay, Peanut. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

“I’ve never been that scared before,” she admits quietly.

“I get it. I do. It’s okay to be scared and to still feel uneasy. But you’re safe now.”

“I’m tired, Daddy.”

“I know, Peanut. I know. You can rest now.” He kisses the top of her head. “I’m proud of you. You’re going to be okay.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly as he rests his head against hers, still hugging her. “So much.”

#for the ant mun #anon asks #scott lang #ant-man #cassie lang #peanut #stature #headcanon #young avengers #young avengers headcanon #ant man #antman

[smootbrainchicken]

Without me

Part 1

————————————————————————

I can see it even now, the road under him, cars rushing around trying to get home, the streetlight on his face, his hair falling in halos around his head, the bliss of the moment.

Don’t do it please. Just stay put. Please. Don’t trust it.

I can beg all that I want but the ending always stays the same.

Oh why did you have to be without me?

September 2, 2024

Monday morning, the first day of junior year, I genuinely never thought I would get here after the crap I went through last year. During the last week of school last year I made a choice to leave my friend group, it was a big deal at the time because believe it or not I was part of the “popular” girls so when I left my, now best friend Daniela Jenkins or Danni, went with me. Obviously the whole school was up in our space trying to figure out what the hell happened for the cool kids to lose two members, and honestly it’s not that deep, those people are shallow, only care about how they look in others eyes, pretty, sexy, sassy, funny, girly, helpless, you get the point.

Danni and I were not informed of some major switches in our group because apparently we weren’t fitting “the ideal look” of the group, so we left. I remember exactly what I said to the “leader” of the group Allison.

“Look, I'm not interested in being one of your puppets that you drag along until you need me. If you don’t like me and don’t want to be my friend that’s fine but don’t make up stupid excuses like “i don’t fit the look” honestly nobody actually likes you they’re just scared of you, and how you will make their life hell if they stopped following you around.”

It might have been a little harsh, but she needed to hear it and the rest of the group needed to know it was okay to not fall in line behind her meaninglessly. She was also dating the boy I had the fattest crush on, so I might have been a little unnecessarily mean, but that doesn’t really matter anymore because they broke up over summer and I took my chance. That makes me seem shallow. I didn't just swoop in while he was hurting and ask him out because he was finally free of that brat of a girlfriend he had, I'm not that girl. Instead i waited 3 weeks then asked if he wanted to go to a small get together, a party, with me. Theo and I have been neighbors for our whole lives, so it’s not that strange that I would talk to him outside of school hallways. He said yes to me and one thing led to another and we were hanging out all the time, at least twice a week over the summer.

Me being me I knew that i couldn’t just go up and date him, not after the stunt i pulled with Allison at school. They aren’t dating anymore but he has been accepted into the male side of that friend group so he is still… salty, I guess about her. By the end of August I thought I had made great progress with him and was finally ready to ask him out on a date, when he totally friend-zoned me. He told me that I was his best friend and he is glad we started talking again after drifting apart in 8th, 9th, and 10th grade. Great, I’ve been best friended, exactly not what I wanted, but we will make it work. For the sake of my little middle school self and her crush on Theo I can't screw this up.

I am in my little black sports car my mom bought for me last christmas for all of 30 seconds before I remember that I forgot to grab my lunch off of the counter. Everyday for the past 11 years my mom has reminded me to grab my lunch before school while she watches the cartoon reruns on the TV, not anymore because half way through summer my parents decided to be selfish and cheat on eachother. And I do mean each other, they accidentally booked the same hotel for the same night with their side pieces, they ran into each other there and when I got home the next day I was told they are getting divorced. After it was finalized rather than go to court about it they just said i would live in the house with whomever stays there, that ended up being my dad, it’s not like I’m mad about it i love my dad but mom and i had a rhythm and now she just buys me stuff like that’s parenting.

I ran into the house and got my lunch bag then ran back out to my car. Danni got into a wreck last month so her car is totaled and i've been picking her up a lot ever since, so naturally i have to pick her up from school today too. I'm about to pull out of the driveway when I see Theo waving and jogging towards me. I roll down the window to say hi but he gets over to me faster and opens up the passenger door.

“I'm so sorry to ask but would you mind taking me to school today? Mom’s car won’t start so she took mine and dad already left for work-” he’s talking super fast as if he’s scared i'll say no to him. Except he doesn’t know that I can't say no to him, not when he bats his pretty gray eyes at me, and has his pink lips parted ever so slightly cause he ran over here.

“No, of course I'll take you. Just hop in, we have to pick up Danni so i’ve got to go now though” oh no, i agreed to quickly. Maybe he won’t notice it or maybe he will just not read into it too far.

He face relaxes as soon as the words left my mouth, “You are a lifesaver seriously I owe you Lyd,”

“I'll hold you to that” I laughed at him, “but for real i need to go so in or out?”

“In. I'm in, don’t want you to be late. Lydia May Vandyke, ms. perfect, never missed a class or been late in her whole school career.” he teases.

I scoff as I pull out of the driveway and drive towards Danni’s house, “Oh you know that’s not true, I got chicken pox in 5th grade and missed a whole week of school. We went on a field trip to the aquarium and I cried because I had to miss it so you brought me back a stuffed shark to make me feel better.”

“Oh yeah that’s right and everyone at school kept asking if you were my girlfriend and if you were dying.” he laughs softly at the memory.

The rest of the ride to Danni's is mainly in silence, but not the suffocating kind; it was a soft comfortable silence, like old friends just enjoying each other's presence after being across the ocean from each other. When she gets into the car she looks at me and raises her eyebrows, a clear sign of confusion and questioning. I shake my head towards her hoping she will drop it for now so I can explain the situation to her without the main subject in the room with us. Danni is the type of person to be quiet around people she’s not super close with, so the ride to school consists of me talking to them individually rather than a group conversation until the topic of Allison is brought up.

Theo is finally at the point where we can talk about Allison and he talks about all the shit she put him through rather than how much he misses her and how he wishes she had given more signs before ending it with him, but when Danni brings up the fact that we have nowhere to sit because we are not friends with her anymore and he gets visibly tense. Danni sees it and gets an idea.

“So…? Are you going to sit with the B.I.O.T.C.H. today?” she asks in an accusatory tone.

Theo spins around in his seat to look at her as soon as the words have left her mouth, “Who is the biotch?”

Danni laughs and says, “Oh that’s Allison.”

“B.I.O.T.C.H. is an acronym, Beast of burden, Inbred, Oxygen thief, Twitter feminist, Coffee slurper, Hypocrite." I explained, inserting myself into their conversation.

“Well jeez you guys, that's a little harsh. And though it doesn’t matter, yes I was planning on sitting with my friends today,” I can’t quite tell if he’s offended over the way we talk about her or if he’s just not putting up with our bullshit.

“Don’t get snappy, I was just asking” Danni raises her hands in mock surrender.

He hangs his head is small defeat, “I know, it’s just been a long day”

I turn into the school parking lot, “It’s not even 8 o'clock hun”

He mimics me in a silly voice, “I’m aware of the time Lydia”

“Ok, ok” I laughed softly, “Keep your eyes peeled people, we need to get a good parking spot.

————————————————————————

This is part one of hopefully many, please let me know what you think it would be greatly appreciated. Bye lovelies <3

#original character #original #writers on tumblr #writing #high school #original post #any and all #feedback

[taeyongfmd]

— there’s no more water in this city (but be careful or you’ll drown).

date: early morning of april 4, 2022.

word count: 574 words.

summary: ash goes out. again. part three of three.

notes: title credit for all three parts to she’s american by the 1975.

content warnings: references to alcohol / ash not being sober anymore.

it’s a miracle he’s invited back out again at all, but ash thinks his early morning company must have put in a good word for him (though he can’t figure what he’d done to deserve that other than being high enough to laugh at some lame jokes that would have only gotten no more than an awkward smile from him otherwise).

the group has chosen a different bar this time, but they’ve paid off the place to remain empty except for them this time. in the wake of the grammys, paparazzi, fans, and groupies are swarming the streets in too high a concentration for them to trust in their own peace and quiet. though plenty of them that aren’t ash might benefit from the media coverage in their career less precipitated on maintaining an image of idealistic perfection and purity such as ash’s, he’s thankful that the risk of exposure is one less thing for him to worry about.

the evening has been — well, it could have been better. watching performances of world-class performers from up close had been one thing, but the physical and mental poking and prodding of staff had left him irritated and reminded of how much the cons of his job outweigh the pros.

he’d been invited out during a crossing of paths with one of the others in the hallway, but he notices right away that the group as a whole is more hesitant around him. it feels a lot like they don’t even want him there and he’s been pulled into it by someone who feels bad for him.

he doesn’t like being pitied and when they get to passing around shots and everybody seems to be avoiding eye contact with him, he makes a point of reaching out to take one.

