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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

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Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.”

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?”

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

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somewhereincairparavel · 24 days

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Alright. I came across someone saying that Rick "put Jason in a pedestal" and "overhyped" him by emphasizing how good looking he is and that Jason shouldn't have been so attractive looking. (Tbf tho that person made it sound like they seemed more mad bc their least favourite character was considered good looking lol) but I'll yap about the significance here anyways. Beware of a very long yapping session below.

I do understand their frustration though, because jason getting told that he looks good all the time makes it seem very shallow and unfair to the others.

And let me tell you, Jason is SUPPOSED to be gorgeous looking in everyone's eyes. He is supposed to be conventionally handsome, Rick didn't intend for his looks to be "beauty is in the eyes of the beholder " or something like Percy's (like how Piper didn't find him as impressive) Percy's is supposed to be more authentic. Percy's character isnt centred in people idolizing him, everyone can acknowledge that he's handsome looking, but it isn't in a "perfect" type of way, he's a carefree spirit and that reflects on his looks. While Jason is hardwired as this ethereal looking hero in people's eyes that not even ONE can deny that he looks good, bc ppl in Rome had set him as the "standard". Jason said this before in the lost hero, that him being a son of Jupiter, makes him feel like the support he gets is only because his dad is a very regal and intimidating figure.

That's kind of the whole point, he's supposed to look like this perfect man who can do no wrong. His "Golden noble boy" arc is literally the whole concept of his character. Why else do you think rick wrote Aphrodite approving of Jason's looks saying that he needed no improvement (which she rarely does) ?

Because Jason is supposed to be put like a statue to admire and idolize, that's ALSO why rick made sure to add that Jason looks like a Roman sculpture, bc that's like a metaphor for his inner conflicts. The guy was put like an artifact for people to ogle at in camp Jupiter ever since he was a kid of 4. That's part of the tragedy.

Annabeth said it perfectly “Annabeth tried to hide it, but she still didn’t completely trust the guy. He acted too perfect - always following the rules, always doing the honorable thing. He even looked too perfect. In the back of her mind, she had a nagging thought. What if this is a trick and he betrayed us?” Mark of Athena, page 6.

His mother, whom he's supposed to look like, is also a literal world wide tv actress. So you can't expect anything less either.

Also, Jason is supposed to mirror Percy. And let's be real. Rick put Percy in a VERY high pedestal looks wise, aswell, Not just Jason. And that's okay.

Rick made Hazel mistake Percy for a literal god because he was just that good looking (tbf, in a way, when I was younger, I found this to be a little bit of an exaggeration, bro was covered in mud and seaweed and was compared to a god, it was rlly funny to a 10 year old me 😭 yeah but don't mind this though, this was just a younger me jealous that I couldn't be as pretty as Percy was in mud lol) If Percy can be "hyped" up so "unrealistically" in that particular situation then so can Jason. They are both literal half gods, so unrealistic praise is very normal) and rick also made sure to emphasize that almost all the teen characters had a crush on Percy. So apparently that isn't called putting a character in a pedestal but Jason's is? They are BOTH put in pedestals, because they're both heroes.

Jason and Percy are supposed to be equals, so both of them being in the top two when it comes to looks makes SENSE. Because people are supposed to argue about who is better looking, since they're written as foils.

You cannot expect rick to make Percy look like a god and Jason look like a rat 😭 then there's no point of having them as parallels if one has the upper hand in something. Rick did a good job by conveying that they are BOTH attractive, but in different ways. That's why the Percy/Jason looks debate always have mixed answers.

Jason getting complimented by Aphrodite, the GODDESS of beauty, for his looks and her saying that he didn't have anything to "fix" in his face BC it already looks gorgeous = Percy getting compared to a gorgeous Roman god by hazel. They are both equal comparisons in slightly different tones.

#why do y'all beef at Jason for being hot like bro it's not that serious. Let him be as hot as he wants pls #why do you want him to look “ordinary” so bad like it would strip off the significance #😭 put your personal bias against jason away from this discussion.#Percy doesn't need to be the only attractive looking guy in pjo #pjo series #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo hoo #jason grace #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez #piper mclean #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #hoo

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gay-dorito-dust · 22 days

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Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his gn s/o asking him randomly if they can hug him in private?

Sunday: adheres to your every want and need without complaint.

He’d easily have a room cleared for you within seconds and make it known that no one should dare disrupt his ‘meeting’ with you, unless it was absolutely necessary.

And even then he’s the one making the final decision on whether or not the issue at hand was really worth his time and resources; which for most of the time they weren’t.

Sunday would more than likely make private hugs a thing in the future. He knew how busy he was and how little time that gives him with you that he felt as though somethings had to change as a result; Also it acted as the perfect guise for him to keep an close eye on you as you held onto him tightly.

He’s selfish and greedy with you and your affection and will take it whenever he felt necessary. Sunday was a hoarder in his own right but mainly with you and who he was forced to share you with because if Sunday had it his way, you’d never leave the room nor his arms unless he said so.

Boothill:

Smirking bastard this one.

Despite the fact that -apart from his face- he couldn’t actually feel anything, he wasn’t one to ignore you wanting to hug him because of it.

He, much like Gallagher, is the kind who’d thoughtfully enjoy just spending the day having you in his arms as having you close was his remedy for almost everything.

However he would be the type to tickle your sensitive spots for the fun of it, and getting to hear your squeals of excitement followed by the sound of your laughter as it makes him happy seeing you happy from something he did.

Does he hate that he can’t feel you against him? Yes.

Will he try to squeeze you closer in a desperate attempt to feel you, even if it that if was faint? Also yes. He just hoped that he could one day trick himself into thinking that he could feel you, but he spent too long coming to terms with that fact that he had lost that ability long ago.

But he keeps this all as far away from you as possible and decided to focus on the warmth your smile brings him instead to compensate.

Welt:

Is more than willing in giving you a hug.

He might think that something was wrong and that you needed some privacy so that you could confess to him your worries in confidence.

So upon arriving somewhere void of anyone and anything, Welt would ask if there was something that you wanted to get off your chest, only for you to tell him that you just wanted to hug him without having so many eyes on you when doing so.

Welt, being the most understand man ever, completely understands where your coming from and would let you hug him for as long as your heart wished. For he simply wanted you to feel as though he was there for you, regardless of how silly or stupid you might think your issues were, he wanted you to know that someone cared and that someone was him.

You’d probably end up sleeping him his arms as he was just so comfortable to be pressed up against and warm. Welt would find himself staring at you for far longer than he probably should, smiling dopily, before helping you to his room or yours where he would soon fall asleep also.

Dan heng;

Isn’t that great with PDA but is more expressive of his emotions behind closed doors. So the moment you asked for him to give you a hug in private, Dan Heng was more than willing to oblige.

After all he’s more prone to giving you affection and sweet words when you were away from everyone else. Not to say that he doesn’t shows that he cares for you in front of other people, but it would probably be a small group of people you both know, whom Dan Heng would feel comfortable with showing that side of himself towards.

Other than that rare expedition, most -if not- all affection was reserved for when you two were alone together.

His inner dragon noodle thrives off of your affection and warmth to the point where Dan Heng becomes flustered and embarrassed by it. You on the other hand thought it was extremely cute that he softly purrs when you burrow yourself into his arms.

‘You’re purring.’ You’d muse, kissing under his jaw.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Dan Heng says, face extremely flustered as the sound of his purrs continued.

He may not be all that vocal but he didn’t need to when his body told you everything you needed to know in the moment. He loved spending quieter moments with you and holding you close as it gave him his much needed reassurance that you very much appreciated him still. That he still had a purpose in your life to fulfil.

Gallagher:

Will agree within a heartbeat because any time with you is time well spent in his opinion.

He may or may not use you as an excuse to have the day off, just so he could hold you for the rest of the day, to the point it might as well become a cuddle session.

Give him any opportunity to cuddle and be lazy with you? Count. Him. In.

Also he’d probably would bite you at random points but you were made more then aware of this habit of his. So you’ve had enough time to make your peace with that fact, unfortunately you were also left with the unenviable position of having to explain why you were covered in bite marks, but that’s neither here nor there.

Gallagher would more than gladly spend the rest of his day with you in his arms no matter what and you weren’t one to argue with him as he was practically a walking furnace, and he made for an comfortable pillow on top of that too. Not to mention that he -in general- smelt amazing, which may or may not have been a primary cause for you to somehow manage to fall asleep in his arms a hundred percent of the time.

Blade:

Blade only accepts to hug you in utter privacy because PDA isn’t his thing. So at first he might not seem at all interested in giving you a hug, but the moment you mentioned that you’d want the hug in private, Blade grunted as he grabbed your arm and dragged you elsewhere from prying eyes.

‘This should work.’ He’d then say to himself before looking back at you and raising an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’ You ask.

‘Aren’t you going to hug me?’ He relies.

‘Well you never really agreed to be hugged, you just grunted and dragged me here so…’ you trailed off as you were then brought against his chest as his arms kept your in place.

The hug itself was stiff, rigid and was a little awkward but all you have to do was practice a little patience and soon you’d feel him slowly start to relax under your touch. He’s not the type whom people feel as though they could come to him for affection or comforting, affirming words because that’s just not Blade, and he will agree to this also for it not being his forte.

For you however, Blade will try to compensate for those shortcomings by any means necessary. He doesn’t try for others nor put in the effort because why would he when it would ultimately amount to nothing?

but you? His partner? He genuinely tries but is secretly happy when you show compassion as to he just can’t.

935 notes · View notes

adrinktostopyourthirst · 10 months

Text

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Finally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Spy!Reader

Plot: Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff and angst.

Words: 9,1OO

A/N: Recently I’ve been trying to understand what it is people want to read of my works and I have no idea, so here is my brain in scrambled pieces. I'm so sorry it’s so long, I swear it's worth it!

Romania.

It isn’t often you agree to such an extensive trip to meet up with one of your clients, but apparently this particular one can’t be seen in the more supervised countries. Besides, you’ve never been to Bucharest before, so you’re quite enjoying your drink at the small picturesque café.

You’ve done your research and know damn well who you’re meeting up with. A small part of you is screaming at you not to agree to do business with him or back out now, but your curiosity overrules any common sense. Last you heard, Hydra had lost their favourite asset and you can confidently say you were relieved to hear it. It had been a few too many times that specific organisation had made your job more difficult than it had to be.

A many number of things could have happened to the Winter Soldier. He could’ve been killed, corrupted by another organisation, fled to live as a hermit– You really want to know. It’s the spy in you that enjoys knowing the ins and outs of the criminal world. He’d tried not to mention who he is, but you had a few offers on the table, he needed some leverage to get you to agree to meet him. Safe to say, you were surprised he’d told you he was the Winter Soldier. Big chance you will now be the only person to know about the asset’s current whereabouts. That is, if you live to tell it of course…

Every hair in your neck stands up straight, despite the comfortable weather and the easy going crowd roaming the street. The sudden change in atmosphere has your spy senses stand on alert. Your spine stiffens and you causally look around, slightly discouraged at the way your body has never responded to anything in this particular manner.

You cross your legs and turn to look behind you, scanning every face in the crowd. When you turn back, the seat next to yours is taken, only a rickety metal table separating you from the large man sat in the other chair. Your breath halts in your throat and you look him up and down, instantly recognising the buff man as the Winter Soldier. How? You’re not sure, you’d never really seen a picture.

You check his hands. Gloves. With this weather? To cover up. You check his build and take a particularly long time to do so, because God, this man is broad. He’s all sturdy flesh and muscle, firm and casual. His thighs look like tree trunks and you know the man is fast, despite his build. You force the deliberate sweep of your eyes over his body to appear more nonchalant and confident than you feel.

Then your eyes reach his face and the breath gets knocked out of you. There is nothing in that face that hints towards a stone cold killer. Dark blue, deep set eyes, freckles pattered over his nose and cheeks, lips bitten raw from contemplation and an expression on his face that almost looks like… Nerves?

“Hello,” you start carefully, unable to keep your surprise from your tone, but sounding relatively cool to your own relief.

“Hi,” he says and the tone of his voice is deep, but rough, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. You think that maybe he hasn’t.

“Should I refer to you as the Winter Soldier?” you ask, composing your cool nature entirely now. “Or would you say that is a bit on the nose?”

He huffs a laugh and you smile, feeling the overwhelming urge to make him do that again. “James will do, thanks.”

“Alright James,” you say, taking your time to let your mouth get acquainted with his name, “what is it you need my services for?”

“I hear you’re a spy,” he starts and searches your face. “A good one– the best one.”

“Well now, I’d hate to disappoint,” you purr. “What do you need?”

“It’s not so much a document or one piece of information,” he mumbles and his face hardens as he collects himself. You sit upright and frown as you study him. “I need you as a partner for an assignment.”

You instantly shake your head, “Absolutely not. I’m not working for Hydra, that organisation is–”

“Not Hydra,” he quickly cuts in. “Just me. It’s a personal assignment.”

You wait for him to continue, not appreciating his vague communication if he wants to become partners on whatever this is.

He sighs, “I– I have a lot of… gaps. Things I don’t remember, things I can’t quite place. Years of information. The things I did for Hydra– I wasn’t there for most of it. Neither were a lot of people. So I need someone with access to some dark shit to help me figure it out.”

Chewing your lip, you process the information he gives you and empathy clenches your heart together. James gives you the time you need to put the pieces together. You’d heard of Hydra’s experiments with brainwashing and had already sort of assumed some of their soldiers had only worked for them because of that reason, had stayed far away from the organisation’s shit to steer clear from that danger.

But it’s so different to see it in real life, or what is left of it, you suppose. Many things aren’t quite clear to you just yet. However, you slowly start nodding your head. Your brain starts running a million miles an hour, all the gears turning to form a plan, the way you always do before you agree to a job.

“Can you pay me for the service?” you ask, already wondering to yourself if you’d help the clearly hopeless and damaged man for free, and to be honest, just for kicks. The things you’d dig up from everything he’ll give you– Selfishly, you’d kill for it. Anyone would kill for it.

He gives you a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “Not that much. But I can save up more.”

You think. Your gut tells you he won’t kill you after he gets what he wants, even though he could. And though you will always keep a close eye on him and everything he’s capable of, your gut feeling has never disappointed you.

So you sigh and shake your head. “That’s okay. I’ll do all of it for free, and you can pay me what little you have to insure that I stay quiet. Sound fair?”

His eyes narrow with a twinkle that you hadn’t expected from a man like him and he says, “Deal.”

“Alright,” you say and finish your coffee before clearing your throat. “First order of business: tell me your full name.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Oh shit.

You do know him.

Germany.

Relief seeps into your bones as you cross the threshold of your building and you slip into your routine of coming home. Tired feet drag you through your building and to your apartment, and muscle memory unlocks your door. After the week you’ve had, you are ready to turn off your brain and settle down.

You enjoy being this tired though, revel in it. Exhausting yourself with a normal person job and the way it puts your usually restless body to sleep at night is exactly what you wanted for your life.

One step into your own hallway, however, makes your daydream of a quiet night in crumble to your feet. Something is off. You can blame your trained senses for being so instantly on edge, but the apartment you just stepped into isn’t a place that has been vacated for the past nine hours. This apartment isn’t empty.

An even older routine settles into your bones this time and you creep into your home on light feet. The air is warm and the space is completely quiet. You’ve been alive long enough, seen enough, to know quiet is never good.

You don’t turn on any lights and let your eyes adjust to the dark. Ears perked and muscles at the ready to spring into action, you slowly make your way further into your home. And when you slip around the corner and look into your darkened living room, you let out a frustrated sigh at the dark figure lounging on your couch.

“How did you find me here,” you grumble and it is hardly a question.

You can feel him sit up and tune in to your presence. You couldn’t explain it if your life depended on it, but you instantly knew who it was. The dark figure in the dark apartment, waiting patiently for someone to catch him. After all, he will deny it until his dying day, but he does have an awful lot of dramatic flair for someone so stoic.

“Better question is: why are you here?” he counters and you drop your bag onto one of your dining chairs, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Trying to stay off the radar, are you?”

“And failing, clearly,” you say before he can say it for you. “How did you find me here, James?”

Your eyes are finally fully adjusted and you see the smirk forming on his face. You haven’t seen that smirk in five years. “I have my ways,” he says and pushes off the couch, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now, what are you doing in this abandoned town?”

“It’s not abandoned,” you counter and slip off your coat, deciding to just go about your old routine and ignore his presence as much as you can. Maybe then he’ll go away.

“It’s a shit town and you know it.” He cocks his head at you, eyes tracking all of your movements.