“guys, i’m not going to shit on the party tonight, okay?” he raises his eyebrows and throws back the shot with an ease that doesn’t betray how he’d spent the last day coming to the conclusion it’d be fine for him to have a shot or two. nothing crazy, just enough to loosen up and join in the fun. he hasn’t had a drink in nearly a year now and he doesn’t even have his medication on him to worry about interactions landing him in a bad situation. a few drinks in the spirit of celebration isn’t going to hurt anything.

—

he’s not sure how much time has passed by the time he’s been pulled into a taxi alongside two others, but he’s laughing at nothing from his place in between them as they wave goodbye to the rest of the group. the door shuts, and ash isn’t sure if one of them had done it or someone outside, but it doesn’t matter and they’re instructing the driver to take off before he can think about it for too long.

the lights of vegas flying past the windows hold more energy than anything he’s seen in months and the way limbs are strung out over and under each other in the back seat in a sweaty mess of wasted, giggling bodies vibrates life like white gold liquid in his veins.

right, this is what this feels like. he’d nearly forgotten.

—

he wakes up some time later than he should the next morning on the couch in a room in a hotel polaris isn’t staying in, teetering on the line between regret and relief.

#* | solo. #* | development. #// finally got these done almost two months late rip

[sukunasweetheart]

A better way to enjoy chocolate.

Pretty much just reader trying to give Sukuna some chocolates on Valentines. Highschool AU, gender-neutral reader, SFW content

Sukuna looks at the pile of boxed chocolates, seemingly unphased. Everyone peers to look. “Uwah! You got so much this year!” Yuuji exclaims. “Ridiculous.” He sighs, shoving all of them into a disposable plastic bag. “It’s actually pretty amazing how you went out of your way to bring your own plastic bag for this. You were expecting this, weren’t you? Pretentious bastard,” Nobara adds. “Well, it does happen every year,” Megumi says as he casually scrolls through his phone.

Megumi's the first one to leave for class and Nobara and Yuuji follow after him. You look at the daunting bag of chocolates Sukuna holds in his hand and gulps. “Do you like chocolate, Sukuna?” You ask him carefully. “...Not particularly. I don’t like sweet things. But if I throw these out, that idiot’ll never stop yapping about it. Something about going to hell if you waste food. So annoying,” he clicks his tongue. You offer a laugh at his brutal honesty, quietly regretting your own chocolates that you had made to give him today.

The two of you were dating anyway, so it wasn’t exactly necessary, right? Sukuna discreetly gives you a side glance, but you don’t notice it.

Morning classes passed by without much happening, and it soon became lunch. You watch as a classmate approaches Sukuna at his desk and holds her own homemade chocolate out towards him. “Hey. I just wanted to give you this. No feelings involved though, so don’t worry about it,” she tells him. This was obviously said for you to hear, since there was almost nobody in this school who didn’t know of his relationship with you (Sukuna is notorious for just as many reasons as Yuuji is...maybe a little more towards the sinister side of things). This apparently didn’t stop people from trying though, unfortunately. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t feel the least bothered by this. Sukuna looks at her lazily, and just gestures towards the bulging plastic bag that lay beside his desk. The class atmosphere freezes up a little as everyone looks over. S-So cold…! They all thought in unison.

However, the girl just gives a small chuckle as if she had been expecting such a reaction and just added hers onto the pile before going back to her own group of friends. “What a cruel guy,” Nobara gives Sukuna a look of distaste. He shrugs in response and proceeds to yawn. “Now, now…” You naturally take the role of the peacemaker, simultaneously thinking about what you should do with your chocolates. You had actually made four small bags, one for each of your friends. They were wrapped in clear plastic sleeves, tied up with a ribbon on top. Except, Sukuna’s one is...

Yuuji and Megumi both stroll in through the classroom door. “Yo~! We came to visit. Let’s eat lunch here today!” He says cheerfully. The two of them take the empty seats of the students who went to the cafeteria to eat. You couldn’t give the chocolates to Sukuna in front of them. Then you’d have to give him his as well - or else it'd feel like you were excluding him. Guess I'll just give it to them later on, privately.

“And? Where’s our choco, Y/N?” Nobara cheekily grins at you. You freeze up, mind giving you a throwback to the memories of last night when you had told her of your plans in advance. Silent panic echoes in your mind. “I-It’s,” You feel Sukuna’s gaze shift onto you, “...In my bag!” You hurriedly rummage your bag and pull out the three bags, making sure to avoid eye contact. “I made one for all three of you…” You say, avoiding eye contact with him. “Eh? You made one for us too?” Yuuji asks, wide-eyed. “Yeah. I thought I’d give it a try this year.” You hand them all over. “Thanks, Y/N!” Yuuji immediately opens it and plops one into his mouth. “It’s good!” Megumi also gives you a thanks but puts it to the side for now, wanting to finish his lunch first. Nobara gives you a questioning look. “What about Sukuna?” “Eh? Ah, I... kind of figured he didn’t like sweets so,” you turn to face him. “Sorry, Sukuna. Should I have made you some as well? I wasn’t sure if couples who were already dating gave chocolates on Valentines.” It’s a painful lie, but you manage to say it. “...No. I don't really care.” He looks entirely unaffected. It kind of hurt in its own way, but you ignore it and sigh out of relief for now. It was way too embarrassing to give it to him in front of the group. But now that you've said such a lie, you don't think you’ll be able to give it to him at all anymore. There was a bit of an awkward silence momentarily, but Yuuji being Yuuji - naturally carried the group's conversation elsewhere.

A few minutes later, Sukuna stands up to go to the toilet. Whilst Yuuji and Megumi are talking about something that you admittedly zoned out on, Nobara snatches up your bag and takes a peek inside. “H-Hey!” You shout-whispered. “...I knew it. You did make them! Why are you-” She stops and notices their shape. “That’s so...cute?” She gives out an amused laugh and quietly puts it back down. You fan at your face, cheeks aching with embarrassment. “Make sure you give them to him. Trust me. I’ll beat him up if he doesn’t appreciate it,” she tells you. “I’ll try…” you say meekly. Unbeknownst to you, Yuuji grins at Megumi upon hearing this and Megumi responds with his own subtle smile. 

- The bell rings for the end of school. Sukuna stands and leaves first, telling you that he had something he needed to do after school and that you should go home first. Before you can stop him, he's already left the classroom. “Go after him,” Nobara pushes you, so you hurriedly pack your things up before running out.

More than ten minutes have passed, and you can’t find him. You want to call or text him, but you’re worried that he was in the midst of doing something important. It’s rare of him to stay back at school, after all. You sigh, and tell yourself that you’ll just give up with this year’s one.

Walking out of the school’s entrance, you see Sukuna standing nearby with his usual bored expression, hands in his pockets. He catches sight of you and immediately approaches. “I thought you had something to do at school?” You start to say. “Obviously a lie. What took you so damn long?” He scratches the back of his head in annoyance. “I was looking for you inside! Also why did you lie?” You question him. “Nevermind that. You could have just called...No, that’s not the issue right now. Give.” He suddenly stretches his palm out in front of you. “Eh? Give what?” The thought of the chocolates go right over your head.

“You...the thing that you gave to everyone else except me. I know you have mine. Don’t keep me waiting,” He says, frowning. The realisation hits you like a truck and you give him a helpless smile. “How’d you know…?” You ask, quick to reach into your bag. “How long do you think I’ve known you for? The others probably knew too,” he says nonchalantly. “But I thought you wouldn’t want them...you've gotten so much. And you don’t even like sweets.” You place the bag gently on his palm. “Idiot. We’re dating. There’s no reason to not accept them if you've made some for me.” He gives them a look and grins.  “Oh…? Now I understand why you couldn’t give it to me in front of the others.”

Only Sukuna’s chocolates were heart-shaped, when the others' had been circular ones. He’d rather die than admit it, but he thrives on getting this kind of special attention from you. You get flustered and look at your feet. “It’s true that I don’t really like sweets.” He tells you suddenly. “You don’t have to force yourself to eat them-” “But there’s a way of eating them that would make it taste a bit better,” he cuts you off. You were confused as to what he was talking about, and you watched as he opened the bag and popped one of them into his mouth before pulling you in for a kiss.

Your eyes were widened in shock as you barely had the time to register all of this - he was already slipping his tongue into your mouth. One hand on your hip, and the other on the back of your neck, you're so close to his body, getting pulled into his warmth that threatens to melt you, the taste of the chocolate starting to spreading across your taste buds as he's making out with you passionately. Before you know it, you're reciprocating the gesture and kissing him back, your hands rising up, gripping tightly onto his uniform. Chocolate has never tasted any sweeter. You can feel your own body beginning to heat up and you're gradually running out of breath. As your tongue is intertwining with his, the chocolate is getting pushed back and forth, and your desire to get even closer to him is growing, growing, growing.

The last of the chocolate had melted away from the exhilarating temperature the two of you had built up and he finally breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. You can't tell if this remaining aftertaste that lingered on your tongue was the taste of the chocolate, or the taste of him. Nonetheless, you adore it.

“Much better.” He licks his lips and smirks at you. Still in shock, you lack a response except for your flustered face and your eyes that are now reflecting a glint of lust within. Sukuna hums in satisfaction at this expression of yours and he gently drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“We should do this more often.”

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #highschool au #one shot #spicy #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #sfw #fluff

[walkerwords]

“For The Love of a Daughter” Final Part - Negan & Daughter!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

PART 1 PART 2

Summary: When Negan decides to meet you on your terms, you have hope for a resolution that doesn't involve more bloodshed. Only not everything goes according to plan...

Word Count: 6832

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Blood, References to Suicide

Song I Wrote To: “Saturn” by Sleeping at Last

Note: Final part. I never thought I would finish this but I don't like to leave things open-ended.

------

You had left the others to have a private conversation much to Sasha’s dismay.

You knew why she distrusted you and you didn’t fault her for any of it. If you had been in her situation, trust also would have been something that was thinning by the hour.

Deciding on one of the watch posts, Jesus dismissed the guard and stayed nearby to dissuade anyone from approaching the ladder. He never once asked you what your plan was but you knew that was the diplomat in him.

“How’s the expecting mother?” your father’s voice crackled along the radio channel.

“She’s fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Though, Abraham’s girlfriend is about to build her own atomic bomb to drop on your community.”

“Which one was that?” he asked and you tightened your grip on the radio.

“Are you done with the concerned bullshit?” you asked and he chuckled.

“I figured I could get away with more casual banter without you punching me in the face,” Negan said. “How is your hand by the way?” You looked down at your red and purple hand, courtesy of the right hook you have given him in the RV.

“A little bruised skin is not going to kill me,” you said. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?”

“Brewing in hatred?”

“I am looking at an entire community of people who would love to see your head on a pike.”

“Alexandria is that hardcore, huh?”

“I’m not at Alexandria,” you said, watching as the sun crested the trees. Hilltop began to glow with the promise of a new day. This time without one of their allies.

“You could be here,” Negan offered. “The Sanctuary is safe.”

“Sanctuary,” you repeated. “Where did you get that name? I never pegged you for religious type.”

“I never pegged you for someone capable of killing someone with your bare hands and yet, here we are.” Anger threatened to rise from your gut again but you pushed it down.

You had yelled enough. You were hurt, angry, and in pure disbelief of what you had witnessed in the clearing and then what he had said to you in the RV. You always knew that there would be the Before and the After when it came to the world. You were now in the After, but the Before was feeling lightyears in the past. You knew your father’s face, but other than that he felt like a stranger.

“I’ve killed people,” you began again after a few moments of silence. “I’ve killed a lot of people, but I don’t tend to let my emotions take over when I'm angry. My reaction earlier was not who I am anymore, do you understand?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re some kind of sociopath now, kid? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, Darlin’ but you don’t exactly give me Dahmer vibes.” Sighing, you ran a hand over your head.

“You killed someone very important to me,” you said. “He…he saved my life once. They all have.”

“They murdered my men in their sleep, (Y/N). Those men had girlfriends, they had families. Are you telling me I should have let it go? You think I should have just turned a blind fucking eye?”

“No,” you said and you meant it. Once you realized what had happened at the Satellite Station, you knew there would be eventual consequences. “I’m not saying that what you did was worse than what we did, but you enjoyed it.” Tears were pricking at your eyes as frustration rose inside you. “You smiled, laughed, and didn’t seem to care that a kid was watching. I haven’t known this group for long, but I’ve heard stories and from what I can tell, Rick and his people don’t tend to leave survivors.”

“There is a first time for everything, kid,” Negan said.

“They want to kill you, and I don’t…” you trailed off, trying to find the nerve to say it. The words were there, stuck in your throat.

“You don’t what?” he asked and you could hear a challenge in his voice. The same tone of voice he would use with your grandfather when he would overstep around your mother.

“I don’t disagree,” you finally said and this time, Negan was quiet.

“So there it is, huh? You want to kill me because I killed one man when your people killed twenty-four!” You didn’t flinch at the loud tone but it did gain attention from Jesus who looked up before looking away again. “Not to mention the men your little buddy with the crossbow killed with a fucking bazooka! You don’t see me dropping bombs on your little suburban paradise, now do you, (Y/N)?”

“I am not here to argue morals,” you snapped back. “I am trying to stop more bloodshed!”

“Too late, sweetheart,” Negan said. “The way I see it, you either come here or I come there and get you. Either way, I am not letting you stay with those fuckers another moment.”

“You don’t get to make demands when it comes to me. I may be your daughter but I am not some fucking child you can whistle at and I’ll come running home when the streetlights come on.”

“I’m not going to stop.”

“I know,” you said, wiping the tears that had finally fallen. “I have a counter offer.”

“This is not some kind of fucking debate, kid.”

“It’s either you listen to me or I disappear and if you want to see me again, you can get through my 'little buddy with the crossbow’.” Negan was quiet but you could practically see his reaction. Whenever he was mad, he got quiet and that’s when you knew he wasn’t just mad but he was going to make sure you damn well knew what he was thinking.

“What’s the offer?”

“It’s something we need to discuss face to face. Not at Alexandria or Hilltop or your damn Sanctuary. You and me, alone, on neutral ground. Only then will I tell you my terms and how we can fix this without going to war or more people dying.”

“And how do I know you’re not just trying to get me out in the open so one of those pissed-off girlfriends can take a shot at me?”

“Because they trust me and if I ask them to stand down for one meeting, they will. Rick knows that if our groups fight only more people will die. While he’s not opposed to killing, they’ve lost enough.”

“What does the little weasel of Hilltop think?”

“I don’t give two shits what happens to Gregory, but if you agree to see me, you cannot move in on Hilltop or anyone community you currently have under your boot.” He was silent again, but you had given him enough to think about.

The problem was, you didn’t have a counter offer. You had no idea how to fix this issue without giving yourself over to your father. Even if that was acceptable to Negan, you knew Daryl and Rick would never allow it. There would be a war regardless. Finally, Negan’s voice came back over the radio.

“Where?”

--------

“You’re walking into a trap,” Rosita said as you pulled your jacket on.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” you explained. It took a few days to figure everything out, but eventually, you settled on a place to meet your father. It was going to be in an old strip mall about halfway between the Sanctuary and Alexandria. While Rosita was sure that you were walking into a trap, the truth was, you were the one setting the snare.

Everyone wanted revenge for Abraham, but you were able to get them to calm down long enough for you to propose something else. You knew that Negan wasn’t going to stop even after his warning in the clearing. He wanted you with him and while you weren’t thrilled by the idea of being in his clutches, if your idea didn’t work, that would be something you would have to come to terms with.