You notice his puzzled look. He’s genuinely wondering what is left of his old ally and you can’t quite blame him. Perhaps he can easily see your lame attempt at finding a normal life for yourself. He has probably tried a thousand times himself to escape the roaring life of saving the world, has probably failed every time, too. But you’re determined to make it work – make yourself normal and live a full life.

And that is all you were to him anyway, just an ally. The entire time, you’d felt that he paid a little too much attention to you, but you supplied critical information and occasionally wiped someone off the map. A spy. Nothing more, nothing less. However, for the infamous Winter Soldier to need your alliance again, you cannot help but feel wary.

After the first time he approached you, you’d spent months together. It was an effort not to grow too close – too much effort. Because you had. It was impossible not to, helping someone literally piece their life together through intimate and awful memories. Digging through protective walls and coping mechanisms to help him rebuild some of his life again. With a lot of reluctance from both of you.

Yes, you’d grown close then. Grown close enough that you fell asleep slumped over the kitchen counter in his awful Romanian apartment, your face sticking to the countless research papers. You’d woken up hours later on his poorly constructed bed on the floor with a blanket thrown over your frame. Close enough that you’d eventually asked him to assist you on your missions. Ones that required a different skillset than your own. Close enough that you cooked for each other, sometimes shared clothes, roasted one another for the mental health issues that lead you both to your current occupations.

After a while, you couldn’t describe your relation to Barnes in any other way than a partnership. Partners. Who had kissed once. Maybe twice. After some bad Vodka.

You sigh and turn to him, “Why are you here, James?”

“I need to lay low for a while.” A wider smirk, his eyes narrowing at you. “I remembered I know someone who is very good at that.”

“Careful,” you warn and roll your eyes. “You just gave me a compliment.”

His smirk turns to a smile and he shrugs off his own jacket, instantly making himself at home in your apartment. A strange thing when it comes to Bucky, since you don’t recall that man feeling at home anywhere. Then, he did always have this incessant cocky streak around you and he is awfully good at getting on your nerves, so he probably sees the perfect opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

“If you so much as sneeze on anything, I swear–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, his tone unimpressed. “You’ll skin me alive. You’re always so weird about your stuff.”

You give him a tiny proud smile and decide to make yourself something quick to eat, only to feel him peer at you from the edge of your kitchen. He’s met with a confused frown before you raise your brows at him to make him spit it out.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily.

You smile and look down at the sandwich you’re making. “Nothing. Just fix your shit and get out of my hair as quickly as possible.”

He winces slightly and you turn to him fully now, slowly taking a bite.

“What.”

Bucky sucks in a short breath and gives you an apologetic look before he speaks, “It might be a while…”

Your brows drop, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I–”

“Bucky.” You cut him another look, one shaped by many, many instances of working together. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It’s not important. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You open your mouth to continue arguing with him, but decide against it, already done with his shit. Yes, he is doing better and supposedly now qualifies as a good person. But you know the man before you and the soldier cannot stop himself from lying about pretty much everything. He has damaged tendencies. Give him an inch and he will take a mile, show him a weakness and he will exploit it. You genuinely think he doesn’t know how to be different, how to not abuse those effortless skills he trained all those years working for Hydra and surviving it.

“It’s my weekend off,” you tell him instead. “If you get between me and my plans, I will change the locks.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think I can’t get through a simple lock?”

Another glare is his answer and he raises his hands in surrender. You walk around him and toe off your own shoes, grabbing everything to take a shower as you shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth. Bucky slowly strolls through your place and examines everything that belongs to you.

“Can you not pretend like you haven’t completely scanned the place already before I got home?” you ask him as you make way for the bathroom.

“It can’t hurt to have a second look,” he mumbles, but you have already closed the door and move take the shower you’ve been looking forward to the entire day.

You should probably work harder to get him out, should probably make an escape plan and move somewhere else. But you know arguing with him is futile and the best approach with him is to patiently wait for him to move on. Bucky doesn’t get attached and doesn’t nest, so he’ll be gone soon enough.

As the scolding water trickles down your scalp and spine, you realise how much more alert you should have been when you noticed someone was in your home. Especially with all of those loose ends and enemies you have scattered across this planet (and others). Yet, somehow you think your body knew it was Bucky waiting for you. After all, it isn’t the first time he’s pulled this shit, waiting up for you. Usually because you kept something from him, he found out and would start ambushing you to fess up.

And even though technically, you haven’t exactly kept anything from him this time, you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that explaining your current situation will be the hardest thing to ever speak up about. How pathetic, to try and live a normal life when you’re ‘extraordinary’. Ugh, you hate that word. You’re trained well and you refuse to be anything but good at what you put your mind at.

Now, Bucky. He is extraordinary. He has potential to make a difference. You have always felt that. Hated working with him because of that. Not because of him – he never made you feel less than him at all. But–

The water turns cold and you groan audibly, time having slipped away from you as you got lost in thought. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you get ready to walk out of the bathroom. You’re met with Bucky sitting on your couch, reading one of your books.

“Let me guess, warm water’s gone?” he asks, not looking up from the book.

You walk to your bedroom and shrug, “Cold showers are good for you, I heard.”

“I suppose I’ll take the couch then?” he asks, finally looking up from the book.

You turn back and peek through your doorway at him. “You can take the floor if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Not by choice.”

He smirks, “You liked it.”

“You snore.”

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He grins at you.

You make to get to bed when you pause and turn back to him once more with a slight frown. “Why are you so cheerful? Aren’t there people after you?”

“Well,” he says, casual as always, “these may very well be my last days, so I might as well be in a good mood.”

You find yourself swallowing hard and desperately search his face for any intel on how true his statement is, without giving away that you might just care a little bit about his well-being. But his grin stays firm in place and he raises his brows in wait for you to call it a night.

Without another word, you close the door between you and crawl into your comfortable bed. And you wonder why it is that you can’t quite get comfortable this time.

…

A powerful jolt rips through your body as you lift out of layers of sleep. You’re too tired for whatever made you wake up so suddenly. It’s too goddamn late for this shit.

But as you gain more and more of your consciousness, your senses start perking up and you realise you might very well be in danger. The gentle and calm voice calling your name with a warm stroke of a hand down your arm, confirms that for you. That specific type of calm in Bucky’s voice sends your body into overdrive.

“We’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he murmurs and is already throwing clothes onto your bed. “Now.”

You sit up and rub your eyes and it dawns on you after a week of Bucky staying at your place. This man wasn’t going to leave you until he got chased out of your apartment. And that day has come.

“Bucky,” you start with a hoarse voice as you climb out of your warm bed and quickly throw on the clothes he picked for you, “who the fuck is after you?”

He takes his time to answer, pulling two fully packed backpacks from the corner of your room that you surprisingly didn’t know he hid there. Oh, this man is going to get an ear full about this bullshit.

“Some weird underground cartel that deals in tech or something,” he grumbles and throws you a pack. You are nearly too slow to catch it before you sling it onto your back. You gape at him after his answer and his face stays solemn as he pushes a hand gun into your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Bucky.”

He stops and turns to you fully. “It’s bad, okay? I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

He groans out your name, peeking outside while he impatiently chews on his lip. “Don’t do this right now. You can be pissed at me later!”

“I will be pissed at you now,” you seethe, “and later. How about that?!”

He sighs and then grabs your arm, giving you a boyish grin before shooting two bullets through your window, breaking the glass, slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and jumping out of the fucking window with you clinging to him. It’s only when you fly about five stories down, that you realise the two of you are attached to a bungee rope that eases your descent. His feet touch the ground first, yours following. He cuts the rope and grabs your hand before he starts running towards the parking lot beneath your building.

“Bucky, you piece of shit!” you yell at him as you run, hearing the faint sound of gun fire behind you over the sound of your ragged breathing.

“I’ll make it up to you!” he simply yells back.

You can hear the smile in his voice. And the worst thing? You feel yourself smiling as well when you realise how easily you’ve slipped back into being his partner in crime.

…

Bucky checks one more time, his gleaming metal hand pulling the sheer curtain aside to peer out onto the dark streets. You hear some shouting coming from outside and still feel your heart pounding, even when you know you have definitely outrun those people coming after you. You hate how out of practice you are. And how much you missed the adrenaline of being on the run with Bucky.

He turns back to you and finds you with your arms crossed, glaring at him. Oh, you know the perfect way to let out this adrenaline. There might be actual steam coming out of your ears.

Bucky cringes and slowly strolls over, already reaching out his hands to use his irresistible charm on you. Like the time he dropped the cake you made one afternoon and tried to make it up to you. Or that time he left some very important documents in one of the buildings he set on fire. Or the time he accidentally deleted your recordings off the TV when you had been looking forward to watching the next episode for two weeks.

However, your burning eyes stop him dead in his tracks and he opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and closes his mouth again. A second later, he tries again, “Okay. Give it to me.”

You give him a satisfied, albeit sadistic smile, at his willingness to take your scolding and then, you start yelling. You have no idea what words specifically are rolling off your tongue, but your speech starts somewhere during that first meeting in Bucharest, drifts to your entire time together as partners, how you drifted apart, only for him to show up whenever he pleased, and you continue to how he stood at your door a little over a week ago, to him terrorising your happy little life in Germany… To now.

Your voice rises with every instance you tell him about, fire burning in your core and hands flailing to give your story that much more power (even though you couldn’t stop your conviction if you tried). As the grin on his face grows through your rambling, a metal hand pressing to his lips to stop it from showing too much, you burn even brighter with fury.

Then you stop, breathing heavily. You give him a withering look to get him to start speaking up, because let’s be honest, all the two of you really needed was only just a look.

His shoulders slowly stop shaking and he drops his hand, eyes sparkling like a glass of Prosecco in the light. Devious asshole. “I just– I haven’t seen you this alive in a while. It looks fantastic on you.”

You gape at him like a fish and you wonder if the warmth in your face still belongs to your anger. Though you fear it belongs to quite the opposite. Either way, this man certainly knows how to make you passionate. And you realise he knows what you have been trying to do with your fake little life here in Germany.

“I don’t think you–”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps forward, his large hands cupping your face as he looks down at you with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for making your life so goddamn miserable. So tell me how to make it up to you.”

And for all the world, you can tell he means it. Can tell that he will do anything to make it up to you. You can almost feel the squeeze of pain in your own heart when you see the disappointment in his eyes after he realises you didn’t enjoy this as much as he had.

But the worst part is, is that you did. You’ve never felt more alive than with him. Never felt more like you. You wouldn’t necessarily call him an adventurer, maybe he is just a magnet for trouble. But whenever you’re with Bucky, you’ll drop anything for him and you’ll burn like an inferno doing so. He makes you into the best version of yourself and he makes you love the parts about yourself that you have been conditioned to feel guilty about.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He doesn’t let go though and searches your eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. “I’m going to make it up to you, you know.”

You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? How?”

He smirks and your knees weaken. “I could kiss it better.”

“Shameless flirt,” you huff and roll your eyes as an excuse to break his intense stare on you.

“You’re just too proud to admit that my kisses would make you forgive me,” he prods and your eyes snap back to his. He’s right, that is pride surging in your chest to lunge at him.

“You’ve grown too cocky for your own good,” you sneer at him.

“You like it.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Manipulator.”

He feigns hurt, “Ouch.”

You huff a laugh with a roll of your eyes, “Such a fragile ego.”

He smirks again and you swallow as you fight to look at his lips. So close to your own. “Now you have to kiss me for forgiveness.”

You can’t help but truly laugh this time, your face still safely tucked in his palms and his brows raise with intrigue at the sound of your laughter.

You tell him, “You are so full of shit.”

His smile fades, his eyes large with earnest and all of a sudden, it’s the man standing before you that sat next to you in that Romanian café. Stripped down, bare, rough, and perhaps a bit vulnerable.

“Let me kiss you,” he says in merely a whisper now.

You fight for your life not to falter to that genuine request and the way he said it. “It won’t make me forgive you,” you say softly, but barely hear your own voice over the increased pounding of your heart in your throat.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “Just want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t wait for your permission either, because quite frankly, you most likely gave him a look of permission instantly at that request. His soft lips slot over yours and you could’ve never predicted the depraved moan that resounded in the back of your throat as your mouths meet. Your hands instantly slip into his hair as Bucky’s hands slide around your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

The kiss deepens when his tongue meets yours and he lets out a groan of his own, a sound so addicting that you instinctively tug on his hair to hear it again. The laugh against your lips is rough as he hauls you closer and changes the kiss. Something more desperate and impatient. Something hot and sweaty and slightly messy. You might be walking as Bucky finds something to press you up against or lay you down on, and you almost squawk in surprise as you fall back onto the double, motel bed.

Though before you can say anything else, Bucky is on you again, his mouth demanding and greedy against yours. His hands feel and grab and squeeze every inch of you and you grind your hips upward for his weight. You want his heaviness between your hips and on your stomach and against your chest.

Growing impatient, convinced that Bucky’s brain might no longer be working, you lock your ankles around his hips and pull him down between your legs, sighing a groan of relief at the feeling of him tucked against you so warmly.

“God dammit,” he grunts and gives one luxurious roll of his hips against yours, making you whine as your pulse hammers down in your core.

His mouth grazes against your neck now and you can hardly breathe, panting as if you’ve run a marathon. The pressure between your hips leaves as he moves further down and you buck your hips at the ache he leaves.

“Bucky,” you whimper and look down, heart slamming in your throat at the sight of him. He messily yet gently makes his way down your body. Hands roughly pushing up your shirt as his lips find the plane of your stomach, kissing from your bra, down to your hips that you can’t seem to keep still.

Your body feels so heavy, yet so light without him on top of you and you can’t remember any moment before this kiss. Before five minutes ago. Everything is solidified. Your entire history with him. And Bucky presses a kiss just below your navel that confirms that feeling, his hands peeling off your jeans. That is until he speaks.

“Listen to me,” he orders and you freeze at the sound of him. He’s only sounded like that during missions where either of you might die. So serious and detrimental. “Don’t ever try to build a life without me again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” he snaps and you close your mouth. “Don’t ever pretend like we don’t exist. Like you and I aren’t supposed to do this shit together, like you are better off without me, like I am better off without you. That’s bullshit.” You give him a questioning look. Where is this coming from? “I’m going to kiss you and you are going to forgive me. And then I am going to kiss you some more.”

He waits then. For you to answer, to process what it is he is saying exactly. It’s a lot of words with a lot of meaning, yet you’re not sure if this is the declaration you didn’t know you were waiting for.

So you speak from your gut and let out a breath, “Finally.”

Bucky smiles at that and surges upward, clearly happy with that intuitive answer. His lips claim yours once again and then you feel his fingers inching up your thigh.

You whine softly against his lips and you feel him smile as his fingers reach your drenched core. Two fingers slip through your folds to explore your wetness and Bucky drops his head into the crook of you neck.

“Finally indeed,” he breathes and slips his middle finger into you, making you whimper and buck your hips.

The stretch against your swollen walls sends an ache through your abdomen that cries out for more. You cannot explain the desperation to have him, to have every empty pit of you filled with his essence. His finger curls up and you throw your head back, making Bucky raise his own head to look at you.

“There?”

You nod frantically and Bucky pushes in another finger, making you tense up around him. He curls that one too and you don’t recognise the sound spilling from your lips. You’re already so fucking full.

As Bucky teasingly darts his thumb over your swollen clit, he traces his tongue over your mouth and you gasp for air at the sensation.

“Bucky, fuck!” you cry and he pushes his mouth to yours in a claiming kiss, his fingers moving faster as his thumb rotates over your clit. You can barely kiss him back, overtaken by pleasure as he pumps his fingers over and over until you can hear your wetness surround his sinful fingers.

It is by far the hottest thing you have ever experienced. So much time has passed and now this beast of a man who tries everything to make you blush with his flirty persona, is bent over you with his fingers peeling your pleasure to the surface like his own fucking release depends on it.

His chest is heaving from watching you, brows pulled together, eyes dark as they rake over you hungrily, muscles flexing as his hand disappears between your legs.

His leg slips beneath your knee and pulls your leg up to finger you in a different angle and your nails bury themselves in the muscles of Bucky’s neck, abdomen flexing at the wave of pleasure that courses through you. “More. Oh my God, more!”

“I know, I can feel it,” he grunts and slows his fingers. “But I’ve waited ages for this. I refuse to let it be over so soon.”

Your brain is nothing but cinders and you shake your head violently, “No! No, please. You can have everything, just let me come. Please.”

Bucky pecks your lips. Once. Twice.