“If I can negotiate some sort of deal where the Saviors leave Alexandria alone, then it will be worth it,” you explained.

“He said he wasn’t going to do anything unless we messed with them again,” Gabriel said.

“And you believe him?” Daryl asked, shaking his head.

“Look,” you continued, “even if he won’t take my offer, then he at least has to tell me to my face he’s going to try to kill more of my people. That alone may make him hesitate.”

“And if he grabs you and tries to haul your ass back to the Sanctuary?” Daryl countered.

“He won’t do anything that would put me in danger. That includes having his men attack me.”

“You haven’t been around him for years, kid,” Daryl continued. “He don’t exactly seem like father of the year right now and I don’t trust him.”

“Then trust me,” you said as you slid a gun into a holster under your jacket. “Because if you don’t, more people are going to die.” Daryl stared at you before turning away and huffing.

“We do trust you,” Rick said.

“Good, then do as I say and stay here. Negan gave me his word he’d be alone and that is the one thing I trust is that he doesn’t lie, at least not to me.”

“Keep the radio on,” Rosita said with a sigh. Taking it you hooked it onto your belt before swinging your leg over Daryl’s motorcycle. You had never learned to drive a car but Daryl had insisted on teaching you how to handle a bike.

“If you don’t hear from me by nightfall, something has gone wrong. I’ll call in when I get there. Do not do anything stupid,” you warned. Rick gave your shoulder a squeeze before you kick-started the bike and Aaron opened the gate. He gave you a nod as you passed and you knew all of this was bothering him the most. He had known you the longest and he had seen what Negan was capable of the night in the clearing.

Ignoring the lump in your throat, you drove from Alexandria and hoped Negan had indeed kept his word.

--------

You had made it to the mall before your father did.

The front of the bike was covered in Walker blood as you ran through a group on the way into the city. You plucked some brains off your shoulder in disgust before leaning against the storefront once again. Considering the tall fences and razor wire, you figured the mall had once been either a shelter or a small community before its inhabitants had moved on. Luckily, they had locked up before evacuating.

A lone Walker stumbled around the corner and immediately set its sights on you through the bars of the fence. You watched it, the creature growling and stumbling over debris in the parking lot. When they weren’t actively trying to kill you, you began to feel bad for them. This one especially looked as if it had been stuck out in the hot sun longer than others. Its skin was like paper and one arm was almost completely skeletal from where the flesh had been torn off.

You watched it for another moment before it turned away from you, its attention being drawn somewhere else. It was only a second later when its head exploded from a wire-wrapped baseball bat. Negan stepped into view as he flicked the brains from the bat.

“I think a knife would have worked just fine,” you said, your heart speeding up. Negan paused and then a smile spread across his face before he turned to look at you through the bars.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said as he sat into one of his hips, a pure image of ease. “Always so punctual, huh kid?” he asked as he approached the gate. You beat him there, drawing your gun.

“Are you alone?” you asked, searching for the slimy face of Simon or the vacant sneer of Dwight. Jesus had spent time updating everyone on Negan’s right hands and you weren’t taking any chances.

“I told you I’d come alone, didn’t I?” he said and after scanning the area behind him, you finally unlatched the gate and let him in. “Thank you.” You rolled your eyes as he passed and closed up behind you again.

You both were silent and it was awkward. You didn’t quite know how to start. He was looking at you as if he had won a war that had started. However, there was also something else you recognized as love, something you hadn’t seen in some time. It was then that you remember that he wasn’t just your father, he was someone who protected you, someone who apparently still wanted to do that.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. “What is this counteroffer that you wish to bestow upon me, kiddo?”

“Come on,” you said and nodded towards the interior of the mall.

“Still don’t trust I don’t have men somewhere, huh?”

“I see you’re still capable of using your brain,” you shot back and he sighed.

“Always so snippy,” Negan said. “You get that from your mother, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t talk about her,” you said. “You don’t get to talk about her, you don’t get to talk about her to me or anyone else. She would be fucking ashamed of you.”

“Don’t do that,” he said as he grabbed you by the arm and spun you around to face him. His height made you look up at him, something you always hated. “She may have been your mother, but she was my wife. I loved her, too. I did everything I could to keep her safe. You are not the only one who lost her, (Y/N).”

“No, but I’m the only one who was there by her side. I was the one who had to reassure her that you were always going to come back. Me! Not you!” You shoved away from him.

“Is this why you fucking brought me out here? To tell me how much of a shit father I am? ‘Cause I know that already!” he bellowed. “Here I am trying to make up for the time we spent apart and you’re being…”

“I’m being what?” you challenged.

“Difficult,” he finished.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you were going to say.”

“Kid, I swear to god…”

“What? What are you going to do?” you said. “I hate to break it to you, Dad, but I am not a child anymore. You cannot drag my ass home because I broke curfew. You talk about the new world order but did you ever stop to think that everything you have done since she died was wrong?”

“I killed one man!” he yelled. “One!”

“I don’t care about that!” you screamed and it was then you finally admitted the truth to yourself. Yes, you were hurt that Abraham was dead, but this was about more than one dead man. “I care that you became…this. I’ve killed people and yes, sometimes, I have even fucking liked it. My problem is that you fucking left and became some goddamn tyrant instead of trying to find me. I came here today to get my own answers! I’m not actually here to barter some fucking peace treaty! That’s just what I said so I could come alone because I know I cannot change your stubborn ass mind. This isn’t about Alexandria versus the Saviors, this is about me, Dad. I need answers!”

You were out of breath by the time you finished and Negan wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on the ground and his shoulders were up as if he was preparing for an attack. You braced yourself for the yelling, but then those same shoulders dropped and he finally looked at you and there were tears in his eyes. He went to say something before he shut his mouth again and shook his head.

“Now, you’re quiet?” you scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“You…” he said before running a hand over his face. Worn out, you turned and walked away from him again. “(Y/N),” he called as he followed you but you just kept shaking your head.

“This was a mistake,” you said as you took a sharp right and pushed through a set of doors, and froze. “Shit.”

“What?” he asked when he reached you, and that’s when the noise finally reached both of your ears. “Shit,” he echoed.

“I guess they didn’t actually leave,” you said as you beheld a mass of Walkers milling around what might have been some sort of arcade or food establishment based on the decor. They were alerted to the two of you immediately. Spinning around, you were met with more Walkers who had come out of hiding, most likely from the yelling. Negan swung Lucille as you kicked out at Walker approaching you. Backing up, you knew you needed an escape plan but the old building had other ideas.

As the small horde pushed in, you stepped back onto the rotting floor and it gave out. Negan grabbed you just as it collapsed and you both went down, Walkers and debris following you down into the dark.

-------

There was a lot of noise all at once and it was disorienting.

Someone was talking to you but it sounded muffled. “Daryl?” you asked, blinking away the dust but he didn’t answer instead deeper and more familiar voice reached your ears.

“Not this time, kiddo,” they said as you were hauled to your feet. Blinking again, you focused on his face.

“Dad?” you asked, trying to control the fogginess.

“We gotta move,” he said and it began to come back to you.

“Shit,” you said, regaining movement in your legs and remembering where you were. Blood was splashed on your face and your father's as he swung his bat to clear a path. Your hands were shaking too much to pull your gun so you kept close to your father as he pushed his way through the Dead that were shambling behind and in front of you.

Most of it was a blur from when you landed on the lower level to when Negan was pulling you into a room near the back of the sublevel, slamming the door behind the both of you. “We need a back way out of here,” he said as you braced your hands on an old desk, trying to regain full awareness.

“Is this a basement?” you asked.

“Yeah, but not a total dead end, I can see light through there,” Negan said pointing through a hole in a somewhat boarded-up window that lead to another sublevel office.

“Okay,” you said, finally standing up straight and pulling your gun. You clicked the safety off and rolled out your shoulders.

“Not sure how much that is going to help against all of those damn Biters,” he said, listening to the Dead press themselves against the door he was barricaded with furniture.

“It’s better than nothing,” you said as your hand continued to shake. You began taking inventory of your body, making sure nothing was actually broken and working off pure adrenaline.

“We just got lucky,” he said as he paced a bit before pressing on the walls, hoping to find anything to get out of the room unscathed. You watched him as your mind raced through possible outcomes as well. “What are you thinking about, kid?” he asked and you didn’t miss the concern in his tone which only made you more irritated.

“I’m thinking about putting a bullet in your head before Sasha does,” you bit out as your thumb ran along the barrel of your gun. “Or worse, Carl.”

“You would kill me?” he asked, his feet finally stopping making s dent in the rotting carpet.

“To me, you’ve been dead for years. Now, there would just be a body to bury,” you said.

“You don’t mean that,” he said and you didn’t but you didn't have the strength to tell him at that moment. You were still angry. You also didn't have the time as your radio sputtered to life and a familiar drawl reached your ears. Pulling the walkie, you waited for Daryl to speak again.

“You there?”

“Remember that time you told me you fell down a hill and impaled yourself on your own bolt?” you asked as you rubbed your back where you had landed on what you thought was a broken table.

“What did he do?” Daryl asked and Negan scoffed.

“Unbelievable,” Negan said. “As if I would fucking hurt you.”

“Nothing, Daryl,” you said. “The floor must have had water damage or something. We fell through in the arcade and now we got maybe one way out.”

“Shit.”

“Not exactly my cup of tea, either,” you said.

“Are you hurt?”

“Bruised and a few scrapes, but nothing I’m not used to. I’ve had worse,” you said and Negan looked at you as if he could see scars or wounds from the past. You ignored him.

“I know,” Daryl said. “Alright, screw it. We’re coming to get you.”

“Daryl,” you warned.

“Nah, fuck this. I don’t care about a peace treaty. Nothin’s gets solved if ya become Walker food.”

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

“No,” he said and you could hear muffled voices in the background. One of them sounded like Carl.

“Fine,” you said. “Look for the old gaming building with all the Dead and the smell of possible patricide.”

“Hey!” Negan said.

“On my way.”

You stowed the radio back in your jacket before clutching it closer to you. You couldn’t tell if you were shaking from adrenaline or the cold, but it was starting to get to you. Negan noticed as well as the next thing you knew he was shrugging out of his jacket and offering it to you. You hesitated, not wanting to touch anything of his.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, kid,” he said. With a sigh, you snatched the jacket and pulled it across your shoulders, careful not to breathe in any of its scents. Not that it would matter, you figured all you would smell would be blood and rot. “You and Daryl seem close,” Negan continued and you looked up at him.

“He’s a good man, a good friend,” you said.

“Is that all?” he asked and you grimaced.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you asked, repulsed and Negan then realized what you thought he was inferring.

“God, no,” he backtracked. “I didn’t mean…fuck. No, I meant he seemed closer than a friend like family or a…father.”

“I told you they were my family,” you said.

“Right,” he said, placing his bat down and wiping the blood on his jeans.

“Daryl has lost enough people, I don’t plan to make him lose me, too,” you said.

“And you think that’s going to happen if you come with me?”

“I don’t think you’re going to kill me, if that is what you’re thinking,” you said.

“I wasn’t, but nice to know you don’t think I am capable of killing my only daughter.”

“You seem to be capable of a lot of things these days,” you muttered, moving to peer into the adjacent office that seemed to be boarded shut. The small hole only managed to give you some advantage.

“Are we going to talk about what you said up top? About you wanting answers?” he asked and you took a breath, ready to answer him when suddenly a hand, an arm, then a torse came bursting from the small hole in the glass and grabbed hold of your arm, its teeth aiming for your sleeve. In shock, you dropped your gun and tried to pull your arm away as the teeth snagged the leather.

Negan rushed at you, Lucille forgotten, as he ripped the Walker off of you, pressing it back with both of his hands. He shouted as you fell over from loss of contact. A second later, Negan had slammed the Walker’s head into the side of a shard of glass, killing the creature instantly.

“Fuck,” you panted. “How the fuck did we not hear that?”

“Throat was slit,” Negan said from behind you, his voice shaky from exertion. “Are you hurt?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Jacket stopped the teeth,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“That makes one of us,” Negan said quietly and you froze.

Gone was the confident tone of his voice. Gone was the anger and the stubbornness. Those five words sounded more like your father than anything else. Slowly, you turned to face him but all you saw was his back, his white t-shirt damp with sweat.

“Negan?” you asked, but he didn’t answer. “Dad?” you tried again and that was when he turned to you and something broke inside you. His right shoulder was slicked with blood and in the low light, you could see two half-moon shapes embedded in his skin. Your blood ran cold and the world tilted at the sight of the bite.

“I guess I spoke too soon about being lucky,” he said with an attempt at a laugh. “Rotten luck.” You were moving before you knew it, reaching for him. His hand found the collar of the jacket. “Always knew this thing was going to come in handy.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your hands fluttering over the bite, unsure what to do. “I-I need to find something. Do you have a knife, we have to move fast. We can…yes…we can…”

“Stop,” Negan said, grabbing your face with his left hand. “Stop.”

“No, the infection is spreading, we have to get it out.”

“It’s too high up and you know it. Cutting this off is not an option,” he said but you were shaking your head.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Negan tightened his grip on you as you kept your eyes on the bleeding bite. “This is how it happens, kiddo.”

“You’re giving up,” you said, still trying to comprehend.

“There’s nothing to do, sweetheart,” he said and that was when you looked up at him and saw his eyes. His sad eyes. “I always said I was going to go when I was damn good and ready. Next to my kid seems like the way to do it if any.”

“But—,” you said but he shook his head.

“Talk about karma, huh?” he said, leaning back against the wall. “Now nobody has to kill anyone. This is your mother’s doing, I just know it. From the grave that woman still has to have the last word,” he said, but the joke didn’t land. Negan slid down the wall as reality began to seep in. “I did all of it to survive, you know?” he said as you followed him to the floor.

“Don’t talk,” you said, your voice thick.

“No, you wanted answers. Good as time as any to give them,” he said. “I had to survive somehow. I felt like I owed it to you and I did. I had to keep going because that’s what you would have wanted.”

“I would have wanted you alive,” you said.

“You just said you wanted to put a bullet in my brain,” he said with a smirk.

“Kids say they want to kill their parents all the time,” you choked out. “It’s a rebellious thing.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said with a sigh. “You’re here though. You’re alive and you can keep living. For you and for your mother. God knows I didn’t exactly do anything to keep her memory alive. You were right to be pissed about the damn bat.”

“She would have hated it,” you said.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, wondering if you should be adding pressure to it or not.

“Nah, just a pinch. Just like when we’d get those flu shots when you were little.”

“Those hurt,” you said.

“But you still got it done,” he said, reaching up to place a hand against your cheek. “Always brave, my girl.” You watched as he winced a couple of times and you began to count backward. Some people took a whole day to turn, others only hours depending on the kind of bite.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I should have gone to the Sanctuary,” you said.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “This is not your fault.”

“I caused this drama.”

“It’s in your DNA,” he said, attempting another joke. “You had to stick to your guns, kiddo. I admire that.”

“Dad, please,” you said.

“Nothing to do, Darlin’,” he said. “Hell, if there’s anyone out there immune, it’s definitely not me.” Negan was quiet for a moment before he began to laugh and you were worried hysteria was one of the symptoms. “Full circle though, huh?” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“The first time you killed a Walker, you were saving me. The last time I killed one, I was saving you. Ain’t we a pair?” he said. A tear rolled down your cheek.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to yell at him, maybe punch him again, get an explanation, and then move on. Maybe even offer to actually go with him if he left your family alone. Hell, even give Daryl time to think of a better plan, but not this.

Never this.

“The Sanctuary is going to need help,” he said, bringing you back into focus.

“Simon?” you asked but Negan was shaking his head.

“No, not Simon. He’s a fucking timebomb. He’s…fuck he’s unhinged. You have to promise to get rid of him or have Daryl do it. He can’t…he can’t be there without me to keep him in check.”

“He’s the one who killed the boy at Hilltop,” you blurted out. Negan sighed.

“I figured,” Negan said.

“I told them you would never kill a kid,” you whispered and his hand found yours. The growls of the dead seemed to get louder behind the door. Negan squeezed your hand tighter.

“You have to promise me not to let him get worse.”