“You want to come all over my hand, pretty girl?” he murmurs in your ear and you can only gasp at the press of his fingers against your spot. “Can I lick you up after?”

You clench around him like a vice, his low voice making you drip onto his palm, his words incinerating what is left of your pride. You can only nod, so you do. And his hand starts moving again. Faster, deeper, more thorough. You keep nodding, your moans raising, your pleasure retreating like a snake ready to strike. Oh God, oh God, oh God–

“Come.”

Your hips fly to the ceiling when you come, thighs trembling and closing around his hand. Bucky keeps moving and thrusting and curling until he has wrung all of your pleasure from your body and you feel like you’re made of jelly. Your voice is hoarse from yelling your release and the sheets below are drenched with your desire.

Soft kisses are pressed to your face and that is how you return from whatever plane of existence you went to. His gentle laugh makes you shiver and you open your eyes to find him licking his fingers like there is caramel dripping from them. You swallow hard and zero in on that action, making his eyes sparkle.

But something changes when you reach up to stroke his hair and his eyes flutter. Your eyes rove over his face in admiration and your entire soul sighs at the sight of him. Bucky looks down at you curiously and cocks his head.

“What is it?” he asks and you chew your lip, trying to find the words.

“You and me, huh?” you murmur with something like wonder in your voice. Bucky can only nod. You continue, “Who would’ve thought…”

Bucky leans down and kisses you. Soft, slow, deep. It makes your body sing. And he shuffles back to make himself at home between your legs. Though as he does that, he remains his focus on kissing you. Deeper, more, desperate. Depraved. He moans and breathes and you swear you hear him whimper, his hips grinding over your oversensitive cunt as he gets lost in kissing you.

Raking your nails over his scalp, you once again wrap your legs around his hips and pull him down. And if Bucky hadn’t snapped his leash just yet, this does it. He turns wild and passionate and heavy. One hand of his and one hand of your own both reach down, messily working together to get rid of his jeans. He shimmies out of them, not bothering to get rid of them entirely, but bothering to at least take off his shirt.

Your fingers drag down his pecks and abdomen, trying to memorise every curve and edge with what little brain capacity you have left. You feel like no more than a flame, no more than passion and want and need. And when Bucky slides his bare cock through your folds to slicken himself, you shudder so violently, your breath shudders with it.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” he breathes and nips at your lips.

You almost growl with impatience, “Then fuck me and die already.”

He laughs, bold and happy, before thrusting into you in a long stroke. Home. Oh fuck, he’s home. Both of you freeze, taking in the moment of being fused together before he slowly pulls out and out and out. And sliding back in with an agonizing thrust.

Something in you clicks. Something so vital, so necessary. And Bucky feels it too.

“Yes,” he groans and presses another kiss to your lips, like he can’t get enough. “This is it.”

You nod and close your eyes in pleasure. In relief. You shudder with emotion and clamp onto him. Bucky keeps pressing kisses to your skin. Your neck, your lips, your cheek, temple, forehead.

“This is it,” you choke out and Bucky smiles. “You’re it.”

Bucky breathes a sigh, as if he’s been waiting ages for you to admit it. “Finally.”

Infinity War.

Biting your lip and bouncing your leg, you try to let the rumble of the swift jet calm your nerves. Your eyes search the cabin and go over the confusing screens for the thousandth time.

“Nervous?” Natasha’s sensual voice sounds next to you and you force a smile.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask and smirk at her. “We’re only stepping into a war with the probability of us winning being like…” Zero? Less than zero? You sigh, “I don’t want to think about that.”

She bites back her own smirk and raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t talking about the war. Are you nervous about seeing him?”

Bucky.

You glare at her after quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard her, making Natasha try even harder to hold back a smile.

Yes, you were nervous to see him. So much had happened. So many aspects of your spy work had suddenly intermingled and now you are fighting along with the Avengers. Even after you were sure they had torn themselves apart over Bucky. Being caught in the middle of that had put you and Bucky’s relationship –if you could even call it that– so far to the back of both your minds, you barely had time to mention it to anyone until Steve shipped him off to Wakanda to get some real help.

You and Bucky were over before it even started and you think that maybe it’s for the better. Neither you nor Bucky are any good at that relationship shit anyway. It showed over and over.

Luckily enough, you’d found plenty of distraction being on the run with Sam, Natasha and Steve. No Bucky in sight, but knowing he was safe and taken care of. Private mission after mission with other people you cared about, people who didn’t know about you and Bucky, one of them eager to forget about Bucky himself.

You barely gave it any thought.

Except you thought of Bucky every day.

And now you get to see him again. However, if any time would make you reconsider any commitment at all, it would be now.

“No,” you answer and then turn serious. “I mean, I was. But now I’m just preparing myself for either grief, or death.”

“Are those our only options?” she asks with a displeased frown. “Why not prepare for victory or somethin’?”

Giving her a long and hard stare, you sigh deeply. “Yeah. You’re right. If I die, I might as well die hopeful.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins and you bump her shoulder with yours, finding your own smile breaking through.

That’s when Steve gives Sam the coordinates to fly through a barrier and show you the hidden – and beautiful – kingdom of Wakanda. So you ignore every jittery feeling you have in your stomach at possibly seeing Barnes again, and you channel it all into hope.

…

Natasha strokes her hand over your shoulder as you walk up to king T’Challa, who’s flanked by his closest guard and a palace that screams to get you on your knees to worship. You barely hear the conversation the king has with Steve, partly because you’re still in awe of the beautiful place around you.

Now this, this is a refuge.

“How are we lookin’?” Natasha asks from next to you and that’s when you start to pay attention. You’d need a hell of a lot of man-power to win this.

“You will have my Kings Guard,” T’Challa starts, “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” finishes a voice that makes your entire system dysregulate. Oh God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard the warm timber of that voice.

You notice your hands have started shaking and clutch them behind your back, squeezing courage out of them to face your past, as Bucky Barnes walks up to hug Captain America.

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky answers with a heart-stopping smile.

“Uh, not bad,” he answers, “for the end of the world.”

They share another warm look before Steve turns to everyone behind him and then to the king, “Should we prepare?”

A few minutes later, you’re following the king inside with all of his closest guards and your own team, which now includes Bucky. Focusing your eyes on everything around you, you barely notice the large hand slipping around your elbow and pulling you into another hallway.

You know better than to scream for help and you use the momentum to swing the person around and pin them to the nearest wall with a knife to their throat. But the air rushes from you when you stand face to face with Bucky.

“There she is,” he grins and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

You back away slowly and look at him like a gaping fish, your insides pounding and swirling and thrashing as your body heats with adrenaline. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“New arm?” you ask him, your voice coming out surprisingly steady, and he glances at the appendage, flexing his hand between your faces.

“Yeah, you like it?” he asks and he almost sounds like a young boy, genuinely interested in what you think of it, of him.

And you calm. Everything inside of you settles and the heat turns to warmth. Your insides seem to melt with relief and you throw your arms around his neck, almost tipping over until Bucky’s arms automatically slide around your waist to pull your pliant body tightly against his. He’s so big and strong and warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughs softly and one hand starts to stroke your hair gently as you huff out a sob into his neck. “Oh, sweet girl. You’ve never been sad to see me before.”

You finally pull back and cup his face as he lets you survey him closely, him grinning widely at the worry in your every feature. You breathe, “You’re good. You’re safe.”

He nods and takes your hands, pressing a kiss to your palm. “So are you,” he whispers and you nod.

“Not for long,” you add, deflated.

He gives you a sad smile. “Now, who would we be if we didn’t go down fighting, hm?”

You smile slightly at that. “Back on the same team.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and the planet stops turning.

“Finally.”

The Blip.

Another knock sounds and you roll your eyes, throwing on a quick cardigan as you hop over to your door. Unusual, for your quiet, lonely evenings to get interrupted like this. You’re ready to cash in what you can only assume is some complaining neighbour or your awful land lord when you open the door and are met with a familiar face that makes your heart squeeze together.

“Steve,” you breathe.

“Hey.”

You step aside to let him in and take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” you ask as you close the door behind him and let him venture into your home. Or, whatever you have tried to turn into your home. It had never been more than the latest home trends and some empty picture frames.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I found you?” he asks and you get a feeling of déjà vu.

But you shake your head with a forced smile, “I left a trace for Natasha to track for emergencies. I know how you found me.” You give him a pointed look and Steve actually has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

That look tells you enough about how much of an emergency this is and you wonder what prompted Natasha to decipher your code and hand your location to the Captain. Maybe he was the one breaking and could use a familiar face. Maybe something turned him awfully worried about you. Maybe-

No.

“Aren’t you mad that Natasha told me?” he asks unsurely and you give him a tight-lipped smile, taking a seat in one of your dining table chairs and ushering for him to do so as well.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s actually quite nice to see a familiar face after five pretty lonely years?” you refute and he gives you a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you, too, Kid.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two and you fidget with your hands, staring at them intently before raising your face back to Steve. “Why are you here, Cap?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ever since the Blip,” he starts and you can feel him debating whether to continue, “I never– I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about Bucky.”

You freeze and slowly turn your gaze to him. “Okay. Now I am pissed at her.”

“Natasha didn’t tell me,” he quickly assures and you raise a brow at him. “He did.”

You fall quiet at that. “Bucky told you about…”

“What,” he laughs. “Didn’t think you two were serious enough for him to tell his best friend about it?”

You reply with a humourless laugh of your own. “He um– He wasn’t a very committing guy. And I don’t blame him. Why commit to something if you might lose everything all over again?”

The pity in Steve’s gaze feels burning to your skin. “Well, if you’re that scared of losing something, it might be worth committing to,” he says and you find yourself agreeing with the wise bastard.

“Well, I committed and look where I am now,” you huff. “Turns out, he was right all along.”

“Kid–”

“Why are you here, Cap?” you try again, all of a sudden too eager to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to answer and dread settles low in your belly. When he starts talking, you’ve already started shaking your head. “We have found a way to bring them all back.”

You still. And you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe another five years have passed.

“Did you hear what I said?” he tries.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We figured out a way. Time travel.”

You bark a laugh and give him a pointed glare. However, your vision is already slightly impaired by the tears pooling at your waterline. “Don’t,” you stop him before he continues elaborating. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this in the past five years? That you, or Nat, or even Tony fucking Stark himself would stand at my door and tell me we figured it out? About a million times, Cap. And the more normal this delusional scenario became in my head, the more absurd it seemed to be. And now, you expect me to just believe that nearly five years on the dot, you have figured out a way to return everything to normal?!”

Steve can take it, the sudden outburst of your disbelief. He has definitely encountered a whole lot more scepticism in his life. But his heart breaks a little for you. Bucky had tried to be so casual when he finally told Steve about you, but Steve had caught the sparkle in those hundred-year-old eyes and he couldn’t describe the relief of Bucky having found someone, let alone you.

But now, to see you so far removed from Bucky – from hope. He hates it.

“I waited,” he almost whispers. “Until I was completely sure. We need you for this.”

You blink away your tears and one rolls down your cheek. Steve quickly reaches to catch it and cups your face. A touch normally so very unwelcome, but now you cannot help but bury your face in his palm.

“You’re sure?” you ask, voice breaking.

Steve pulls you in and up to his chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Time to bring our best friend back, Kid.”

Time Travel.

You cannot help but smile when you see the handsome brainiac hunched over a laptop near some high-tech stage that you can’t seem to look at too long without talking yourself out of this.

“Hey, Tony,” you say quietly as you walk up and his brown eyes light up when he hears your voice. Stepping away from the screen, he opens his arms wide and pulls you into a tight hug. Another comfortable embrace that you can only breathe in and cherish.

“My favourite spy,” he murmurs and pulls back.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

He gives you a knowing look. “Oh, you know. Good. Until he showed up,” he sneers with a pointed look at Steve, who simply rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he has a way of interrupting peace.”

Tony snorts. “Now that, is what I call a paradox.”

You laugh and pat his shoulder, “Pepper and Morgan?”

“They’re wonderful.” He grins, but you can see the fear shining in his eyes and you give his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this, Tony.”

He smirks in answer. “I swear, if you and Barnes don’t openly kiss after all I am about to sacrifice, I will find the stones and undo both of your existences.”

You shoot a thunderous glare to Steve, and to Natasha who is walking up behind the Captain. But Tony stops you before you can scold them on their horrible secret-keeping skills, “Pepper told me.”

You grit your teeth.

The Avengers are a bunch of gossips.

The Endgame.

You stumble backward, your sprained ankle and broken ribs somehow only a faint ache over the sight before you. You almost trip over debris, or a body, or just air and you keep blinking to see better or to make it all go away, you don’t know.

He did it. Tony did it. You’re sure you can still feel the snap of his fingers vibrate through your spine. And there he is. Slumped against more debris, half of his face cracked like burnt coal, his suit barely reflecting its original colours. The blue light at the centre of his chest is fading, shuttering and then… it goes dark. With Pepper’s hand over it.

Your own hand barely muffles the sob trying to break through and you stumble over and over again as you back away from that horrible, awful reality. He did it. But at what cost?

You turn around and start jogging. How? You’re not sure. Your body is in no state to hurry. But it’s incomplete. You were barely strong or extraordinary enough to be of any help during the fight, but you tried your best. Helping people in the field, some war medic patching up gushing wounds. You’d cashed some punches and kicks yourself. Dealt them, too.

It was all because you needed to be there. Because you needed to stay alive. Needed to stick around to see him again. And now… Now… You barely survived this, barely made it through. And Tony died. Tony Stark. The chance of him still being out there-

You start running faster. Hobbling and grunting from the pain.

“Bucky,” you voice is raw and frantic, it’s barely a sound as you cry out for him. “Bucky! Bucky!”

Head swinging from side to side, you hope the soldier reveals himself from behind one of the plumes of smoke. Further and further away, you flee from the horrifying scene of whatever is left after Thanos. You need to find him, but you can’t identify anything on this war ground.

If he’s dead. If Bucky is dead–

Your head whips around so fast, your neck might crack, when you’re sure you hear your name. Everything about you goes quiet and you hold your breath like it will make any difference. Slowly, you walk in the direction where you assume the sound came from, but you almost cringe at the idea that you might just be going insane. After all those explosions, your hearing can’t possibly be this sharp.

Though perhaps intuition is at play here, because you’ve always been able to feel him. Always knew it when it was him waiting up for you, or looking for you, or needing you.

“Bucky,” you croak again.

“Here…” It’s so quiet. But you hear it over everything else and follow the echo of the sound.

“Bucky,” you rasp out. “I’m coming!”

And there he is. On hands and knees, struggling to get up. You can only describe your approach as a dive, as you clash onto your wobbly knees and wrap your arms around him. His body instantly stops struggling and falls into your rib cage.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

“Yeah,” he groans. “’M right here.”

You had no idea you were sobbing it to him, but you don’t care as your hands grapple for a better hold of him. He does the same until both of you are kneeling in front of each other, cupping each others’ faces to check for injuries.

“You look pretty all roughed up,” he mutters and you smile through your tears.

“You look awful,” you reply and he chuckles before pulling you into his chest. “But you’re home.”

He shudders and you might actually hear him let out a sob of his own as he tightens his grip on you.

“Finally.”

#SLOW BURNNNN #I looove their dynamic okay #lots of dialogue which we all love #some action and fluff and passion adn efgedksbf i love them ok?!#PLease tell me what you think and if this is maybe too long...#it's a bit intimidating i get that but it's an easy read i promise #ok i love you guys #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #writing #bucky barnes fluff

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alastors-antlers · 3 months

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Being someone who sees a lot of talk about shipping Alastor (sexually, romantically) in fanworks, I just want to take some time to talk about both sides of the issue. It's long, I know - please, please bear with me until the end, and I hope you'll understand what I mean in a bit.

I hope this helps someone, but as an aroace person who understands the frustration and hurt, this is often how it feels to me:

Alastor, being one of the limited cases of aspec rep that I've seen and one of even fewer which I actually enjoyed, means a lot to me.

That being said, his canon rep establishes that he's aroace but not much about how this factors into his life or relationships at all -- and when there's a gap in canon, I turn to fanfiction, which tends to spotlight characters' queerness even when the source material doesn't or can't. Don't we all want to see ourselves in the media we engage with?

When I pull up AO3, there are already a good number of fics about him. Great! Some of them are definitely incredible; but as I read on, it starts to seem like a lot of fics I see acknowledge that he's asexual or aromantic in some way but don't really factor that into the story. It reads like you could have written the story without keeping his queer identity in mind, and it would've come out the same.