“Okay, okay,” you said through another trickle of tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand that was still joined with yours. Another thought occurred to you then. “They’ll think I killed you,” you whispered.

“No, they won’t,” he said firmly before lifting his right. “Give me the radio.” You handed it to him and he turned the dial a couple of times before lifting it to his mouth. “Frankie,” he said. After a moment, a woman’s voice came over the channel.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shit, girl, you sound concerned,” he said with a rasp and a smile.

“I get concerned when you sound like a normal person rather than a complete dick,” Frankie said. Negan was quiet then, his eyes flickering to yours. He had never mentioned a Frankie but Jesus had mentioned that your father had taken multiple wives. Or at least that was the rumor. Right now it was the last thing you were thinking about. You squeezed his hand again. “Negan?” Your father lifted the radio again.

“Time’s up, I’m afraid,” he said softly into the mic. “Son of a bitch world finally said fuck you right back at me.”

“Negan…” Frankie said, her voice low and quiet.

“It’s alright, Red. I got my girl with me,” he said as he looked at you. You weren’t hiding the tears this time. “She’s gonna take care of it. All of it. Her people…they’re good people.” You bowed your head over his hand, resting your chin on his knuckles.

“I can…” Frankie said, trying to come up with something to say, but Negan was shaking his head again.

“I should have listened to you earlier,” he said. “My fiery voice of reason.”

“I’m getting Dwight to you,” she said and Negan laughed.

“You do that, Red,” he said. “Just know that this wasn’t…this wasn’t anyone's fault.” Before she could respond, Negan changed the channel and dropped the radio before looking back at you. “No tears need to be shed for me, Darlin’,” he said.

“I’m not much of a crier these days,” you admitted.

“But?”

“But regardless of what happened…I found you. I just found you again and you go and do this.”

“Do what?”

“Damn heroics,” you whispered.

“Look at me,” he ordered and you did. “That is what fathers do for their kids. You may think I died years ago and that I’m not your dad anymore but you never stopped being my kid. Do you understand me, (Y/N)?” You nodded as a sob escaped your throat.

“I should call Daryl or Rick,” you said, reaching for the radio but his hand stopped your wrist.

“Not yet. Just be here with me for a bit, okay?” You nodded and then sat next to him, leaning against his other shoulder.

Everything you had thought about since you saw him in that clearing, laughing and postering suddenly felt years in the past rather than days.

All you could see now was his face when he picked you up from kindergarten or when you beat your mother at Monopoly for the fourth time in a row. You could hear his voice as he sang horrible versions of rock songs in the car to and from your mom’s chemo treatments. A memory of you trying on his glasses which were too big for your face was at the forefront of your trip down memory lane.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered. “I never did.” You immediately felt him relax next to you and when you looked up at him, his eyes were closed and tears were streaming down his cheeks. “Dad?” His eyes met yours and he smiled softly.

“That’s all I needed to hear, babygirl,” he said and then wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as the Dead continued to fight their way to you. Sitting in that office as your father stroked your hair, the promise of Death on the horizon, you started to not care if they did manage to break through and end you as well.

------

When asked later, you couldn’t remember how much time had passed when you heard the unmistakable sound of rapid-fire gunfire.

Your father was still next to you, sweat on his brow as the fever began to set in, but he was still alive. “Lucille,” he said and you looked at him as his eyes were on the bat. Sitting up, you grabbed the bat off the desk and handed it to him, but he pushed it back into your hands as more gunfire echoed through the air.”

“I can’t,” you said.

“You can,” he said, his voice scratchy as it became harder to swallow. “She protected me, she’ll protect you.” Seeing as he wasn’t taking no for an answer, you gripped the bat before letting it fall to your side on the ground. Voices that sounded familiar were getting closer and you knew it was only a matter of time before your people or his got to you.

“Time’s up, baby girl, you gotta go,” he said and you choked as he reached up to take hold of your face again.

“I can make you more comfortable or something,” you offered.

“It's okay, I know how I’m going out,” he said as he rubbed his thumb under your eye. Crying again, you leaned over him and pressed your forehead against his just as he did when you were sick as a child. He claimed it was to better feel your temperature. “I should have looked harder for you.”

You sobbed again.

“I should have stuck around to wait,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, kid.” Leaning back, you took a moment to remember his face as best as you could as Daryl’s deep voice reached you, calling your name.

“I love you,” you whispered and he smiled.

“I love you, too, kiddo. Always have.” You collapsed against him, listening to his heartbeat that would no longer echo in his chest soon. His arms encircled you, holding you as tight as he could. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry. You’re going to be okay. I know this because you never needed me, you always knew what to do, how to survive.”

“I always needed you,” you said and he rested his head on the top of your head. “Tell mom I miss her,” you managed to choke out and that was when he let out a quick sob as well.

“I will, Darlin’, I will.”

It was then that the door burst open and Daryl, Michonne, Rick, Carl, and a few Saviors you didn’t know finally managed to get into the room. They all froze at the sight before them. You, draped in your father’s jacket as you lay on his chest, your face streaked with tears as Negan tried to stay awake. Negan looked up and found Daryl. “Take her,” he said directly to the archer as he began to push you off of him. “Take her.”

Daryl moved forward as you tried to hold onto your father but Daryl managed to pry you off of him and that was when everyone saw the bite. Breaking out of Daryl's hold, you cried as you grabbed the bat and leaned over Negan, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

You wanted to say more but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, you pushed up your sleeve and placed your wrist in front of his face, showing him the Saturn charm you still had. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

Daryl was then keeping you on your feet as he pulled you from the room as your father asked for Laura and a blonde woman approached him. Daryl kept your back turned as he pushed you from the room, through the basement, and up the ladder that they had found. Carl and Michonne were behind you.

Exiting the arcade, more Saviors were out there, including Simon. Rosita, Jesus, and Aaron were there, too. Simon was staring at you and Lucille that was hanging from your hand. It was quiet for a few minutes as nobody moved before Simon finally lost it.

“What the fuck happened?” Simon demanded and Carl moved to your other side. Before he could ask again, Rick, Laura, and the other Saviors emerged. Simon looked to Laura and out of the corner of your eye, you saw her shake her head. Simon was fuming and he pointed a finger at you, his face reddening. “What did he say to you!” he demanded.

Looking around at the graveyard of corpses that had been shot down, nothing felt real. Blood was dripping from the weapon in your hand and tears were stinging your skin. Your family and your father’s soldiers were all staring at you and nothing at that moment felt as if it was going to be okay.

“I’m talking to you!” Simon yelled again and you heard Rick tell him to back off as Laura explained that Negan had been bitten. Simon was ranting and the others were looking confused as if they had no direction now.

They didn’t.

They were all Negan and he was gone.

Negan was gone.

Your father was gone.

You slowly looked up at Simon then and walked up to him, sliding your hand inside your coat and withdrawing your gun. He looked over at you as if you were nothing.

“Did you know that a year on Saturn is more than twenty-nine Earth years?” you asked, your voice void of emotion. Simon fully faced you then.

“What—” The bullet left your gun as fast as possible, entering his skull and exiting out the back. The shot echoed for miles as you lowered the pistol. Simon’s body dropped to the group, blood and gore seeping out from the back of his head. Guns were pointed at you but Laura was barking our orders.

“That was on Negan’s orders,” Laura explained.

You watched as Simon’s lifeless eyes stared up at the darkening sky. Daryl was next to you then, taking the gun from your shaking hand. He tried to take your hand but you shook your head, not wanting to be touched or comforted. Turning away from him, you approached a redhead that could only be one person. Handing Frankie the radio, you said, “Take care of the Sanctuary,” before turning and walking away.

You kept walking, not even bothering with the bike. When a final gunshot reached your ears, you hefted Lucille onto your shoulder and you turned your face to the sun as it set beyond the trees finally knowing the answer to what you’d always wondered.

You really were your father’s daughter and you would survive.

A/N: Sorry if this wasn't what you expected but this whole story was to look at what he would do for his daughter. Even if it meant an unhappy ending. This story is officially complete.