Even when representation that does resonate with me exists, it starts to be exhausting to pick through the slash tags to see which ones are written in an aspec-coded way, so I wonder if it would be easier to not read anything with slash at all. On the other hand, when you filter ships out completely, only a tiny fraction of the fanworks are left.

People often respond that aspec people can have relationships, and I think we tend to know that. They can have sex, some can experience sexual attraction in select situations, they can romance others beyond romantic attraction -- any combination of things. But some aroace people don't want either, and sometimes we're struggling to see ourselves in how Alastor is typically portrayed.

Out of all of the fics, sex-repulsed, totally aromantic Alastor isn't seen much. And when Alastor's limited canon seems to be pretty supportive of a reading where he is those things...

Sometimes, you start to feel lost. If fics were evenly distributed along the aroace spectrum of experiences, wouldn't you expect more fics of him being the "totally uninterested" brand of aroace? But there aren't. People seem to have a preference toward seeing him in relationships. Even if they mean well, it can make you think: what does that say about how we view asexuality/aromanticism as a whole?

Is there something less interesting about Alastor, when romance is taken out of the picture? Do others find him less appealing as a character if they can't see him dating, or in love, or having sex or wanting it? Why do we need romance, when romance is already everywhere else, when it doesn't even feel like he was originally really interested? It brings to mind a struggle to be societally accepted, even today.

Even when it's not technically wrong to write Alastor as you see him, being told that we should all be able to ship him however we want can feel like this:

It brings to mind people who try to swing in with misinformed good intentions, telling us "oh, you're aromantic? but you can still have romantic relationships, right? so you can still be normal." when all we want is to be okay outside of the normal.

Or trying to find a partner who can be with us, out of everyone who tells us "I know you don't enjoy sex, and that's okay, but I can't have a romantic relationship with you without it." and being so tired of hoping for someone who gets it.

Or talking with peers, and hearing them all commiserate and fawn over their experiences with love, then telling them about someone you like non-romantically and getting "aww, it sounds like somebody's got a crush!" but not being believed when you tell them it's not like that at all.

Alastor is not a big deal, not really, not in the grand scheme of things. But in an allonormative world, it can feel like a sudden splash of cold water when we were expecting a warm fire to sit around. Even within this ecosystem, we squint to see ourselves reflected.

Society isn't built for us. It can be exhausting to be reminded of that.

~~~

I hope to support people writing Alastor as any variation of aspec, or not even aspec at all. At the end of the day, I think that fanon is really whatever you want it to be, and everyone has their own reasons for writing what they find enjoyable. They should be allowed to do so, and I want to believe that people do what they do with good intentions.

They want to imagine scenarios with the templates of characters they love, and that's okay; even beyond sexuality/queer identities/etc., fan interpretations of characters can be incredibly, wildly different from who they really are in the story anyway, and that's what I try to remind myself. But still, I also can't help feeling disappointed about the aroace representation we could have seen.

(Is Alastor canonically sex-repulsed? Uhh, maybe. If I had to guess, that'd be my top guess, but this might be a hot take: I wouldn't really say there's enough to go off of considering that this view is supported by Angel propositioning him both times, and it's not like Alastor is a particularly big fan of Angel at those points anyway lol)

To my fellow aroaces struggling with Alastor's fandom rep: if you need a break from it all; if you need to block the tags that you hate; if you need to talk to someone about how you're feeling; that's okay. It makes sense that you'd want more representation in a way that helps you feel seen and validated and less alone. I can't speak for everyone, but I think I get it.

I don't have any solutions for how you're feeling, because sometimes I'm feeling the same way. I understand that you want others to get your position and you have the right to express your feelings, but even if you're correct, often being angry or frustrated won't help change others' minds, so let's try to save our energy and take care of ourselves.

Something that helps me to think about is that even now, asexuality is gaining more visibility. We're gaining support. Real change is happening in the world that's helping incredible amounts of aspec people feel freer to be themselves. And maybe one day, we won't be reaching to protect our scraps of representation.

Let's fight until that day together <3

#seriously I appreciate everyone who's out here posting about alastor I love being in the radio demon fanclub lol #just some thoughts that's all and maybe it'll resonate with others #please let's be patient with each other though it's rough out there already #alastor #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #asexual #aromantic #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin #ace #aro

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silverynight · 1 month

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Dynamight's type

Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.

It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.

Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.

"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.

But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.

"Why?"

"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.

"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.

"I know."

"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"

The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.

"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.

"No, but–"

"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.

Izuku honestly doesn't get it.

However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.

Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.

Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.

Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.

"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.

Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?

"Uhh... no."

"That's great!"

Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.

"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.

"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.

"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"

"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.

"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.

Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.

"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"

The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.

Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.

"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"

"Move in with me."

"Why?"

It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.

"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"

Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.

"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.

"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"

After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.

"Let's move in together, Kacchan."

Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.

***

Patreon

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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bgomtori · 3 months

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☆ falling behind - k.th

synopsis - where everyone around you falls in love but you.

-> taehyun x reader

-> strangers to potential lovers, college au!

-> warnings! talks about the inability to fall inlove, yn zones out a lot, mentions of almost dying and being suicidal, alcohol, slowburn

-> note! happy tyun day!! love this man so much :' + laufey is so theraputic, i love her songs sm

love, a complex and profound emotion, an emotion experienced by many at least once in their lifetime. many may find solace in the warmth of shared gazes and the gentleness of intertwined fingers. love is like a canvas painted with the hues of understanding and compassion, where every stroke tells a story of shared excitement, or even bitter arguements. however, not everything is perfect, love can be exhausting and scary. while people yearn for the feeling of affection, some individuals decide to isolate themselves and prevent hurting themselves in the future, and completely destroy the meaning of love.

you sighed at the thought of being attracted to someone romantically, as you listened to your friends' sappy love stories about their partners, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy in your heart. when someone confesses their feelings to you, you can't help but feel disgusted, why can't you feel any romantic feelings towards anyone, like a normal human being? were you a robot? why can everyone around you fall for each other but you? your best friends have been in and out of relationships for god knows how many times, but you could only watch that happen. while everyone was falling inlove, you were falling behind.

"the right one will come to you, maybe by then, you'll feel your heart racing faster." ningning reassured you. but how? how would you know how love would feel like? you looked down, feeling devastated about the thought that you may never get married in the future. "don't worry yn! they'll come to you, it may not be in college, but maybe when you start working? who knows, or maybe they're here right now?" giselle exclaimed, trying to be more positive after seeing your gloomy state.

"i've never fallen in love with anyone before, how am i supposed to know how that feels." you groaned, stirring your coffee even though the milk has already been mixed in. "don't worry! the both of us can help you." you looked up from your sad coffee, just to see your friends stare at you with hopeful looks, you couldn't help but chuckle at them.

"fine." you couldn't believe you agreed to something like that, how were you going to find someone to try, or force yourself to fall inlove with. you were an introvert, you barely knew anyone that was in your college, all you did was follow your friend group around campus and laugh along with their jokes. as you left the cafe, walking in the opposite direction of your friends, you couldn't help but wonder how it was like for you to openly like someone, hold hands, or even kiss. the thought made you cringe, hell no, you can't imagine yourself doing that. however, the sound of finally having a shoulder to cry on, and calling someone yours, made you smile to yourself, that must be nice.

you were completely lost in your own world, not even noticing the traffic light infront of you, it was still red. cars quickly zooming past before the green man appears, you were clueless enough to almost step foot onto the busy street, until someone yanked you away, making you shriek in fear. you came back to your senses, finally realising that you were infront of a traffic light, you looked over your shoulder to notice the man holding you back from almost killing yourself. he was quite attractive, despite his outfit being a graphic tee with some sweatpants on, he had a nice face with big eyes.

"are you blind, or suicidal? why would you walk onto a road with oncoming vehicles." his tone was harsh, you could feel him belittling you. "i was lost in my thoughts, sorry.." you spoke barely in a whisper, slightly embarrassed that a stranger had to save you from a tragedy. he finally let go of your bag, walking away into the distant, you stared at his disappearing figure, wondering why he looked so familiar.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"please yn, let's watch the football finals tonight. don't you wanna support our school." giselle whined, hugging onto your arm. "fine.." you grumbled, you were forced into this, you wanted to go home earlier today after your lecture and rest, but the universe has planned a different fate for you.

"yes! then you're gonna follow us to the after party too." your head turned towards ningning so fast, your head could fly off. "i didn't agree to that." you almost shouted, "nuh uh, you need to socialise, especially since you're in college." ningning gave you a smug look before walking off towards her classroom. you rubbed your head in annoyance, you couldn't believe that you were forced into this, but you were slightly excited, maybe you could find the someone you've been longing for. you quickly shook your head, why would you be thinking about stuff like that now. what are the chances that you would meet your future partner.

"i hate this so much." you mumbled to yourself, taking a seat near the back of the lecture theatre, trying to complete the last few questions of the homework assigned. you hoped that the day would go by faster, so that you could be in the comfort of your own home. yet again, you were occupied by your own thoughts, zoning in and out of lessons, only to be interrupted by the sudden movement at the front of the lecture hall.

"kang taehyun, how many times have you been late to class this month alone." the lecturer complained, taehyun apologised for his tardiness, completely ignoring the lecturers fussing as he made his way to the back of the class, where the only seat available was the one beside you. you stared at his face, trying to make out who he was, he felt familiar.

"oh it's you." he suddenly said, you looked at him with a puzzled expression on your face. that was the guy who saved you yesterday, you blushed at the sudden memory. how embarrassing.. "is this class the reason why you wanted to walk onto oncoming traffic? if it was, i understand." taehyun joked, taking out his laptop from his bag. you rolled your eyes at him, did he really think that you wanted to kill yourself?

"i already told you last night, i was just in my own world, i didn't notice the road infront of me." you retorted, taehyun chuckled at you, bringing his attention back to what the lecturer was teaching. you couldn't help but sneak glances at taehyun, he had to admit that he was fucking attractive, how have you not noticed him before. heck, you didn't even know that he was in your class to begin with. you quickly snapped yourself out of it, trying to focus in class.

"you really zone out a lot." a voice brought you back to reality, you didn't even realise that class had already ended, which part of lesson did you zone out at? "sorry, i think i'm just tired.." you rubbed your heavy lidded eyes, about to leave your seat.

"i'll send you my lecture notes, you gotta repay me though." taehyun stated, you stared at him in confusion, why was he acting so nicely to you? "what are you staring at me for? do you want to fail?" ouch, he was really straightforward. you gave taehyun your email in order for him to email you his notes. you briefly thanked him, walking out of the lecture theatre as fast as you could. you saw your friend group standing in the distance, probably waiting for you, you jogged up to them, giving them an apology for holding up their time.

"what took you so long?" ningning asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

"i zoned out in class, so i needed to get notes from my tablemate, sorry." you explained yourself. ningning gave you a slow nod before pulling you along with her, "well, let's go hang in your dorm before we head out for the match."

not long after, you've been lazing around with ningning and giselle, talking about basic things like what you did during the day, your classes, and obviously, their current partners. you sighed into the palm of your hand, looking down at your phone, scrolling aimlessly on tiktok, nodding your head occassionally at what they had to say.

"i'm so excited to support him later, hey yn, do you want me to introduce some players on the football team to you? i think there's some that may suit you." giselle suddenly questioned, you flinched at the sudden question, shit, you weren't listening at all up till that point.

"it's fine, i'm not looking for anyone right now." you mumbled out your answer, apparently that upsetted giselle, causing her to pout at your words. "you gotta have a look at them, seeing you all single and lonely hurts me too." she whined into your arm, making you cringe a little. you let out a nervous chuckle, pulling her away from your arm, "i'll try."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

this was definitely new to you, the loud screaming, along with the band blasting in the background felt foreign to you. the stadium was packed with students from your school and the opponent's school. the guys were already warming up on the sideline, getting in their stretches as quickly as possible, looking up at the bleachers time to time to spot their friends, family or partners. you looked at the players from the opposing school, you have to say they looked really tough to play against, hopefulky your school would be able to beat them.

now you scanned the players from your school, but to your luck, you accidentally made eye contact with a certain black haired male, kang taehyun? you really didn't know he was apart of your school's football team. you stared at him with widened eyes, shocked to find him there. he caught your gaze, returning the same surprised look you had before slowly waving at you. you looked around you, maybe he was waving at someone else? ah fuck it, you waved back at him, giving him an awkward smile.

"you know taehyun?" ningning teased, bumping your shoulder as if you successfully flirted with someone. you rolled your eyes, "yea, he's in my class. he was the one who gave me notes earlier today." you bluntly replied.

"ooo, he isn't the type who would help someone so easily." giselle smirked, giving you a knowing glance. you glared at her, no. you and taehyun would never be something like that, he was out of your league, and especially if you may not even feel any romantic attraction, you can never be with taehyun.

"that'll never happen." you whispered out, leaning onto the railings infront of you, staring at taehyun as he runs across the field, dribbling the ball with his foot before passing it over to his teammate. yea, he was kinda attractive, but he was off-limits. you hear chanting from your side of the stadium, before it turned to loud screams of delight. they scored, your school scored. you clapped your hands, smiling at the field infront of you. this was fun, something out of your comfort zone, yet so exhilarating.

the match was extremely close, it was currently a tie between your school and the opposing school, the win for your school was dependent on this singular penalty kick. the whistle was finally blowed, signalling for the penalty kick. the tension was high, the stadium was pin-drop silent, eyes fixated on the ball infront of taehyun. everyone was praying for either a good or bad outcome, taehyun took a deep breath in, backing up from the ball slightly, getting a few jogs in before kicking the ball towards the goal.

there was a brief silence before the referee called for the whistle. the game ended, the crowd roared in happiness, screaming their lungs off. the boys on the field jumped onto taehyun, hugging him.

"holy shit, you just helped us win the entire season, you sick bastard." yeonjun yelled, slightly tearing up. taehyun smiled widely at his teammates, if it weren't for them, he wouldn't be able to score that perfect goal at the end.

"they did so well!" ningning slapped you shoulder, along with giselle, making the two of you hiss in pain. "come on now, let's go to the after party before it gets too crowded." ningning exclaimed, hugging the two of you by the shoulder, pulling you guys towards the taxi stand.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"let's all get fucking wasted tonight, this win was ours, let's celebrate it." a tall, lean male shouted causing the whole room to burst in screams and cheers. this night was going to be a hectic one.

fuck, but now this was an awkward situation for you. you were sitting at the corner of the room, sipping on the alcoholic beverage you had in hand, snacking on the snacks infront of you. apparently, giselle and ningning left you to take care of their bags while they were off finding their partners, it's even worse that you barely knew anyone here, you only knew their names, but have you spoken to any of them? that was another thing.

you scrolled on your phone, tuning out the obnoxiously loud music that was blasting, you really wanted to leave. you were zoning out from time to time, either that or observing the people around you. pockets of couples dancing with one another, or making out with each other near where the toilets were, gross. you sighed to yourself, this was getting boring, how much longer into the night must you be here? giselle was supposed to introduce some of the football players to you, but guess that was scraped off her agenda.

"zoning off again?" a voice broke your trance, making you jolt in your seat. it was kang taehyun, again.

"you don't seem like the type who would go to parties." taehyun assumed, taking a seat next to you.

"i was forced here." you simply replied, not wanting to socialise with anyone right now. there was awkward silence between the two of you, allowing you to dive into your thoughts again. recently, you realise that you have been seeing taehyun more often than usual, why was that? was it because he saved you from not accidentally killing yourself.

"you wanna leave this place together?"

"excuse me, what?"

"you heard me, wanna ditch this place, i'm getting bored here." taehyun admitted, shrugging his shoulder while waiting for your response. you played around with your fingers, you were getting bored as well, but is it really worth it to leave this place with a guy you barely knew? furthermore, you have two designer bags that were entrusted to you. well fuck it, you're gonna leave with an attractive guy.

"you know what? sure." you stood up, looking down at the male who was staring at you with shocked eyes, taehyun could only chuckle at your actions, pulling you through the crowd. finally, the air didn't feel hot and sticky anymore. the cool breeze hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. you quietly followed behind taehyun to his car, hoping that he wouldn't knock you up in his car or something.

"where are we going?" you asked, your voice was soft, you weren't exactly comfortable with going into a vehicle with a male in it.

"i know a spot, i find you interesting, i wanna get to know you more." taehyun answered, unlocking his car door. you sat in the passenger seat, not knowing what to do. this was so new to you.

"don't feel too uncomfortable, i won't do anything bad." taehyun reassured, reading your exact thoughts. you nodded your head slowly, looking out of the window, taking in the views while softly humming to the music in the background.

"you're not a talker aren't you?" taehyun broke the silence, trying to brighten the tense atmosphere, only to be shot down by your quick, 'yea'. taehyun remained quiet for most of the ride, unable to find topics to talk about.

"what's your view on love?" you suddenly questioned, taehyun was taken aback, he didn't know how to respond to your inquiry. did you always start conversations like that?

"hmm, i think it's quite meaningful?" taehyun was deep in thought, what really was his view on love. he didn't know, it comes and goes for him, he has never experienced real love. "how about you? you must have had a horrible experience to ask me that question." taehyun shot back the question to you. you stared out of the window, unable to form any words, you barely knew this guy, but he seems reliable.

"it sucks."

"what?"

"i think love is hard to understand." you mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed, now you looked like a loser.

"wow, what made you think that." you pursed your lips, opening up to a new person was harder than you expected. "it's better if i don't tell you.."

"why not? don't trust me enough?" you groaned, rolling your eyes in the process, "i barely know who you are, i'm not telling you my personal feelings." he was getting on your nerves, even though he didn't do anything to harm you.

"yet you're sitting in my car, not knowing where i'm bringing you. wow your priorities are set." taehyun sarcastically said, he was right, you remained silent, unable to argue back. "cat got your tongue?" taehyun tease, you could hear the smirk that was adorned on his face.

"just shut up." you scoffed at him, bringing your attention back to the scenary outside. it was empty, too empty for your liking, at this point you felt like you were getting kidnapped. you recited multiple prayers in your head, you haven't even been able to live your cat lady dreams, but now you may be killed by a football player. how sad is that? you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that maybe a slight nap would be the solution to whatever was happening currently.

"we're here." you stirred from your nap, looking around to check your surroundings. an empty, secluded field, away from the vibrant and bustling city, away from the chaos happening at the party, this was theraputic. the way the wind blew gently into your face, the pretty view of the ocean, plus the night sky embellished with countless stars, the moon's soft glow adds a touch of silver to the tranquil scene.

"you always come here?" you sat next to taehyun, making yourself comfortable as you watched each wave crash onto the rocks below.

"yea, to relieve stress or when i wanna be alone. feels nice right?" taehyun took a deep breath in, the air felt so much cleaner here compared to the polluted air in the city centre. you nodded your head, humming in response, "so why'd you bring me here?"

"nothing in particular, you're quite interesting i guess." taehyun shrugged, his large brown eyes meeting yours, you felt yourself heat up under his intense gaze, what's this feeling? why does it feel so icky, yet so nice..

"so, about earlier, can you tell me why.. why you think love is so complicated." you let out a nervous chuckle after hearing his words, he's going to make fun of you, definitely. "it's kinda embarrassing." you whispered, rubbing your sweaty palms against your thighs.

"i won't judge." taehyun reassured, his eyes speaking to you that he can be trusted. you sighed, comtemplating on whether you should tell him or not, your head was telling you no, but your heart said otherwise.

"i, i don't think i can ever fall for someone romantically, and even if i did, i don't think i'll be able to commit into a relationship." you admitted, your voice was barely a whisper.

"have you tried it with the right person?" taehyun suggested, his eyes now fixated on the glimmering stars in the sky, you continued to gaze at the ocean, knees proped up to your chin, resting your gead on your knees.

"no."

"then that's the problem i guess." taehyun said non-chalantly. "no, but i've not felt any of those sensations you get when you're in love, like butterflies in your stomach, kicking your feet in bed when they reply you. i want to feel those as well, but it's so hard.. seeing all my friends fall in love is so wholesome and it makes me feel happy for them, but what about me? i'm always falling behind." you complained, plucking the grass beneath. you could feel him staring at you, your eyes darting around the empty field as if you were searching for something. his silence was killing you, you shouldn't have said that, the longer the silence was, the more you felt smaller under his piercing gaze.

"sorry–"

"what are you sorry for?" you smacked taehyun's shoulder for interrupting your apology, "let me finish, i'm sorry for suddenly ranting to you like that."

"you're apologising for that? you're cute." taehyun joked, laughing at you. your face started to heat up, how humiliating, you should have shut your mouth from the first place, but that wasn't the thing that bothered you, rather the fact that he called you cute. why was it that when it came out of his mouth, you feel flustered?

"you're just protecting yourself from hurting yourself, there's no wrong in that. even if it means you barely experience what love feels like, it's better to build up your walls than to go through a heartbreak." taehyun looked into your eyes, before looking at the ocean again.

"but experiencing love is better than never being able to have a shoulder to cry on, or rely on. i just want to find someone to love too." you groaned, hoping that it'll make him understand where you're coming from. as much as you supported your friends with their love lives, you've always wanted to have what they have, but your heart shuts this emotion out.

"then wanna try with me?" taehyun suddenly blurted out, his eyes gazing into your now widened eyes. is he insane, does he want to get heartbroken this badly?

"you're not gonna want to be with me." you mumbled, rubbing your fingers against one another.

"but this is my own decision, let's try it. you've not met the right person to love yet, maybe i can be the one." his hands on top of yours, as if he was reassuring you that it was fine to try out love with him. your heart skipped a beat, what is this? why are you feeling so giddy? your lips tugged upwards, "alright." you agreed to his proposal, making taehyun smile to himself, his thumb playing with your hand.

"you know i've noticed you for some time, i've always thought that you were quite cute and interesting." taehyun admitted, his cheeks flushing a light hue of pink that was barely visible under the moonlight.

"what." your jaw dropped, here you were thinking that no one was into you.

"crazy right?" you nodded your head.

"let's go now, it's getting late, i'll send you home." taehyun quickly stood up, pulling you up together with him, walking back to his car, this time hand in hand.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #kang taehyun #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagine #txt #taehyun imagines #txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun reactions #taehyun fanfic #taehyun

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breeyn · 6 months

Text

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Note

Can I throw in a prompt for the Thursday Night Thots for a ghost/konig/soap x reader (either separate or all 3 together) in an A/B/O universe where they run into the reader who is a new rookie at the base and them slowly realizing that the reader is their mate? Thank youu ❤️

Warning: Alpha/Omega/Beta dynamics ahead. Please don't read if you don't like

You were used to this by now.

Staring up at some hulking, egotistical alpha, their arms crossed, eyes peering down at your smaller form in a way that you knew intimately. Their eyes narrowed with interest, disgust, shoulders tight and a growl ready in their throat as their nostrils flared and they drank in the muted scent of omega.

You’re prepared for your masked lieutenant to snarl at you, demand how you of all people made it onto his taskforce, strip you bare in spirit and leave you for the wolves as he destroys every ounce of courage you scraped and fought for to earn your place here.

What you aren’t ready for, is for the lieutenant to breathe deeply, as if he’s scenting something dripping, heady, warm standing before him. The sound of it ripples through you as he makes no effort to hide it, and there’s no ounce of color in his eyes, pupils fully blown as he stares you down, doesn’t move.

You meet his stare head-on, defiant, a live-wire on the obstacle course you just ran, sweat still dripping down your back, filling the air with your scent. You think maybe he’s getting a rush from it, from the raw dose of pheremones unhampered by the blockers in your system. Maybe he’s one of those sickos that likes omegas on his team with him, under him.

“Hit the showers.” He tells you instead with a jerk of his head, and you blink, furrow your brow, try to understand. Yet you don’t question him, offer a curt ‘Sir.’ and jog in the direction he’s sent you.

You don’t see him breathe in the remainder of your presence, a growl grumbling in his chest as you vanish.

–

It’s…strange after that. You suddenly find yourself within the scopes of three of the officers within the taskforce. They pass you in the hallways, breathe in before you’re gone, rumble something that sounds vaguely like approval in their chests and leaving you lost in their wake.

You come to know them. Ghost, the one who barks when the other recruits stand too close to you, snicker at your omega status. He’s no less soft on you than your comrades, a fact you appreciate, but his eyes watch you differently, tracing every step at a distance like he’s trying to imbue you into his orbit.

There’s his massive friend- the Austrian on loan from some foreign organization. He’s nearby often, drawing close at the line in the mess hall, at the gym, near the firing range. Like he’s trying to rub his scent onto you without touching, trying to warn any others from coming too close. You find it helpful, his massive size warding off the other alphas who get too close, try and touch you until you bite back with snarling teeth and wild eyes. He brings you offerings, little snacks, extra meds, and it feels almost romantic, like he’s trying to court you.

Then there’s Soap, the other omega, the one who does get close. He’s tactile, you learn, wedges himself in beside you and ruffles your hair like he would a pup, bumps his hip with yours, offering you little fist bumps and jeering grins at your laughter from his jokes. You’re looser, softer around him, don’t have your hackles up like the rest of them. You think it’s because he’s like you, but come to realize it’s just him, vibrant like the sun, would sear you with his eyes if you lingered too long.

You don’t know that he brings your scent back with him to his mates, that they drink it in like the nectar of the gods in the absence of you.

You don’t know what to make of it until your heat. You haven’t had one in years, the military standard suppressants enough to ward it off. Yet something has broken through, and you realize too late it’s them. Your chosens. Your mates.

The heat is vicious, tearing through your body, setting your skin ablaze, consuming your world in drunk fever. You don’t even have the mind or strength to try and find them on base, curling in your bunk in the scantly occupied omega quarters and trying to imagine them just by memory.

It’s Konig that finds you, hushes beautiful, sweet German into your ear, gathers you in your blanket to muffle your scent and takes you with him. You curl into his chest with a whimper, a whine of “Alpha-” That has a protective growl echoing forth until it lulls you into stillness.

It’s Soap who is allowed to touch you, who wipes the sweat from your brow and tucks his alphas’ clothes around you, murmuring encouragements to you but never truly touching you, refuses to allow himself no matter how you beg for him and the others. Instead he just holds you, rocks you to sleep as you’re swaddled in one of Simon’s jackets, drinking in the scent and letting the cool relief of him wash over your scorched senses. Yet when you wake on the third day, it’s to three forms curled haphazardly around you, each of them finding some way to keep contact with you. You know you should try and wake them, try and understand how it’s not just one but all of them that fate has tied you to, but in the dewy morning light, with three bodies covering you from all sides, you fall further into sleep, surrendering to both fate, and to them.

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #konig x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #König x reader x ghost x Soap #a/b/o dynamics #thursday night thots #I think this is the first omega/alpha thing I've written?

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nerdofthecentrey · 1 year

Text

For Them | Cha Hyun-Su x Human Reader

Genre: Fluffy, Angsty

Summary: You do what you can to protect others and get hurt in the process.

Warnings: Blood, Getting hurt, monster descriptions, normal Sweet home stuff

Unedited

____________________________

It had been 16 days since this all started, It was terrifying but you wouldn’t lose hope. You wanted to stay alive not necessarily for yourself but to be with Hyun-Su. And for Kim Su-Yeoung and Kim Yeoung-Su the little kids both you’d both saved. You were determined for them to live, even in this cruel world they still deserved a chance.

You stood next to the stairs that lead into the rest of the apartment building. Your boyfriend stood across from you with that faraway look in his eyes.

“ I hate that you have to do this.” You sighed, glancing at the beaten door.

“Don’t.”

You looked back at him and he had this dead serious look in his eyes. You understood this was for the best but you still hate the way they treat him. You wish he wouldn’t take shit from everyone.

“ Gosh, Hyun-Su..I can’t keep letting them treat you like a caged animal. I’m gonna talk to Eun-Hyeok.-“

“ Y/N, Please.” Hyun-Su rested his hand on your shoulder bring you back.

“ I’m sorry, It’s just your doing so much for everyone here…. It’s like they don’t even care. I hate that.” You pause for sec thinking before you continue with, “ It’s okay if your hurt by this Hyun-Su. Your aloud to be upset-“

“ I have to go.” He cut you off in a quiet tone ready to retreat. You snatch his face back before he can go placing your lips on his gently. Warmth fills you and you savor the feeling. You never know when it may be the last time.

You headed into the daycare center not expecting to see Eun-Hyeok. It looked like he had just gotten finished talking because everyone was dead silent. He walked straight pass you out the door you followed. But before you could even say anything he spoke.

“ The answer is no.”

You suck your teeth, “ You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

He turned.

“ I’m guessing it’s about Hyun-Su. My answer is no.” with that he walked away. You let out sharp sigh. You‘ll get him eventually just not now.

“ Y/N..?” A small voice spoke in almost a whisper. It was Yeong-Su. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his sister stood close behind him.

“ What’s up?” I asked a little worried.

“ Umm…” The little boy started his sister finished.

“ He wants you to come with us to get his toy. He lost it when we first got here. It’s on this floor. We just don’t want to get lost.”

Your heart warmed a little at the fact they were asking you and not someone else.

“ Of course, Shall we?” You held out your hand to the boy he toke it with a grin.

You all walked through the halls of the first floor. It’s only now you really understand how much a maze this building is. It makes your stomach turn a little at how many people actually lived here. Meaning how many lost their lives and how many turned. You guys had been walking for a little while before you could resist asking the boy.

“ Are we headed the right way?” He noded slowly showing you clear as day he was unsure.

“ Do you remember exactly where you lost it?”

“ No..” It sounded like he was gonna cry.

“ Yeong-Su!” His sister shouted forcefully pushing his hand out of his. “ You said you knew!”

“ I did know! … I thought I did.” He shouted back.

“ Hey.” You said sharply catching both of their attention. “ It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna find the toy either way. Let’s think of it like a mission okay?”

“ People who are working together shouldn’t argue and pointlessly yell at each-other. Deep breath.” You you inhale as did they. You exhale as did they. “ Now, Yeong-Su. Do you remember the area of where you left your toy?”

“ Yes, there was dirt it was in the hallway near the graves. It rolled into a room.”

“ That’s Good! I’m sure we’ll find it no time!” Before you can continue something goes off in your body. The atmosphere sudden tilting.

A bucket loudly crashed from the hall in front of you.

You push the kids behind you, cursing at yourself for not bringing a weapon. How are you constantly telling other to be prepared for anything and you aren’t even prepared. You look around for anything to use and find a short pole.

Just then you could see the shadow of a monster creeping up the hall. It’s tall and lengthy. You push the kids back the opposite way of the hall. Pushing them to run.

You knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to make loud noises but you weren’t far from everyone else. You wanted them to be safe as soon as possible being in the hallway was too vulnerable.

Just then the monster let out a loud screeching noises. You turn back just in time to see it round the corner, headed straight at you.

“ Run!” You shout. The kids pick up the pase sobs coming Yeong-Su and Su-Yeong pulling her brother along with all her might.

You grab a random cabinet pulling it down pushing multiple things in the way. It seems to slow the monster long enough for you to make back to the main area near the elevator.

Thud!

Yeong-Su fell to the floor. You quickly swept him up as fast as you.

A whimper come from Su-Yeong. Your head whipped around to see the monster creeping slowly into the room. Your heart was already pounding in your ears, your bones started to fell stif.

“ Go.” You tell them.

“But-“

“ Get the others.”

Su- Yeong didn’t wait she grabbed her brothers arm pulling him along.

You felt your body relax a little when you heard their foots steps getting quieter only for the monster to come bones cracking and stretching out with thin skin covering it. It was sickening to look at. You held up your pole knowing these we’re probably your last moments. But you were okay with that. As long as the others live.

Suddenly one of the arms came flying at you, you swung it away like baseball. Of course it only flew back but so far.

You ran closer to the main entrance leading it father into the hall.

“ Let’s go!” You yelled.

The monster seemed to let out some words you couldn’t understand. Only the word,

“ Family. ” “ I’ll do it for my family.”

The monster croaked sending his arm like tentacle thing towards you. You dodge to your left the tentacle missing you. But the sharp edge of a cabinet not.

You inhale sharply, but you can’t feel anything, not yet at least. Your whole body just feels warm and ready to move. You push yourself up from your spot grabbing onto the wall. You place your hand on your stomach to stop it from bleeding so much you fell the thick liquid coating your hand.

“ My family…my family…” The monster kept saying to itself eyes twitching. Sounding like it was trying to think or remember.

You leaned up against the pole watching the monster,

“ Hey!” A voice shouted a glass bottle was chucked at the monster it screeched in pain as it burst to flames. You jolt back from the heat your body hitting the wall feeling weak as ever. Ji-su rushing to you.

“ Oh my god, that’s a lot of blood.” She states.

“ Thanks a couldn’t tell.” You groan. Just then a loud buzzing sound rang from the door. You knew it was Hyun-Su it kept ringing violently. Till Sang-Wook opened it, you heard your boyfriend rushing down the stairs. Everyone watching the creature burn. His eyes fell on you.

“ Y/N!” He ran to you.

“ Hey.” You croaked.

He stared at you with a lost look on his face Ji-Su held you up. He had his lips parted as if he wanted to speak but he didn’t know what to say.

“ Maybe you should help!” Ji-Su shouted at him.

“ Right.” Hyun-Su said. “ I’m gonna lift you. It’s easier okay.”

He carried you to the room where Yu-ri works in. She patched you up carefully, Meanwhile you tried hard not to curse. While Hyun-Su stared with his lost eyes.

Once Yu-ri left you spoke.

“ Don’t keep looking like that.” You tell him.

“ What?”

You pause for second your heartbreaks a little, “ You look so lost. Why don’t you just share what your thinking?” Hyun-Su looks taken back but you go on.“ Hyun-Su, I won’t judge you for how you feel. I want you to tell me not keep it bottled up inside. Out of all the people still left in this word I won’t be the one to judge you.”

You watch a tear slowly falls down his face, you reach up brushing it away softly. He grabs your hand pushing your palm against his face. It’s like he said it all in that moment. More of his tears fall for the first time it’s like a wall had fallen down slowly. You watch him breakdown right in front of you. It hurt you to see. You pull his head down to rest between your neck and shoulders. Massaging his head gently.

“ I’m here, Hyun-Su.”

——————————————————————

A/N: Okay this is my first time writing anything that has so many parts to contribute in and my first Kdrama. Hopefully this is good. I might end up switching or adding more the ending. Let me know if you have any tips and/or misspellings.

#kdrama #kdrama x reader #sweet home fanfic #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su #cha hyun soo #cha hyun su x reader #Cha Hyun soo x reader #sweet home #fluff #angst #Sweet home Angst #Sweet home fluff

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raygirlramblings · 6 months

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I just realised something about Laserhawk Rayman which I've been saying about Rayman for DECADES.

So what is Rayman's defining goal which powers him throughout all his games? It's gonna sound corny, but it's FRIENDSHIP.

And you'll say 'oh that's not uncommon, most videogame protags do stuff for the sake of their friends', but it's kinda more than that.

Rayman LIVES AND BREATHES through the love and support of his friends.

Rayman is a strange little freak guy, one of a kind even amongst his own species*, and instead of being shunned and alone he is held up and supported by his friends and propelled forward by the power of friendship. This is more of a driving force in his life than a romantic interest, a prized possession, or any kind of praise.

(*I still use the logic of Rayman 1 that other limbless beings like Rayman exist but were not created by magic. Hence why Rayman has immortality)

On the surface you have his friendship with Globox as a clear example of his devotion. Despite their differences the two are like brothers and bond through various games in different ways. saving and being saved by Globox is a big part of Rayman 2. Curing Globox of Andre is literally the driving force of Rayman 3.

When Rayman is trapped by the pirates at the start of Rayman 2 he is absolutely distraught, powerless and unable to escape on his own. Without Globox risking his life on the vague chance he'd get put in a cell near Rayman to give him a silver lum, Rayman might never have escaped the Buccaneer. Rayman's friendship with Globox trumped Globox's absolute fear of the pirates.

Rayman's friends are always the ones giving him support and gifts and powers to help him save the day, not in a 'you suck lets hold your hand as you go through the game' way but in a 'we have absolute faith in you, friend, anything we can do to help we will!' way. And in turn Rayman returns that love through his actions and compassion. Rayman is who he is because of the love and acceptance of his friends. Hence why he is always seen relaxing with them, chilling with Globox and Barbara and Murfy and the Teensies.

And it's Rayman's willingness to befriend others and turn the other cheek that betters him overall. Mosquito, Inspector Grub, the Rabbids, they have all been part of his journey despite being antagonistic to him at the start.

When Rayman is separated from his friends, or unable to make new friendships, he kinda falls apart and struggles by himself. He gets lonely, realises how small he is in the world. If he doesn't have a focus to find his friends and help them he is lost.

Which makes perfect sense when you see a version of him in Laserhawk.

Rayman is the most popular mascot in Eden but HE DOESN'T HAVE FRIENDS.

The closest connection he has is to the Counsel who run Eden and even they keep him at arm's length from what we see in the show. They are not his friends, they are his abusive, neglectful bosses that dropped him the minute he stepped out of line, and without them Rayman has NO ONE ELSE in the city he can rely on.

No wonder he's a complete mess even before the show starts. He has no one to confide his fears in, no one who understands his unique perspective. He probably has yes-men and people willing to lie about how great he is, not to mention adoring viewers and a whole fanclub of kids, but even Rayman knows that's fake. They are not his real friends. He's the picture of the lonely celebrity in an ivory tower.

You can see it in Rayman's face when he meets Bullfrog, and Bullfrog VALIDATES his feelings of betrayal and anger against Red and the Counsel. Finally he has someone showing him genuine compassion but also not mollycoddling him. Someone who is honest with him and not freaked out by/judgemental of how he looks. He's scared and angry, but there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel before him.

This and being replaced by Eden is the breaking point that causes Ray to become Ramon and fight back. He now has an end goal, take revenge on the Counsel and save Bullfrog from the electric chair. He has multiple reasons for doing this ranging from his belief in protecting hybrids in general to protecting his image to taking away some of Eden's power at gunpoint...but I also like to think he did it because he put his faith in Bullfrog.

Because as well as being one of the only people in Eden who might have an idea of what's going on behind the veil, he's probably the only person Rayman could consider a friend.

#captain laserhawk #Rayman #Ramon #raygirl's ramblings

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madeinnaboo · 6 months

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His master pt.2 | Anakin Skywalker

aaa thank you so so much for all the nice comments and msgs! I can't even express how happy I am you guys like what I write:`)

part one.

words: 2.8k warnings: sub! anakin, praising, unprotected sex, nicknames, smut, dom! reader,

requests are open:)

!this is my secondary blog, I can't answer comments, please msg me in my inbox or private msgs:)!

,,Master, is everything okay?" The voice of your padawn has stopped you in your tracks. You turned around to see him leaning against the marble wall.

,,Have you been waiting here the whole time?" You asked, trying not to sound annoyed. You weren't upset at him, but you were scared he might think so.

,,I heard you arguing" He ignored your question as he took a step closer to you. With a deep panic inside of you, you took a step back and looked around to make sure no one was there.

,,Let's talk somewhere else, please" You practically begged him, and with a quick nod, he followed you. The final destination was your room, since it was very far away from everything and everyone. The walk was quiet as you went through what happened a couple of minutes ago with the Jedi Council. On your last mission with Anakin, a mother with an injured child asked if you could provide a safe shelter for them and a couple more people on Coruscant. Your heart ached for them, and you promised you'd help them. After arriving back from the mission, you called for an emergency meeting, fully believing the council would help. Helping everyone was what the Jedi fought for, right? You couldn't believe your ears when everyone voted for not helping the people. Apparently it was too dangerous, and it would cross some sort of deal with the oppressors of the people. After a long fight with them, you had to back away due to a very carefully placed threat against you and your position in the council. With a quick lie that you understood, you left the room, knowing very well that you'd be calling someone to go get the people and hide them on some remote planet.

,,Now it's you who's lost in their thoughts, master" Anakin broke the silence after following you into your room. You looked up at him and gave him a tired smile. The two of you haven't talked about what happened between you the other day. You tried very hard not to even think about it.

You sat down on your bed and gestured Anakin to sit next to you. With no hesitation, he sat down, studying your worried face. You then took some time to tell him about the situation, carefully explaining the mess. When you were done, Anakin looked even more upset than you, which made you relax a little bit, knowing you weren't overreacting.

,,What are we going to do?" He asked, almost ready to go fight the council himself. You grabbed his hand, gently caressing the top of it. A feeling you've been trying to hide from him for so long fully filled your whole body.

,,You..." you implied ,,...are not going to do anything Anakin" You said with a serious voice, trying to ignore the fact that you fully accepted how deeply you cared about your padawn. Anakin looked more than confused.

,,But-" He started, and you stood up, turning to face him.

,,But nothing. I am not going to risk the council expelling you and ruining your life, Anakin. If they ever find out... you had nothing to do with it, that's an order. Understand?" You said as images of the council punishing Anakin filled your mind. You couldn't let that happen. He was quiet, looking at you.

,,Understand?" You tilted your head, sounding maybe a bit too harsh. He stood up before walking to you.

,,I understand, master" He whispered as his eyes traveled down to your lips. Both of you knowing that was a lie. He reached down to you, planning on kissing you, but you quickly stopped it by turning around.

,,I am going to call one of my friends about this plan" You told him before hurrying out of the room. It was absurd, you were trying to protect him from getting into this mess while literally putting him into even more danger by allowing him to feel something towards you. You wanted to scream and cry, but instead you headed to your office. Where you spent over 5 hours going over the plan again and again, making sure it was perfect. There was a lot on the line. Your childhood friend, whom you haven't seen for years, was more than happy to help you save a couple of lives. He agreed to take all the people to his home planet, where he would get them a job on his farm and pay them well. It was the best you could do on such a short notice, and you found yourself thanking him repeatedly for the whole duration of the call. You gave him the coordinates where he would find their village and told him to tell them you had sent him. The last thing before the call ended was him promising to let you know as soon as they would be safe. You sat in your chair for another couple of minutes before getting up and heading back to your room. The hall was lit since it was already very dark outside. You entered your room just to see Anakin sitting on your bed. You let out a groan as you closed the door behind you.

,,What are you doing here, Anakin?" You asked him before walking to your mirror. Your hair has been in a tight ponytail for just too long now.

,,You didn't dismiss me, master," he said, looking at you in the mirror. You furrowed your brows as you turned around to look at him. A smirk grew across his lips.

,,I am joking, I wanted to make sure you were okay...emotionally" He said as he walked to you. You quickly shifted your gaze back to yourself as you loosened the ponytail, letting your hair freely fall down your back. Anakin was standing just a few inches away from you.

,,I like when you have your hair like this" He said quietly before placing a wet kiss on your neck. The room quickly became airless, and you closed your eyes.

,,Anakin" You said with a warning tone, without actually doing anything to stop him. His hands grabbed your hips as he continued to kiss the side of your neck from behind. You finally gave in and rested your body against his. His kisses went from your neck to your shoulder, where he gently bit you. His hands on your hips made you turn around. You looked up at him as you placed your hands on his chest.

,,Can I kiss you?`` He asked, his cheeks completely red. He looked so adorable. His eyes were glued to your lips, and you just simply nodded. With no more hesitation, he broke the distance between you, kissing your lips. The kiss was needy and sloppy. It was clear it was his first time kissing someone, and you felt your knees wobble. His large hands cupped your face, and you deepened the kiss, sort of taking the lead again. Your hands traveled across his clothed chest, feeling his muscles. You pressed into his chest to make him walk backward while still making out with him. When his legs hit your bed, he sat down, clearly upset he had to stop kissing you. His hands needily went to your hips. You were quiet as you watched him for a moment. His face became even more red. He then watched as your hands went to the bow on your shirt that was holding it together. With a quick motion, you untied it, letting the shirt fall open before fully removing it from your upper body. Anakin's eyes widened as he was met with your breasts. While he was busy staring at your bare chest, you removed your pants. You were now almost fully naked in front of him, surprisingly not feeling shy at all. Clearly, that was an emotion only he felt—probably enough for the both of you. With a smirk, you tilted your head at him, showing him you didn't like the fact he was still fully clothed. With almost inhumane speed, he pulled his long black shirt over his head before removing his loose pants. His hands then started to grab his underwear, but you shook his head, making him stop.

,,Leave yours on" You ordered, and with a gulp, he nodded. Then you reached for his hands, guiding them to the last piece of clothing on your body. Once they were on the soft fabric, you let go of him. His breathing was heavy as he looked up at you before looking down at your panties again. Almost painfully slowly, he pulled them down, and once they were fully down, you stepped out of them, tossing them away with your foot. The way he couldn't control where he was looking made you smile. You reached to cup his face before making out with him again. Then you got on top of him, placing both your legs on his sides and holding yourself up so you wouldn't yet fully sit on him. His upper body laid down on your bed. You had full control over the make out as his hands went once again to your hips. Before they could reach any lower, you broke the kiss, looking at him with a smirk. You finally lowered yourself onto him, teasing his hard cock over his underwear with your pussy. His eyes shot closed as his fingers dug into your skin. You bit your lower lip at the sight of him under you before slowly rocking your hips on his cock. You teased him like that for a short moment before a needy whine escaped his lips.

,,What's wrong, pretty boy?" You teased him as your hands danced on his chest. He opened his eyes to look at you. He looked almost in pain.

,,Master..." He said shyly, and you tilted your head. You continued rocking your hips, waiting for him to speak. He was too shy to tell you what he wanted, and he hoped you would just do it. But where's the fun in that?

,,Tell me what you want" You ordered before reaching to hiss his abs, which made you lift your lower body, taking away the pleasure you were causing him. With a disagreeing moan, he made you stop kissing his body.

,,I want- I want you to make me feel good, master" He said before he closed his eyes with embarrassment. You purred your lips at how cute he was.

,,And how would you want me to do that?" You teased, enjoying his suffering maybe a bit too much. He whined again, but you just waited, not touching him anywhere. He fought so hard to tell you.

,,I want you to r-ride me, please" He said quickly, and a smile took over your whole face. You were so proud of him, ready to reward him for being such a good boy.

,,Since you asked so nicely" You responded, before lowering his underwear and freeing his cock. After that, you sat on it again, wetting it with your wet folds. You weren't doing anything too crazy, and he was already a moaning mess. You were planning on playing with him like this for longer, but you felt your own neediness taking over. After that, you lifted yourself up on your knees while grabbing his cock. You lined his tip with your hole before slowly pushing yourself down again. You stopped moving when his tip was inside of you, making sure everything was okay and nothing hurt him. His fingers were still digging into your hips, but you knew that was because of the pleasure he was feeling. His thigh muscles were flexed as his eyes were closed. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and you weren't even fully sitting on him. After a while of you not moving, his hands pushed you lower on his cock, which made you moan unexpectedly, causing him to moan as well. You then fully sat down on him, throwing your head back. His cock was buried deep inside of you, stretching you out nicely.

,,You feel so good" He whispered with his eyes still closed. You moaned at his comment, focusing on steadying your breathing. Your hands then found his on your hips, and you grabbed them before lifting yourself up on his cock. You shifted your body weight onto his arms before you started to actually ride him. You started slowly before adding speed.

His eyebrows were scrunched together, and you slowed down a bit. ,,Are you okay?" You asked, worrying, but he quickly nodded his head, lifting his hips, pushing his cock back inside of you. You closed your eyes as you sped up again, fucking yourself on him. You fought hard to keep your eyes open, wanting or actually needing to see his face. Sweat was building up on his forehead, his chest was moving with his deep breaths, and his bottom lip was stuck in between his teeth. His needy whines filling your room were the nicest sound you've ever heard.

,,M-Master can I ple-please cum inside of you?" He struggled so hard due to the fact that his constant moans didn't allow him to speak.

,,You want me to fuck the cum out of you?" You asked with a husky voice, and he let out almost an animalistic sound. His hips started to meet yours halfway, causing the both of you even more pleasure.

,,Yes, please" He begged, and tears of pleasure filled your eyes as he hit the right spot again and again. He opened his eyes as he felt you shift even more of your body weight onto his arms. Your eyes were closed, and he almost came by looking at you. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this good.

,,Am I doing good?" He whispered, and you didn't bother to open your eyes. You realized how hard it must have been for him to talk, since it was the same for you now.

,,So good" You answered him, and he nodded his head more for himself than you before focusing on thrusting into you. Your hands left his, and instead you put them on his chest, which made you move more freely. You felt your high closing on you, but you pushed it away, wanting him to cum first. That didn't take too long. His muscles tensed even more, and his toes curled up as he came inside of you with loud moans. You slow down a little bit, letting him hold you as hard as he wanted. He looked almost like he was in pain. His breathing was even heavier, but his muscles started to loosen up a bit. After a while, he opened his eyes, and you looked up at him. His eyes then traveled to his cock still inside of you, realizing you haven't came yet. His hands held you in one place as his hips started fucking back into you. A wave of pleasure filling you again.

,,Tell me if it gets too much for you" You told him before another moan took over you, not wanting him to get too overstimulated. He hasn't answered you; instead, he sped up more.

,,Anakin" You cried out as your high made its presence known again. The feeling was building up in your stomach faster and faster every second. Anakin was mesmerized by your face filled with pleasure, and he swore he would do anything to make you feel like this again. Your hands shot to his stomach to hold yourself more as the feeling you'd been chasing exploded deep inside your stomach. Anakin slowed his thrusts as he watched you enjoy your orgasm. Your whole body was filled with unspeakable warmth. Your legs shook as you started to come back to reality. By then, Anakin had stopped moving completely. With a deep breath, you opened your eyes to be met with his. You pushed yourself up on your jelly knees, so you could get down from him. He whined as he no longer felt you around him. Your body hit your soft bed as you laid next to him. He sat up, moving further away from you. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but you stopped as he grabbed your thigh and moved it away from the other one, spreading you out. He then pushed your folds apart, watching his cum slowly spill out of you. The sight made you want to fuck him again right away. He took his time watching your abused pussy before forcing himself to get back to you. He laid next to you, grabbing the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed. Then he placed it over the two of you, and you put your head on his chest. You knew you should go take a shower, but the warmth his body was giving you was just too addicting. His hand hugged you, lovingly pushing you closer to him.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars smut #anakin fic #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker

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littlemochabunni · 7 months

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1-800-TROUBLE

Serial Killer!Suguru Geto x Bimbo!Fem reader

Content: 18+ MDNI!!! Serial killer Geto, Bimbo bunny girl reader, fuckboy victims, blood and homicide mention, implied roofing, knife play, deepthroat, degrading (slut, whore) + praise kink (princess, baby sweetheart, love), daddy kink, Multiple O’s, & Creampie

A/N: Ahhh sorry for the delay my sweet freaks, but I did it and I must say holy shit I’m nasty 💀; AND UM HELLO?? THANK YOU FOR 1.1K?!?!? I seriously cannot find the words to describe how happy and grateful I am for each and every one of you <3. I love you and enjoooy 🖤

wc: 3.7k

On your way home from a party you take a few wrong turns, and when you try to call your…. Overprotective boyfriend your phone dies before you get the chance to tell him the cross streets, you’re at. With it being late on Halloween night, most of the house porch lights are off your feet continue to carry you down this foreign neighborhood until you hope to see someone could help you. Tears begin to sting your eyes with each street corner you turn, and the nip fall air strips you of any warmth from your cropped puffer jacket Suguru made you wear before you left. You definitely wish you listened when he warned you repeatedly to charge your phone too…

Police sirens are blaring in the far distance from where you originally started which means only one thing… “One of the officers can take me home!” Right…

Trying to follow the sounds to guide you out of the maze of houses you’re lost in. You find a group of men sitting in an open garage, drinking with the tv on in the background. Although you know Suguru told you not to talk to strangers especially when they’re drunk, what other people were around that could possibly help you?

“Excuse me? Hi, I’m like super lost…Can I borrow your phone or a charger please?” Every one of their eyes grazes over your body before meeting your eyes, and of course the man that looks spot on for a Chad speaks up first, “Ooo a sweet bunny girl like you all alone? Need me to come warm you up?” You glance around the garage spotting the space heater near the couch he’s sitting on and a bright smile appears on your face. “It would be nice to get out of the cold while I charge my phone!” You happily skipping inside the garage to sit near the heater and immediately feel so much better now that you're off your feet… Little did you know that with this little interaction…. you won’t be back on your feet anytime soon.

All eyes are on you and you're like an innocent hare unaware of the foxes preying in the tall grass.

“So, you gotta a name sweetheart?” Asked the store-brand version of Derek Shepherd. “Uhh I’m a bunny, duhh?” The men all blink at you before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You don’t understand how that was hilarious, but you’ll take it as a compliment. “Funny and cute… But seriously what’s your real name?”

Hearing that emergency number Suguru always tells you to remember if you're lost coming from the braking news announcement about some house party incident. You focus on the tv and ignore Chad’s questions, “Hey can you turn the tv up? I think I know that number.” The extra quiet man, who remains you of your friend's creepy uncle Lester, turns up the tv and it retells the gruesome murders of the house party that just occurred half an hour ago….

“The next image we show may disturb some viewers…”

Grumbles and tsk scatter among the men around you as they get a glance at the gruesome writings on the wall. You squint your eyes as you notice a similar stamp Suguru uses when he writes you love letters…. Your stomach drops at the thought of someone else using that beautiful stamp for something so… horrifying.

“This message along with a description of the women and the phone number were left at the scene of the crime…” The woman proceeded to describe you from the hair on your head to the holographic boots you’re wearing. The men in the garage are too drunk to realize that you’re exactly what the killer wants, “Please if anyone has any information regarding this woman… please call: 1 (800) 876-8253… That’s 1-800-……TROUBLE… Again, that number is 1-800-876-8253…”

You begin to feel guilty about making Suguru so worried about you that he had to go to the local news to find out where you were. Tears fill your eyes as you quickly try to turn on your phone only to realize that you forgot to plug it in, “Sorry um… I really need to call that number. Can I use one of your phones please?” Chad looks towards you smirking smugly, “Oh sweetness, I’ll let you use my phone only if you put your number in it too.” Your teary eyes brighten as your request is going to be made possible, “Oh thank you soo much.”

Chad hands you his unlocked phone and you begin dialing the number with a bright smile on your face as it rings, “I hope he answers... I know he's so worried.” You don’t notice how Chad’s smirk fades nor the other two men grumbling about how long it’s been since either of them have gotten laid... As you mention a ‘he’ Chad scoffs as soon as the phone is answered, “You got some fucking nerve to be using my phone to talk to another dude… you fuckin’ tease.” You pout as Chad lets his blue balls speak for him and off brand Derek Shepherd snorts as he turns the tv off, watching every unfold between the two of you, “Hold on kay’? You don’t have to be so mean...” You hear heavy breathing on the other side of the phone which pulls your attention back towards your initial plan, “Um Hello? I’m the woman that the lady was talking about on TV? Daddy told me to call this number if I got lost? H-Hello?” A familiar growl is heard before a distorted voice rings through your ear, “Where are you.” The rough demanding voice sends tingles down your spine and your frown quickly turns into a smile of relief that you’ll be able to get home safely. “Uhh let me ask them real quick,” You look between store-brand Derek and Chad like you’re so close to winning the lottery, “Uh what’s the address?” Derek gives you uneasy smile before looking away and Chad holds his hand out asking for his phone back, assuming you thought he’s going to tell the person the address for you. “Oh, he’s gonna tell you for me, here ya go!” As you pass the phone back to Chad, and he gets up and walks into the house...

“Ay don’t bother coming to get the girl or calling this number back. She’s gonna be too busy taking my dick.” Chad says boastfully, “The only dick she’s takes is mine.” The distorted voice says darkly. “Ha not tonight big guy. You can have her back in the morning.” Chad says before ending the conversation…

A few minutes of awkward silence goes by before creepy uncle Lester gets up to shut the garage. Chad comes back to the garage with two beers in hand before handing one over to you and sits back in his spot of the couch, “So did he tell you his way here?” Chad takes a swig of his beer as he glances between Derek and Lester, then gives you tight smiles and nods. “Yeah yeah… might take him a while, so you should get comfortable sweetheart.” With the good news you smile brightly and tap your nails against the glass bottle softly, “You know we never got you name little bunny?” Lester speaks to you for the first time, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He’s too busy undressing what little clothes you had on. “Well neither did you silly! I mean it is Halloween. Do names really matter?” Lester tsk at your response and mutters whatever under his breath as he struggles to open another beer in his drunken state. “Aren’t you gonna drink? Don’t need you wasting our beer and our time.” Chad chimes in with his half full beer in hand, although his words are bitter his tone is sickeningly sweet as if he was speaking to a child.

“Oh! Actually, I don’t drink beer it’s like super gross. You got like a soda or somethin’?” You chuckle as you place the beer on the table. An uncomfortable feeling sets in as the men stare at you. They all exchange looks between each other, but a late night.... An extremely late-night trick or treater knocks at the door before anyone can act or say anything... Derek is the one to get up to answer the door, “Who and the hell let’s their kids out this late...” he grumbles as he walks into the house. Lester grabs your open beer off the table, but Chad warns him not to, “Now now... You shouldn’t drink the lady’s drink. Have some respect dude.” Lester waves him off, but grungily puts your drink back down on the table. “Sooo is that a no to having any soda?” Both men ignore your question and Lester turns the TV back on.

A few minutes go by since Derek went to go answer the door, and just as Chad gets ready to go check the situation, his phone begins to ring with the caller ID being Derek himself, “Dude where the hell did you go?”

“Sorry about your boyfriend, all those muscles didn’t help much.” the distorted voice rings through his ear and chills ran down his spine, and he doesn’t react too kindly to this prank, “Who the hell is this?” Chad spits venomously into the phone. “Why don't you come find out, filthy monkey.” The call ends before he can respond, and Chad being himself isn’t the type to pussy out to any threat... Yet something in the back of his mind is telling him not to go... “Bro let’s go see what’s going on...” Chad taps Lester leg to as he dozes off, “What? Why the hell do I have to go?!” Lester protest, “Don’t be a pussy and get up.” You perk up as they both get up to head inside the house, “Ooo can you get me a soda too!” Lester is the first to head inside the house, and just before Chad follows suit, he turns on his heels towards you with an irritated look, “You’re cute, but dumb as rocks y’know that sweetheart?” You pout and he leaves you in the garage alone.

Ten minutes go by, and a lot of banging and muffled voices are heard from inside the house, but Suguru always tells you not to go digging your nose into other people's business. So, you reach over to grab your phone... which is still dead because the charge itself wasn’t plugged in, “Goddamn it! Guru is definitely pass pissed off by now...” You bend over the back of the couch to plug the charger into the wall.

“Your incompetence never fails you does it Princess?” Suguru’s voice startles you, but his appearance is something straight out of a horror movie alone, “Aww Guru, you scared me! Aww, and you did dress up for Halloween after all! I wish you came to the costume party.” As you ramble on and on, Suguru gives you that same smile he always gives you when you’re so oblivious to the dangerous things around you. He sauntered towards you, luring you deeper into a false sense of security. Not that you would notice any of the rage he was feeling… No, he made sure that you would feel just how angry he was when you’re his good little mindless cock—

“Y/N.” he utters as you continue on about how you wondered about and met the men, he had the pleasure of coming across himself. You’re lost in your own world which isn’t helping you out of the punishment of Suguru’s wrath… only makes it harder and harder for him to fight the need to carve his name into your skin.

“My poor poor little slut. You have no clue how much trouble you are, do you?” You gasp as he grips your hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to strain your neck to look into his darkened eyes, “I-I ‘m sorry you had to go to the news to find me, Guru… I won’t be so... S-so careless next time…” Suguru chuckled humorlessly at your words and his grip tightened causing you to whimper. “It's always next time with you… Next time I tell you to do something you fucking do it. Do you understand that you brainless brat?” You nod slightly which only angers him further, Suguru press the very same blade that took the lives of the people from the party and those disgusting pricks in the next room, “Use your fucking words or I’ll cut that pretty little voice box of yours from your throat.” Tears well up in your eyes as you swallow the fear in your chest, “Y-yes daddy.” you mutter timidly. Suguru’s grip loosens slightly, and he gives you a sadistic smile, “That’s my good girl, now stay very still...” He slowly glides the blade down from your throat to the harness of your costume, you keep your eyes on his as he swiftly cuts the leather fabric like it’s nothing. “You have no idea how many people I’ve killed just for looking at you Princess… How many times have I told you to stay out of trouble, hm?” You look around as you think about each time Suguru has told you and you begin to count each moment on your finger, and he laughs mockingly when you do so. “It’s a rhetorical question, dumb bunny.” You pout confused at his statement. “Soooo was I supposed to repeat the question?” He presses the blade against your cheek with light pressure and he smiles as you stiffen at the sensation, “Let me do all the thinking for you,” Suguru unbuckles his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his throbbing cock from its restraints and you gasp softly at the sight of his cock stands a few inches above your lips, “Open your mouth princess.” without hesitation you open your mouth, relaxing your jaw as he slide his cock down your throat with easy. Pushing your face closer to his pelvis “That’s it princess, just relax don’t think.”

Your eyes roll back as you choke with his thick cock down your throat. You squeeze your thighs together, attempting to gain some sort of friction. Suguru groans out feeling you gag on his cock; he smirks as he glides the blade down the laces holding your corset together cutting away the fabric slowly, causing you to flinch.

You gasp at the stinging sensation when the blade deeper against your skin, “Now did I tell you to move princess?” Suguru scold you as he pulls you off his cock, “I-I’m sorry daddy I just really like this outfit...” He mentally rolls his eyes while caressing your cheek and smiling at you, “Don’t worry about that love. We can always replace materialistic things, but we can’t replace you, so stay still like a good girl.” He brushes he cock against your lips, and you gleefully take his cock down your throat once more.

Gaging and moaning at the feeling, he curses under his breath while gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail pushing his cock deeper down your throat, “Fuuuck baby— such a good little slut. My good little slut, yeah?” He cuts you free of the suffocating corset letting your breasts breathe freely, your eyes water while you look up at him.

That was just what sent him over the edge of holding back, Suguru sets the blade on the couch and grips the back of your head to pull back slightly leaving the tip his cock resting on your tongue, “Take a deep breath f’me sweetheart, time I fuck your throat properly.” Before you could even take in a complete exhale, Suguru shove his cock back down your throat, fucking it relentlessly without any mercy in sight the sounds of his loud groans fill your ears, “Sh-Shit— y-you fucking attention needing slut. You love pissing me off, don’t you? Showing your ass to all those filthy fuckin’ monkeys.” His harsh words leave a pool of excitement dripping down your thighs and the lack of oxygen you dig your nails into his thighs, desperately needing his cock to fill your cunt.

Suguru grunts as you do so and roughly pulls out of your throat, and a long web connects your swollen lips to his tip. You cough roughly whilst finally taking in a deep inhale, “Daddy please? Please fuck me! Can’t wait anymore please? Ple—” Suguru grabs you by the neck pulling you up to your feet, and your bodysuit falls to the floor. He growls into your ear, and more tears fill your eyes as you squeeze your thighs together tightly, “You’re already crying, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Suguru chuckles darkly while caressing your wet cheek, “If you’re this much of a mess just from sucking my cock, I can’t wait to ruin your cunt.” You let out a choked moan as his grip slightly tightens around your throat, “P-Please?” Begging him to ruin you just how he wants... With those wet red eyes, tears-stained cheeks, swollen lips...

Suguru’s grip tightens as he pulls you closer to whisper in your ear, “Bend over now.” He releases his grip and picks up the blade once more. You step out the bodysuit completely, placing your knees on the couch with your ass in the air then lowering your upper body down to rest on your forearms. “All soaked just from sucking me off? Or did those monkeys get my slut excited, huh?” Suguru glides the blunt side of the blade against your thigh and hip while spreading your slick slowly with his fingers. Shuddering at his touch and the blade against your skin, “O-Only you daddy! Can only get this wet from your tou— mmn!” You whimper softly as the tips of his fingers tease your clit, deepening the arch in your and his cock twitches at the sight. “Such an eager little bunny aren’t you sweetheart?” Suguru places his knee on the couch behind you while keeping the other on the floor.

He taunts your cunt with his tip making you wiggle and moan, “Keep. Still.” His icy voice kept you still as a statue and from making another sound all together. You’d forgotten about the blade against your skin all together, too excited for his cock being deep in your guts…. He’s still pissed off and he’s not letting you off that easily…

Without warning he bottoms you out, pushing every atom of oxygen from your lungs, “You really thought I’m gonna fuck you because you deserve a treat? Oh no princess.. I’m taking away your privilege of being able to walk freely without every step remaining you that you.. belong… to me..” Suguru bullies your cervix with a few more deep thrusts before pulling out, giving just a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again and he slips back into your cunt while gripping you hair to keep you from running away. “Su-Su!— D-Daddy! Wa— fuuuck!” His cock keeps your brain from calling out any mercy you think he’ll have on you, without realizing you cum around his cock and only broken words and screams can be heard. Suguru pulls you up from the couch and bites on your neck harshly, marking you in the most mundane way he can. Fighting his sadistic needs, “Don’t try to talk your way out of this now Princess. Remember you begged for this, so take it.” He growls in your ear while dancing the blade up from your hip to your navel. Fear and pleasure overwhelms your senses as he continues to fuck you like he absolutely despises you, and taunts you with the sharp object against your skin. “D-Daddy pleeease! Ah a— ‘m sorry!” You cry out while panting heavily and drool begins falling from your lips, yet Suguru ignores your pleas and opts for you muffled screams instead. “Bite.” He brings the handle of the blade to your lips and without question you bite on the handle, muffling your sounds. Suguru stops his movements all together leaving you to throb around his twitching cock buried inside of you, “So you listen when you want to and not when you need to, is that right y/n? Or is it because I fucked the remaining brain cells you have outta ya, you can’t complain now?” Hearing him say your name your rolled back eyes start to focus, and your breathing becomes heavier as he only speaks your name when you’re in the type of trouble where no one and nothing could save you from him…

“Oh don’t worry precious. I’m not gonna hurt you… You’re gonna feel real good. I can promise you that, but you don’t get to stop cumming on my cock until I say you’ve learned your lesson.” Suguru takes his free hand and grabs both your wrist, placing them behind your back, giving your neck a kiss before thrusting inside your cunt at an animalistic speed. Your mind short circuits causing your eyes to roll back and muffled screams to leave your lips, “S-Shit you like when I fuck you like this, don’t you? You love being my little brainless whore.” Suguru’s words are confirmed when you scream as your second orgasm hits you harder than the last, and your body trembles uncontrollably. Suguru groans as you tighten and cream around his cock, leading him to chase his high and he tightens his grip on your neck, pulling your body back against his like you’re his personal fuck toy. “Be a good doll and milk my cock, yeah? I just might forgive you for the trouble you caused.”

In your fucked out state, you do as you’re told and bounce back on Suguru cock, trying to match his pace. “That’s it princess. That’s it— Fuuck~” Suguru shoots his load deep inside your cunt, triggering another orgasm of your own. Drool runs down your chin as you tremble and moan out, Suguru groans in your ear and takes the blade from your lips to kiss you passionately. “D-Do you f-forgive me daddy?” You croak out as you look at him with heavy eyes. His raven hair brushes against your cheek as he whispers, “Oh.. Oh princess….. Not even a little.”

A/N: Somewhere along the way during my….. research I ended listening to Badjhur annnnd I haven’t been the same since.. But anyways! Thank you so much for reading!!! 🖤

tags: @fuyuaika @ykimobessed @smolbeanzzz @bontensbabygirl @euvwia @etherealmaya @macsimagines @hoshigray @biscuitsngravie @tojisbutterfly @bunz-lover also!!! If you don’t see your tag it’s because tumblr wouldn’t let me 😭😭 I promise I haven’t forgotten about you 🥺🖤

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golden-cherry · 1 year

Text

deal - cl16 (1/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it's his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The best tactic to defend yourself from a stranger? Being dressed only in a towel and having a newspaper in hand, of course.

Warnings: google translated French (I didn't put the translations in the story, but there's a reason to it! maybe you'll figure it out through the series!)

Word Count: 3.1k

series masterlist

A/N: here it is my friends! the first chapter! I'm not sure about tagging people. bad experience and stuff. I still hope you like it! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

The apartment is dead quiet when you get home. Tired, you flick on the kitchen light and toss your gym bag into your small bedroom before grabbing a wine glass from the shelf. You twist the cap off the cheap white wine sitting on the bottom shelf of the small fridge with your teeth, and spit it away. You wouldn't need the cap anymore. You would drink the bottle empty today.

The whole last week had been unbelievably lousy. Your boss had fired you for a mistake you weren't responsible for, and even though you didn't like working there, you were on the money.

A few months ago, you had moved to Monaco for that very job. You left your family behind. Built a new life here. Only to find yourself without a job, without opportunities, without prospects.

You sit down on one of the two chairs at the dining table and open your laptop. Since you were kicked out, the home page of your Internet browser has been searching for suitable job offers, but you haven't found anything yet. You're glad that you've put aside enough money every month to be able to keep this apartment for a few more weeks. And after that, it's either take the next best job, no matter how underpaid it is and no matter how unhappy it would make you, or move back in with your parents.

You'd rather live under a bridge than back with your parents.

Frustrated, you close the laptop. It's hard to find a job in Monaco unless you're already a big shot or born into a good family. And as a former, small-time magazine photographer, you're neither.

You leave the laptop and your sweaty gym clothes in the bedroom as you head to the bathroom for a shower. The warm water feels good on your skin and tense muscles. The lavender shampoo calms your senses and nerves a bit, but you can't flush that nagging lingering thought - what happens if you don't find a new job? - down the drain, unfortunately.

Ideally, you'd like to stay here, in Monaco. Why not? Life here is great and the people are so friendly that you don't even want to think about leaving it all behind. But the possibilities are limited. And time is running against you.

You step out of the shower, wrap your hair and body in soft towels, and walk out of the bathroom.

And just at that moment, the apartment door opens.

"What the hell?"

The young man suddenly standing in the hallway wrenches his eyes open at your words and winces. Apparently, he wasn't expecting anyone either.

"What the heck are you doing in my apartment?" you yell at him, grabbing the nearest object you could use to defend yourself from the intruder. Unfortunately, it's just a magazine from your old job. You roll it up and point it at him.

"In your apartment?" he asks, confused, dropping the large bag hanging around his shoulder to the floor. He doesn't take his eyes off you. It's like you're the crazy one standing in his apartment all of a sudden. "What do you mean?" He raises his hands placatingly as you take a small step toward him on bare feet with the newspaper.

"Are you stupid? What don't you understand about 'my apartment'?" Your voice sounds a little shrill. You roll the newspaper up tighter in your hands. Not that you can particularly do anything about the man. Just wrapped in a towel and with that little bit of paper. Besides, he's at least a whole head taller. And definitely stronger, judging by his stature.

The young man lowers his hand to let it disappear into his left pants pocket. You wave your arms behind your head - like Rapunzel with her frying pan. If he tried anything, you'd have enough momentum to maybe hurt him.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." He fishes something out of his back pocket and holds it up. Dangling from his finger is a jingling silver key. "This is my key. For my apartment. The one I bought." He enunciates each word one at a time, as if you're a child who must somehow be made to understand why two plus two does not equal five. Step by step.

You narrow your eyes. The newspaper stays in place behind your head. "I rented the apartment. A few months ago." You shift your feet apart a little to get a firmer footing. "If it really is your apartment, where have you been for the last few months?"

Confused, he looks at you as if you must know where he'd been. Then he rubs his forehead with his free hand. "Can I sit down? My day has been incredibly tiring and I'm exhausted." He takes a step toward the dining room table, where your wine glass still sits.

"If you take one more step, I'm going to scream."

He rolls his eyes, but stops anyway. "I'm too tired for this shit," he retorts, annoyed, running a hand through his brown hair. "This is my place. I don't know how you got in here or who's supposed to have rented it to you, but you pack your shit now and get out. Before I call the police."

"Why do you want to call the police? You're standing in my apartment!"

"This is not your apartment!"

Like two lions about to go for each other's throats, you stare at each other.

"You leave my apartment now before I call Joris and he throws you out," you threaten him. When he starts in with the cops, you continue with your landlord. If suddenly the cops are in your apartment, he would be informed either way. At least then you could give him a heads up if he really did call the cops.

Apparently your words triggered something in him, because he lowers his arms and his shoulders relax a little. "Joris? Joris Trouche?"

The fact that he knows your landlord's last name unnerves you enough that you lower your arms as well. The newspaper, however, you still hold in one hand. "How do you know Joris?"

The man no longer looks annoyed, but seriously confused. "Joris is one of my closest friends," he explains. "I bought the apartment in his name. Did he rent it to you?"

Friends? Bought it in his name?

"He did. A few months ago," you answer him. You're not facing each other like lions now, but rather like two deer who don't know exactly how to act. You chew on your lower lip, undecided about what to do.

"I'll call him." As the man pulls his cell phone from his back pants pocket, you can only stare at him in disbelief. If his Joris is really your Joris - what happens next? If he bought the apartment, will you have to move out? You have a valid rental contract. Will it be terminated then? Will you have to move under the next best bridge sooner than expected? Does Monte Carlo have any bridges?

"Good evening, Joris." You didn't even notice that he had already dialed the number. He's not holding the phone to his ear, but in front of his mouth, and you can see he's activated the speaker.

"Hi, buddy. Did you have a good flight?", Joris voice actually rings out.

Your heart stops for a moment and the newspaper falls out of your hand. The man takes one look at the paper and then at your face. "I did, thanks." He licks his lower lip once with his tongue. "I just arrived at my apartment. You know, my second apartment. The one that's in your name."

On the other side of the phone, it's suspiciously quiet. As if transfixed, you stare at the cell phone in his hand, hoping it's all a big mistake. That this already shitty week isn't about to get even shittier.

"I can explain." Fuck.

While Joris explains to his "buddy" what's going on - "I had rented out the apartment so that it wouldn't get miserably dusty. Besides, it would be completely stupid not to rent out a great apartment and let the money slip through your fingers. I couldn't have known you'd go there. I thought the apartment was only for emergencies." - you sit down at the dining table, still wrapped in your towel, and drink the rest of your wine in one go.

"C'est une urgence!" The man turns off the speaker and holds the phone to his ear. "Je ne peux pas et ne veux pas aller dans l'autre appartement! Tu sais pourquoi! Et maintenant, tu loues ma retraite sans m'en parler? Qu'est-ce que je vais faire maintenant, Joris?" His French is too fast for you to understand in the least. Judging by the wild flailing of his hand, he can't be saying anything good. He raises his hand, touches his thumb to his other fingertips, then holds it to his forehead. His face is flushed as he nags stressedly into the receiver, and you can even see the vein on his neck. "Je ne vais certainement pas à l'hôtel! Comme "pourquoi pas"? Parce que j'ai une résidence secondaire, espèce de crétin! Je peux difficilement l'expulser maintenant de l'appartment que tu lui as loué! Alors je suis le connard qui a jeté une jeune femme à la rue! Comment crois-tu que le gros titres vont suivre?"

While you understand a few words like hotel, idiot, woman - almost certainly meaning you - and headlines, your French is not so good, even after months in Monaco, that you could easily understand him.

"Je me fiche qu'elle soit sexy. Tu ne peux quand même pas laisser quelqu'un vivre dans mon appartement!" He puts his thumb and forefinger to his nose bone. "I'm really too tired for this, Joris. We'll talk tomorrow," he ends the conversation back in English and sits down in the chair across from you. He places the cell phone on the table before drumming his fingertips on the tabletop. "We'll summarize. You have a valid lease on my apartment. I have nowhere else to go. So I have to stay here. What's the plan?" He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

You stare at him. "I should put some clothes on first." Wordlessly, you get up and disappear into the bedroom before he can say anything back. You quickly change, slipping into a dark green Adidas sweater and comfortable yoga pants, and quickly comb your hair. When you leave the room, the man is no longer sitting at the table, but stands in the small kitchen and - cooks?

"I haven't eaten anything today," the man says without glancing in your direction. "And you still had some stuff in the fridge."

You reach for the wine bottle and pour some more into the glass before taking a big gulp. "And you think you could just grab my groceries and cook yourself something?" you ask snarkily. He acts like he's at home. Like this is his apartment.

Well, it is, in theory.

"I'm making two servings. For you and for me. I'm not a monster." He glances at you out of the corner of his eye as you lean against the fridge to watch him. "Maybe we should start over. Completely new." He turns the piece of chicken in the pan. "What's your name?"

"Y/N" You tilt your head. "And you?"

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion before giving the noodles in the pot a single stir. But as suddenly as the confusion was on his face, it's gone just as quickly. "Charles."

Sharl. The French pronunciation of Charles. And you have to admit, it suits him. As he cooks, you watch him, racking your brains on how to proceed now.

The apartment is small, but living with two people in it could work. One would sleep in the bed, the other on the couch. There would have to be a bathroom plan. And a cleaning schedule. And-

"Can you pour me a drink, too, please?" asks Charles, spreading the food on two plates. He sets them on the table and pulls two forks out of a drawer.

"What would you like? Wine?" When he nods, you take a second wine glass and pour him the last of your wine. As he sits down, you look at him skeptically.

Charles raises his eyebrows. "What is it?"

You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "That's my seat."

"Well, there's another chair. Why don't you take that one?"

Uncertainly, you teeter from one foot to the other. You don't want to seem like a crazy person, but in the few months you've lived here, you've always sat in the same chair. You want to keep it that way.

When you don't move, he rolls his eyes, but then sits down in the chair across from you. "Better?"

His food tastes better than expected. To be honest, it tastes better than anything you've ever cooked. But you don't tell him that, of course.

"I don't know how much you overheard of my conversation with Joris" - you overheard everything, you just didn't understand anything - "but I'm afraid I have nowhere else to go. Personal reasons." He pokes at his chicken for a moment. "And I don't want to put you out on the street, either, of course. I can't at all. After all, you have a valid lease and I can't just kick you out, even if it is my apartment." He looks up from his food and looks at you. His eyes are an impossibly beautiful green.

"What do you say we live here together? Just until my situation eases up," he suggests. Before you can say anything, he continues speaking. "I know the apartment is small and there's only one bed, but if we agree on cleaning and shopping and everything, I'm sure we can work it out."

There's a sparkle in his eye. You'd like to know why he can't go to his other apartment. Why he can't go to a hotel. Why he absolutely has to go to his second apartment. But he said himself it was an emergency. And you've known each other for what? An hour? Even if you asked, he certainly wouldn't tell you.

Private is private.

And maybe it's not permanent. True, you could say on your own that you could go to a hotel, but on what money? For sure you could negotiate with Joris. You move out and stop paying rent. But what if you happen to find a job after all? Then you'd have to look for a new apartment again, because hotels in Monaco aren't exactly cheap. And you certainly won't get a cheaper apartment than this one.

"All right."

Charles doesn't seem particularly surprised, but relieved nonetheless. More like his suggestion wasn't a suggestion, but a fact you'd have to agree to. Which makes you very uneasy.

Maybe he's the kind of guy who takes advantage of his looks to trick young women like you and then murder them in their sleep. Or maybe he'll drug you and sell you to the nearest human trafficker. Or-

"Then maybe we should talk about the sleeping arrangement." He takes a sip of wine and screws up his face. "I thought this was dry wine."

"Dry wine is gross."

Charles exhales audibly. "That's debatable. Whatever." He puts the glass back, but a little farther away than you had put it earlier. "You can sleep in the bed for all I care. I'll sleep on the couch. It shouldn't be that uncomfortable. Except - if it's okay with you - sometimes I'd like to sleep in the bedroom to save my back." His offer sounds reasonable. Once you fell asleep on the couch from fatigue. You could have saved yourself the backache the next day.

"No problem." You smile kindly at him. "Thanks. For letting me have the bed, I mean." And for not kicking me out.

He nods before standing up, taking the two empty plates and placing them in the sink. Charles turns around, hands braced on the ledge behind him. "We can wash this tomorrow, if you like. I'm too tired for that now. And you don't seem like you're particularly up for it right now, either."

He's right. Although your fingers are itching to wash the dishes and put everything in its place, you're so exhausted from the day and the terror of suddenly having a stranger in your apartment that you could fall asleep standing up. So you just nod.

"I'll just go brush my teeth. Then you can go to the bathroom."

Charles sticks his thumb up before you disappear into the bathroom and quickly get ready for bed. Thank goodness you cleaned the whole apartment yesterday, so you don't have to worry about things lying around or dirt.

As you exit the bathroom, Charles is settling into the couch. "I grabbed the second set of bedding from the closet in the hallway. You certainly don't need that, do you?" he asks. You shake your head. "Great. I sleep without an alarm clock until 9 most nights. So would be great if you could keep it down until then. The walls aren't very thick, I'm afraid." He spreads out the comforter while you stand in the room, still unsure, watching him. "Do you have to go to work tomorrow? No? Great. Then we can talk about the rest tomorrow. About cleaning and stuff. We'll figure it out." His smile is almost infectious as he pushes past you to go to the bathroom. "Good night, Y/N."

Just before he closes the bathroom door behind him, you see him pull his shirt over his head and his back muscles move under his tanned skin.

Just at that moment, your cell phone rings. Without looking to see who's calling, you push the caller away. There is only one person who could be calling at such a late hour. And you definitely don't want to talk to that person.

A few minutes later, you're lying in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin and the door locked for safety - you never know - and you're racking your brains about what needs to be sorted out tomorrow. And whether the whole thing might not have been a stupid idea after all.

Living with a complete stranger? Who could possibly kill you in the night? Or worse - could put you out on the street from one moment to the next?

You turn on your side, one hand tucked under your cheek, the other between your knees.

Maybe Charles is nice enough and living together works out great. Maybe you'll even become friends. Anything is possible.

And apart from that - you don't have any other choice.

Neither of you can go anywhere else. You both need this apartment.

That you both also need each other, you don't know at this point.

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