#the walking dead #twd #twd imagine series #twd imagines #negan #negan and daughter #walker words #walkerwords #negan imagine #negan & daughter!reader #apolloloki97 #reader insert

[puckyess]

#29 or #61 with bords. the more angsty the better i’m ready to be hurt

i cannot do anymore hurt today than this, anon.

29. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

61. “Is this what you call an apology?”

Words: 1.8k

-

You and thomas had always had the best relationship. You weren't just saying that either, everyone around you joked about how gross perfect it all was. You never fought and always trusted each other, which is why you didn’t even hesitate to sign the lease when Ethan, Mark and Mackie approached you with the thought. They practically begged you to move in with them the following year, even concocting some charade of a plan to rotate chores that you’re sure they’d forget about when the time came. It made sense- it was close to campus, close to the rink, so much cheaper than your previous place, and you’d get to live with your best friends- that’s how they’d pitched it to you anyway. The only catch was that they needed a fourth person and luke and duker hadn’t wanted to split up so it was yours for the taking. You had teased them about being their “second option” to which Mark backpedaled like his life depended on it. “This is why i said i should do the talking” ethan had said with an eye roll. Anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t going to agree. Your lease was up, your roommate was moving in with her boyfriend and your own boyfriend had renewed his with his current housemates. It all added up to a perfect situation, or it did until thomas caught wind of it.

He was now on day three of not speaking to you or your future housemates. “Stop Sign, can you ask y/n to pass me the sauce?,” brendan grinned cheekily at you and you flipped him off. He was always going through someone else to stir the pot. He knew well and good what the situation was, that your invite to dinner hadn’t even come from thomas tonight and that the sauce was closer to thomas so you’d have to either reach over him or ask him to hand it to you in order to give it to Mark. Thoroughly enjoying your annoyance he adds, “I’m waiting. Maybe you could ask bords to hand it to me?”

“or maybe you could ask him yourself,” you snap but ask your boyfriend nonetheless. He completes the task wordlessly.

Another hour passes by and the silence from him is deafening. He doesnt even crack a smile when brendan pulls out his phone to record the onion fire volcano like he usually does. You’re surprised he even stays for the meal.

He follows the group to the ben and jerry’s around the corner but doesnt order anything and you wonder why he came in the first place. He stands off to the side looking almost too impassive, while the other guys compare their orders. It was like he was consciously working to not look too far in either direction on the emotion scale and you wished he just wouldnt. Just let it out, that much silence can’t be healthy for anyone. But that’s not how he is. It’s now or never you think, he cant get too mad in an ice cream shop can he?

You approach him slowly like you would an animal you're trying to not scare away. “Hey, can we talk?” you ask him with a gentle hand on his bicep. You hate that he flinches away from your touch just the slightest, making you remove your hand immediately. He also seems to catch the hurt flash across your face because he says his first two words to you in three days. “Yeah, sure”.

You take a second to form your apology/defense case in a way that wouldn't just make him more mad but also wouldn’t sell your side of it short. “Look, i know you’re upset about this but you really have no reason to be-” you had more to say but he cuts you off with a scoff.

“Is that what you call an apology? Because it sucks.”

You hadn’t even gotten to your first point yet and you were already losing control- of yourself and the situation.

“No that is not my apology because im not apologizing, thomas. I’m trying to figure out what you’re so mad about. I can live with them, they‘re your friends and i’m your girlfriend, you should be happy that we all get along so well.”

He sighs and tugs at his hair, a clear sign that he’s frustrated and trying to keep his lid on. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, y/n. And the fact that you see nothing wrong with living in a house full of guys who arent your boyfriend really says something. And you didnt even think to ask me?”

“I shouldn’t have to ask for your permission when it comes to my living situation, thomas,” you snap. You knew he knew how you felt about your independence. He was on another planet if he thought you were going to apologize for not asking for his permission on this.

“You’re right, you shouldnt have to ask me for my permission because you know i always support you in everything you choose, i am always fine with whatever you do, but you didn’t even think to ask my opinion. you didn’t even mention you were thinking of living with them in passing, you just did it and then didn’t tell me about any of it. i had to hear it from ethan and look like a complete idiot that i didn’t even know where my girlfriend was living the next year. That’s why im mad.”

You shrank back, every single one of his words hitting you like a hammer on the top of your head, making you smaller and smaller. The cracks in his voice matched the ones forming in your heart as you finally heard the emotion coming out. The set of his jaw and the constant twitch of muscle straining with each word he forced out had you wanting to curl into a ball.

He was right. He never questioned anything you did. he was okay with you wearing low cut or cropped tops and dancing with his teammates at bars, he loved when guys watched you when you were out. He wasn’t insecure and you had taken advantage of that. You asked for his opinion on trivial things like your outfits, which he’d always answer, “whatever you feel most confident in, babygirl”, and what to have for lunch while he was away, listening to you rattle off your options and making a suggestion that you almost always turned down. why hadn’t you asked him about this? Why hadn’t you told him about it?

If it were any other topic you could genuinely say that you had forgotten because you tended to forget everything, but this hadn’t left your mind in days. You knew why. you didn’t want to have the conversation. Yes, everything lined up perfectly and worked out for all involved, but the deeper reason was that you wanted a plan for next year, for the next couple of years and you didn’t know if thomas would be a part of it. in fact, it was pretty much guaranteed that he wasn't going to be. The longer you could put off that conversation, the longer it didn’t have to exist, right?

It’s enough to have your head sinking into your hands, hiding from what you were about to admit. He sighs, even mad he doesn’t like seeing you upset. “C’mere. ‘M sorry.” he mumbles, tucking you into his chest. The actions just making you feel worse.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, t. I made this mess. I just don’t want you to leave.”

Your response takes him by surprise and the hand that was rubbing circles on your back halts. “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head, knowing you’re crazy for bringing it up when it’s so far ahead. “But you are. Next year, after the season, whenever. I just wanted some concrete plans and the guys gave those to me. I know i’ll have them next year when you’re not here and yeah, i probably should’ve asked and told you but saying it out loud and having this discussion makes it so real, t.”

You can feel his heart hammer where your hand is resting on his chest. It takes him a second to piece together all that you said and gather his thoughts. the hurt in your voice just a fraction of what he was sure you were feeling. It had been weighing on him too, the thought that this would likely be the last year he was in the same place as you. It was the reason he hadn’t suggested you get a place together, he didn’t think he could handle getting used to living with you just to have it all change in the blink of an eye. He hadn’t realized you had been thinking the same thing.

“i-,” he starts but there’s no easy way to say any of it. “I won’t be here and i’m sorry for that. I wish i could be, mon cheri, i wish i could be. But we’ll figure all that out when it gets closer.” he tells you, pressing his lips to your forehead and stroking his hands through your hair. “We don’t have to talk about it now if you dont want to, but i wish you would’ve told me how you were feeling. You know you can talk to me always, right?” he asks, his knuckles brushing your cheek.

Your eyes flutter shut at the contact you had been missing for days. “I do, but i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him. “Anything that’s a big deal to you, is a big deal to me too. We’re partners in this and i mean, living situations and the future and all that is a big deal. It’s been weighing on me too,” he admits.

“You have?”

“Of course i have, you think i didn’t want to live with you? But it’s like you said, i don’t know when i’ll be leaving and i didn’t want to leave you by yourself. I guess i just never thought of you moving in with Eddy, Mackie, and Mark.” he says the first part like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he’d want to share his space with you and it warms your heart that he wanted that too. The second part though he says with a grimace that finally makes you laugh. You insist that everything will be fine.

“I still don’t like it, but at least i know you’ll be somewhat taken care of next year living with those three. Either that or you’ll be busy taking care of them instead,” he chuckles, offering a small smile.

You grin, knowing he probably wasn’t wrong, “yeah, do you think it’s too late to back out?”

#thomas bordeleau #umich hockey #my writing

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

[aquagustd]

knuckles 2 - JJK

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: the one where Jungkook thinks you're pretty, and he can't hold it in anymore, but you think he's prettier.

genre: crack, fluff

word count: 1.75K

warnings/tags: strong language, kissing.

a/n: here is part 2, more shy!JK and pesky Taehyung. this is unedited.

part 1

∞

You’ve seen Jeon Jungkook on campus, a few times with Jimin and Taehyung and most of the time with a girl, a different girl on his arm each time you saw him, sometimes even more than one. He and his small group of friends are always the life of the party, at least that's what you’ve gathered from the few college parties you’ve been dragged to by Seokjin.

Jimin was in a few of your classes and you helped him throughout the duration of his second year with his elective courses required to obtain enough credits to get his degree. That’s how you met Taehyung, through late night study sessions that turned into sleepovers when it was too late for you to head back to your small apartment on the other side of campus.

Which was how you’ve had, what you recall as, the best days of your life. Taehyung and Jimin can be quite entertaining on their own, but combine that and you're feeling a little lightheaded from all the helium sipping.

The few times you’ve stayed over though, Jungkook had been out somewhere, probably shitfaced at a frat party, staying over at Yoongi’s or at some random girl’s dorm.

But now, you find yourself sitting on the same couch where you’ve passed out a thousand times before, squashed between Taehyung and Jimin but this time, a stiff Jungkook occupies the armchair to your left near the window.

“No horrors please, I feel like my soul is about to leave my body whenever there's a jump scare.”

“But you're so cute when you're scared.”

“No.”

You pout at Taehyung, but he just looks at you in a pleading way and you relent. “Fine.”

“Hey how about we watch the new Conjuring? ‘The Devil Made Me Do It’?” Jimin sniggers from your right.

Taehyung yells and twists his body so he can snatch the remote from Jimin, “Yah! I said no horrors!”

Jimin points at the screen with his hand, “I'm just kidding and it's not even on Netflix! Can I have the remote back now?”

“No I don’t trust you,” Taehyung says back with a pout in his voice, “I'm gonna choose something we'll all enjoy.”

After fifteen minutes of browsing the options and almost the entire bowl of popcorn being devoured by you and Jimin alone, you all decide on Birdbox, with a little suggestion from Jungkook and because Tae ‘feels like watching a post apocalyptic thriller’, and you try to warn him that it’s a horror thriller, but he says how bad of a horror can it be when two little kids and their mom are trying to get by.

Some time during the movie, Taehyung slips to the floor and wraps himself in his blanket, saying he's okay, but you know him better than that.

“You're awfully quiet Jungkook, normally you would try and figure out where exactly we've seen each actor before and disrupt the entire movie,” Jimin grins with a mouthful of popcorn.

Jungkook looks like he's been broken from a daydream when he looks at you and Jimin and finds that your eyes are on him.

“Hey why don’t you come sit here,” you pat Taehyung's previous spot, “you look like you're straining your neck to look at the TV.”

“Um no,” his voice cracks and Jimin sniggers from your side, he clears his throat and tries again, “no I'm fine, I've seen this movie before.”

Taehyung seems to have awoken from the dead when he butts into the conversation, “you sure? Because we didn’t watch it with you and Yoongi doesn’t watch Netflix, so maybe you were Netflix and chillin’”, he teased and Jungkook's eyes seem to go double it's size, "and that means you’ve only seen like what, “five minutes? No, two minutes of the movie?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “still Jungkook, you're looking at the TV from that angle and it isn’t good for your eyes, c’mere.” You lift the blanket, and ignore Jimin's protests and watch Jungkook make his way over to you on shaky limbs.

You throw the blanket over his lap and he snuggles into the armrest of the couch. He's wider than Taehyung and you're practically sitting on Jimin with how cramped up it is now.

Jungkook mumbles a thank you and you stop yourself from pushing the strand of hair that’s in his eyes.

And you can't help but notice how firm and strong his body feels against yours when you shift a bit more towards him. He smells so fresh and masculine, that you find yourself thinking back to the picture Taehyung had sent you. How can you not, when it was such a pretty dick too. And the firm grip he had, you chance a glance at his hand where it grips the blanket now and you find yourself rubbing your thighs together under the blanket.

Jimin and Taehyung fall asleep eventually and you find yourself being wide awake, despite how tired you felt earlier. You turn to look at Jungkook, and find him looking down at you.

“Hi,” you manage to say, feeling shy under his gaze.

“Hi noona,” that makes you laugh and he stares at you quizzically.

“Didn’t know you had a noona kink, Jungkook,” his cheeks turn pink and he sucks his lips in, confused while you continue to laugh at him.

“What…What do you mean?” He has the most quiet and innocent tone and you refuse to believe this is the guy with a chest like steel and an arm full of tattoos.

“I'm pretty sure I'm not your noona,” you tell him seriously.

“Oh,” is all he says for a while, then, “I assumed because of Jimin and Tae-“ “yeah I'm kind of an overachiever,” you cut him off.

Oh is all he says again and this time when you look at him, you reach up and push that strand of hair away from his eyes and scoot closer to him, for warmth of course.

When your hand rests near his on the blanket, he stares at it for a while, contemplating.

Then he speaks in a hushed tone, catching you off guard, “you’re so pretty Y/N.”

You blink up at him, and answer, “as are you Jungkook.”

“No but like you're really pretty, you're beautiful.” This is the most he has ever spoken to you and you want to take advantage of the situation.

“Is that why you look like a deer caught in headlights every time you see me?” You ask with a cheeky grin and he mirrors your expression.

He places his hand over yours and you can feel the warmth from his palm radiating through your own.

“Well that’s one of the reasons,” and his eyes flicker down to your lips.

He doesn’t know where this sudden spike of confidence in him came from when he can't even say hi to you when he sees you, probably from the close proximity or the private environment or the fact that his asshole friends are unconscious, but he's enjoying every bit of it.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips too and you seem to be getting closer and closer, and you notice a little mole under his bottom lip and you think you wanna kiss that first. But just as you can feel his breath tickle your lips, a loud yawn breaks your moment and you curse internally.

“Is it even over?” Taehyung asks from his nest of blankets.

You glance at the screen and see the credits rolling, it must have been for the past five minutes.

“Yeah”, you say with a yawn and pick up your phone to check the time, “its late. I should head home.”

“Stay,” Taehyung pleads with puppy dog eyes and Jimin seems to have woken up from you rustling the blankets when he chimes in, “yeah, stay Y/N."

“Can't, have a 6AM shift tomorrow”, and you don’t miss the disappointed look that sits on all three of the boys' features.

After gathering your bag and keys, Jungkook says he’ll walk you out and Jimin and Taehyung have the same what did I miss expression on.

Jungkook closes the apartment door and you trail behind him on the stairs.

A few steps down the stairs and you're stopping in your tracks, you don’t want to leave and you don’t know why.

But when Jungkook turns to see if you're still following him, he sees you're two steps above him and you aren’t moving, you know exactly why.

“Y/N?”

You take his hand and pull on it so he's standing in front of you, his face is directly in front of your boobs and if he leans forward he can plant a kiss on your collarbone.

When he looks up to ask what you're doing, he knows exactly what it is when he sees the look in your eyes.

You place a hand on his jaw and tilt his head up while you lean down to capture his lips with yours.

He is stunned for a moment but melts into the kiss and pulls you closer to him by your waist. All that consumes your mind is the soft way his lips are moving over yours and how his hands are slowly massaging your back in gentle up and down strokes.

The kiss turns hungry quickly and you run your tongue along his upper lip while he sucks your lower lip into his mouth. You flick your tongue against the roof of his mouth and he groans, gripping on your legs and pushing you against the wall of the stairwell.

He wraps your legs around his waist and you can feel his bulge pressing against your core, right where you need him. You moan and move down to kiss his chin making your way slowly down his jaw and neck but a door opening down the hall causes him to pull away from you.

You stare at each other for a while, and then start giggling like fools.

You plant a kiss on his cheek, “Bye, Jungkook.”

“Bye Y/N.”

And he watches you skip down the stairs until you're out of his line of sight.

When Jungkook makes his way inside the apartment, he can't stop grinning like a lovesick idiot, but its pitch black inside and he furrows his brows.

“Jimin-ssi?!” “Taehyung?”

No answer.

Then all of a sudden the lamp in the lounge switches on and Taehyung and Jimin are sitting on the couch arms folded with serious looks on their faces.

“So, spill.”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. His friends can be so dramatic sometimes.

-

a/n: let me know what you guys think! im always trying to improve my writing so let me know!

link to my masterlist here

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #ficscafe #jungkook drabble #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr