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0oolookitsme · 2 months

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Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

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With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all.

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard.

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone.

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal.

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there.

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap.

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping.

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief.

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze.

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

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I can’t lose you // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

Summary: Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

Requested by: @tinkerbellasstuff (thank you so much for the request!)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, dom/sub, hostage, threats of violence, angst, fluff, hurt, size difference, double penetration, protective steve/bucky, anal and vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise kink, begging, subspace, pet names, not beta read

Word: 5.6k

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“You know, this feels more like a treat for the both of you rather than me”, you explained watching Steve and Bucky skim through the dresses on the rack around the store and pile their favourites in front of you. Dating the leader of the Rogers mafia had its perks, Steve knowing all the right people had managed to book out the entire store for you to look and purchase anything that you wanted, something he liked to do on occasions to treat you. However, you always hated spending his money, the situation almost feeling wasteful so the shopping experience usually felt like you were being Bucky or Steve’s shadow as they searched through the clothes that they thought you would like or want you to wear which you much preferred to do. Especially as they both had a very good eye for picking out the most beautiful clothing, even though they seemed to be eye-watering expensive.

“If you bite that lip one more time hot mama, I’m going to take it out myself” Bucky muttered as he placed a suspiciously short black dress in front of you, not taking his eyes off of yours as he backed away, disappearing into the mass of clothing rails. Releasing the lip that you hadn’t realised was between your teeth as you shook your head, looking at the article of clothing now in your hands.

“You know, I might just let him”, Steve then whispered into your ear, making you jump not having noticed that he was close. It was now his turn to pass you a deep maroon silk dress. Both of your cheeks warmed at his words, something Steve seemed to notice as he leaned to peck your cheek and smile against your skin. “I love how easy it is to make your flush, baby”.

“I’m going to try some on!” you declared, standing quickly, holding the two dresses tightly in your hand, brushing past the Blonde mafia boss, ignoring his chuckle at your reactions as you moved into the empty changing rooms.

Breezing into one of the cubicles and shutting the curtain behind you, a few seconds passed as you decided which dress to try on first before finally going for the maroon dress. As you were about to ease the jumper up and over your head, a noise was heard on the other side of the curtain, stopping your movements. Smiling to yourself whilst simultaneously rolling your eyes, you shouted, “Steve, I’ve not even tried the first dress on yet, give me some time”-.

All words were cut off as the curtain was yanked to the side, revealing a deranged-looking man that you recognised from a few weeks ago. Not even daring to breathe as your heart pounded violently in your chest, staring at the man that you couldn’t quite remember his name, not that you could even remember your own when you noticed the gun being lifted to point directly at your forehead.

When you and Steve first started dating, he had spent hours going over how to react in different scenarios whether it was kidnap, being tied to a chair or being held at gunpoint but you’d never been in this sort of situation before, Steve and Bucky having never left your side for you to be in any danger. Trying your hardest not to allow fear to take over you completely, thinking hard over what Steve had taught you. The first was to show you were no threat, most of Steve’s enemies were triple the size of you and rather than trying to fight them off, you’d have to make them feel like they were in control so, you raised your shaking hands palms up, showing your surrender. Next was that you must follow their orders if and when necessary until help arrives, try and find out as much information as possible from the threat but as you looked into the desperate man's wild eyes, you didn’t want to risk upsetting him anymore by asking for his name. So you stayed in silence, as you heard Steve and Bucky talking close by, internally begging that you both stayed in there, you couldn’t even think about either of the boys being hurt but luck wasn’t on your side as he waved the gun in the direction of the boys, a silent command for you to walk ahead.

Exiting the changing cubicle, still facing the man, you took slow, steady steps backwards toward the main area of the store. “Turn around”, your heart dropped at his words, hating the fact that you had to have your back to the man with the gun.

Doing as commanded, you held back a scream as his arm was suddenly around your throat, not fully restricting your airwards but enough to make you struggle and grip his forearm to try and ease the tension as the cold tip of the gun was now pressed against your temple. He now led the way with his body behind yours, pushing you forward and entering the store once more. Your eyes desperately flicked between Steve and Bucky who both had their backs towards the two of you, still idly looking at clothes.

“Hands up!” the stranger shouted suddenly, making you jump, breath coming in shuddering bursts as you watched both of your boyfriends instinctively reached for their own guns in the holster attached to their chests but stopping when quickly when they turned and saw your predicament.

“Steve” you pleaded, hoping your voice wouldn’t annoy the man behind you but he didn’t say anything, only pushed the gun further into your temple causing a slight whimper to come out of your lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” the man demanded at Steve and Bucky’s movements. “Do you want me to blow a hole in her head, is that it? Both of you slowly, take out your guns and slide them over to me and if I hear either of your safety being clicked I can guarantee I will shoot her before you shoot me”. Both men stopped their movements instantly taking a second to contemplate the man's threats before slowly undoing the strap holding their guns to the belts and then sliding them across the floor until they knocked into your feet.

Now it had been a few minutes, and you had contemplated trying to disarm the man exactly how you’d been taught to do but now with the added pressure of both potentially being in the firing line and your increasing panic attack trembling beneath the surface, you decided against it. Instead, you tried to tug on his arm away from your neck as his rising anger only meant that he was cutting off your airway more.

Steve managed to catch your eye, seemingly not even blinking, almost like he was trying to communicate with you and for the most part, it helped you to steady your breathing. Your trust in Steve and Bucky was much more than the fear you held over the man holding you hostage but with their weapons now at your feet and they couldn't approach any closer, only the negative outcomes were consuming your thoughts entirely.

“Paul, don’t be stupid, point the gun somewhere else”, Steve’s voice remained calm as he addressed the man behind you, his name now sparking the memory of seeing him only two weeks ago in the boy's office, he looked just as angry then as he did now. Even as your body continued to tremble, you tried to hold eye contact with Steve’s unnaturally calm face, a clear comparison to Bucky’s when you had briefly glanced over and seen unfathomable rage, his body shaking slightly.

“Oh, should I? Did you do the same when my brother pleaded for his life a month ago?” Paul’s snarled, voice breaking slightly as if he was on the verge of tears. The hand holding the gun began to tremble with his heightening emotions but then he seemed to study himself, pressing it in further into your temple causing both pressure and pain to leave you gasping and knees buckling.

Steve and Bucky both shifted forward at hearing you in pain but Paul continued to shout, “stop! Hands-on your head, both of you. Did you really think you could get away with killing my brother? That there would be no repercussions for your actions, Rogers?”

You weren’t sure when but you’d begun to cry, wetness pooling down your cheeks, a sight that seemed to make Bucky flinch before he decided to speak up. “What do you think you’re going to achieve doing all this Paul? You kill her then what? We let you leave? Do you really think you’re going to get out of this situation without being skinned alive”. His voice was dripped with venom as he spoke and you could feel Paul shake slightly at the threat before he righted himself, standing to his full height which only caused you to stand on your tip toes from his grip around your throat.

“Maybe you’re right Barnes, I won’t get out of this alive, but what makes you so certain that you will?”

“No!” One moment the gun was pressed against your head and the next it was being pointed at Bucky and it was almost on instinct that you released your hold on his arm and reached for the gun, pulling it back to point at you. It was like a reflex, not fully comprehending what you’d done but judging by the dark looks in Steve and Bucky’s eyes, they weren’t happy with it.

What shocked you next was a chuckle coming from the man holding you, his mouth moving to your ear which only caused more rage in Steve’s eyes. “Do you really want to die for these murderers?” he whispered.

“Yes”, you answered honestly, without a moment's hesitation. Pauls's arm tightened around your throat with more strength, cutting off any chance of you breathing in. Struggling against his hold, eyes now closing as the overwhelming pressure increased in your head, white noise pounding in your ears.

“Have it your way then”, Paul continued, the cool tip of the gun once again pressing in against your head, if you’d opened your eyes you would have noticed Steve and Bucky make a move to step forward when the deafening bang of a gun firing echoed throughout the store.

Almost in an instant, the arm around your neck loosens so that you were able to suck in the deepest breath you’d ever experienced but it only caused you to cough violently, trying desperately to take more and more breaths as your knees gave way. A warm body caught you before were able to collide with the floor and Steve’s urgent voice was whispering in your ear as he was able to drag you across the store.

In the rush and panic of the store being raided by other members of Steve’s gang, you were able to spot Paul lifeless on the floor with blood pouring from the fatal wound in his head but Steve was quick to cup your cheeks and turn you away from the scene. “That’s it baby keep taking nice long breaths for me, in and out. Are you injured anywhere else? Are you ok?” You’d never heard Steve fully lose control like this before, no matter the situation he was always level-headed but he seemed just as close to having a panic attack as you were.

As he spoke, he continued to move you throughout the Store until the sun was beaming down on you and the car door was being opened for him to place you into the backseat. Steve’s thumbs brushed away the tears that had stained your cheek, you were able to respond. “Steve, I’m ok, I think, I’m-I’m fine” your fingers rubbed against your neck, something Steve was quick to notice.

His fingers lingered on the sore spot before leaning his face closer and fiercely kissing your forehead, taking a deep breath in, almost like he was trying to memorise your smell before swiftly leaving and shutting the car door behind him and walking back into the shop. Muffled, you were able to hear him shout to Bucky, “take her home, now!”

The brunette was out of the store and into the driver's side of the car in only a few strides, engine on and the store was far in the rear-view mirror. In the shock of suddenly driving off without Steve, your tears had ceased and concern had replaced fearful feelings as Bucky drove harshly through traffic, definitely going over the speed liit as he swerved around cars. “Bucky please slow down, we should have waited for Steve.”

“Put your seatbelt on”, was his only response, blue eyes unblinking as he stared ahead at the road. You couldn’t sit in the back and not be close to him, not after everything that had occurred so made the decision to quickly climb into the front of the car and into the passenger side seat.

“You need to put your seatbelt on as well”, you tried to tell him, fumbling with shaking fingers to clip in your own. Bucky didn’t say a single word as he kept one hand on the wheel, and the other helped to click your seatbelt before quickly doing his own. The two of you didn’t speak another word, even though you wanted to talk, tell him how much you love him, how scared you were, how thankful you are to him and Steve and the gang but every time your mouth opened, all thoughts dispersed.

Finally giving up on the words, you watched him carefully. How painfully his jaw was clenched, the metal hand that was holding the steering wheel so violently you could see the material was beginning to bend and he was sat so still you were sure for a moment that he wasn’t breathing.

So lost in watching Bucky, you’d not noticed that the two of you had arrived at the gates of your home until the car stopped directly outside of the front door. The silence was almost deafening as you swallowed thickly but Bucky’s thoughts seemed to be somewhere far away. Deciding to make the first step, you unclipped both your and Bucky’s seat belt.

“Don’t you ever point the gun at yourself and risk your life for me ever again, do you understand?” His voice was only just above a whisper, cold and full of passion as his eyes finally snapped to look at yours.

You weren’t sure what to respond with, on instinct wanting to disagree, having made the same decision a thousand times more but with the panic and hurt in his eyes, you weren’t sure you could have this conversation right now.

“Yes, I understand”.

“Good… because I can’t lose you” Bucky’s voice cracked as well as your heart as his eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“I can’t lose you either”, you couldn’t hold back your emotions as warm tears escaped the corner of your eyes as the two of you reached for one another. Bucky opened his arms as you climbed across the car until you were straddling his lap, the steering wheel uncomfortable against your back but you didn’t care as he held you close to his chest. Finally, you released the pent-up emotions, sobbing into his shirt as he comforted you with soft whispers and delicate strokes of his fingers through your hair.

Eventually, your cries calmed and a soft buzz hummed through your veins, muscles relaxing into his hold, the warmth from his body consuming you thoroughly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you, no one’s going to hurt you now, I’m never letting you go”, Bucky continued to whisper comforts that made you feel safe.

A knock at the car window had Bucky shifting but you paid no attention to it, wanting to only be with Bucky, unsure of even how much time had passed. The sound of the door opening filled the silence, and then Steve’s voice was floating to your ears. “Is she asleep?”

“No I don’t think so, are you sweetheart?” Bucky asked before kissing the side of your head.

“I’m awake, sir” you were able to mumble, feeling even fuzzier, mouth dry and head spinning slightly. “I feel funny”.

“Lets’s get you inside baby” Steve encouraged, working with Bucky to ease you from the car and once more half-carrying you into your home.

Promptly you found yourself being placed onto the couch, your body melting into the cushions. Steve knelt before you as Bucky walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, handing it to you which you gladly drank. The two men waited patiently for you to finish drinking before Steve took your hand.

“What happened today, I can promise will never happen again.” Bucky took your other hand as he sat next to you on the couch, looking at you just as intently as Steve was.

“I know-”

“Please let me finish. What happened today, I don’t know how that little weasel managed to sneak his way into the facility or get as close to you as he was able to hurt you. But please know, you will never be in harm's way ever again. If another person so much as looks at you wrong, I promise their lives will be quickly ended. In fact, I’m slightly annoyed that Sam ended that fucker as quickly as he had, he deserved to feel everything I had planned for him” Steve spat with venom before taking a quick steadying breath before continuing.

“I love you, Bucky loves you and I know you love us. Nothing like this will happen again, can you forgive us?”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive, you couldn’t have helped what happened. I knew what loving you both would be like, the danger I wanted to put myself in and I’d never blame you, I love you and nothing can change that.” The truth spilt from your lips in a blur, every word the truth and you wish there was a way that you could prove this more but you found yourself completely exhausted.

You tried to smile at the men who seemed still just as tense but as you caught each of their eyes with your own, they seemed to relax, squeezing your hands before Steve smiled back. “How are you feeling now? Does your neck still hurt?”

“Slightly, but mostly when I touch it or move my head, otherwise I’m ok, still feeling a little fuzzy” you admitted.

Bucky nodded your head, stroking a hand now your cheek to cup your face tenderly. “Did he injure anywhere else?”

“No, nowhere else”.

“Do you mind if we check?” Steve asked seriously, a slight crease appearing between his brows.

“Yes, of course, but you have nothing to worry about”.

“I still just want to be sure”. Each man sat beside you, your head turning in each direction causing you to wince at the movement. “Look forward Doll, we’ve got you”.

You did as instructed, trying to peak from the corner of your eyes as Steve and Bucky moved with the same idea in mind, inspecting a hand each in their lap before kissing each of your fingers delicately when they deemed there was no injury. Next, they turned your arms, looking at every inch of skin and then leaving a trail of kisses as they moved along the limbs. The tenderness in their movements had you shivering in anticipation, especially as they reached the shoulders and their heavy gaze was felt on your burning face.

Steve leaned forward first, the touch of his lips against your cheeks causing your eyes to shut in calmness. Then as Bucky’s lips connected with your other cheek, did Steve lean in to kiss you deeply, all emotions from the day, the love, everything went into the kiss and it had you moaning and almost wanting to cry and all too quickly he was pulling back and Bucky was taking his place, the metal hand stroking a stray of hair behind your ear.

As Bucky too moved back, you made to follow but the brunette paused your movements, his chuckle deep in his chest, “we still need to check the rest of your body first, mama”.

Steve's fingers gripped the edge of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving in just a simple lacy white bra that displayed your already perked nipples beneath. Their eyes, followed by their lips moved to your shoulders, causing a shiver to spark down your spine and goosebumps to litter your skin.

Steve moved back first as he reached the edge of your bra, “stand up for us baby”. He held up his hand for you to hold as you stood, turning you slightly so your front was facing Steve and your back was facing Bucky who was too now standing. Your breaths were coming out in short bursts as you tried to not look down as Steve knelt before you, hands resting on your hips, searching your body before leaning in a licking a single strip from your navel to the band of your bra.

Bucky was similarly doing the same except when he reached the lacy material, with one hand unclipped the clasps at the back, allowing for the material to slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to Steve who hungrily disposed of the material and seal his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out an ungodly moan, back arching to be closer to Steve, hands lifting to hold onto his blonde hair but Bucky eased his own hands around you, tugging lightly on your wrists until they were in his grasp and behind your back.

Steve then moved to the other nipple, his hand squeezing the now wet and perky breast as his tongue teased the other, the sensations and pleasure pulsing to between your legs. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on his touch, the warmth and comfort that it gave you, as well as Bucky was still tenderly kissing up and down your spine, holding your hands together.

“Steve…” sighing as you spoke his name, feeling the need increasing in your cunt, thighs rubbing together to try and ease any sort of tension. With a wet pop, Steve unattached himself from your nipple, leaving it slightly swollen from his mouth's action and once more he continued his visual and physical journey down your body.

Helping you out of your jeans and underwear in one swift motion, dragging them down your legs, Bucky helping to keep you upright as the material was removed from each leg, both socks going with it until you were in the complete nude before them both.

Once again, Steve and Bucky worked in tandem with one another. As Steve lifted one leg up to cradle, he inspected your feet, calf and thigh, kissing and licking as he moved, and Bucky did the same with the leg you were trying to stand on. Both of them doing so was a difficult feat to achieve, especially as both reached your sensitive thighs that had your knee buckling therefore Bucky had to keep you upright but never faltered in his lips journey.

Your skin was now hot to the touch, especially as you could feel the cool air around you grazing over your damp upper thighs from where your desire had spread over and as Steve and Bucky reached the top of their individual thigh, you were already moaning for whatever their next moves were.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel Bucky smiling against your arse cheek as he leaned in to peck each one quickly and then standing to his full height, standing so his clothed chest was against your naked back, arms trapped in the small space as both his arms encircled around your waist.

You were about to ask what he had planned but his actions proved the answer for this as he lifted you slightly, allowing your legs to drape over Steve’s shoulders and his face to delve between your legs, right to that spot you were so desperate for him to search. Instinctively your thighs clenched around his face as his thick tongue pushed between your folds, but he seemed to like being squeezed from the deep moan he purred.

Steve didn’t miss a single drip of liquid as he licked up and down your slit, slipping his tongue into your already clenching hole as far as he could reach before pulling out and moving up to your early awaiting clit that he greedily sucked into his warm mouth. You were completely overwhelmed by his wonderful mouth, a continuous stream of moans spilling from your mouth.

“Do you like that Doll? Do you like it when he fucks you with his tongue?” Bucky asked, his face had dropped so that his lips were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Yes, sir” you quickly agreed, wishing that your arms were free so that you could run it through Steve’s blonde hair. Bucky chuckled at your response, kissing your temple and continuing to hold you up for Steve to continue pleasuring you.

As Steve’s tongue swirled around your clit at an increased pace, you could feel the sudden tightening in your abdomen, a sensation that was only increasing with each stroke of Steve’s. “I’m going to cum daddy”, you announced, not being able to hold back the nickname anymore, needing them to know just how far gone you truly were in the pleasure.

The mafia leader seemed to like it if the smile against your pussy was anything to go by and the next moment, you felt the tip of two of his fingers breach your cunt, stretching it out. Once again, the duo worked together, Bucky began whispering encouragements in your ear, “cum for us Doll, that’s it mama, cum all over his face”, and Steve began curling his fingers against that spot within that had you seeing stars as his mouth sucked harshly on your clit.

It only took another breath and the overwhelming sensation consumed your entire body, back arching, legs twitching and cunt convulsing and his fingers as you orgasmed hard. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as you tried to regain your normal breathing pattern.

“I want you both” you declared after a moment, wanting nothing more at that moment than to feel you all connected and to feel full of their cocks. Steve eased a few inches away from your cunt, looking up at you which you could now see as you glanced down with half-lidded eyes.

“I think we should take it easy today, we don’t want to put you under too much pressure today, you need to rest”.

You weren’t able to hold back to annoyed sigh, even if you had tried to. “Well you should have thought about that before checking me for marks, I want you both, please daddy”.

“Sassy Girl”, Bucky whispered against your cheek as he still held you up.

“Fine, but give it some time, we need to prep you first” Steve finally agreed but you were still being impatient.

“No, I want to feel it, I know I can take it, I just want to feel you both now and it was only this morning that you’d both fucked me anyway. I promise I can take it” you tried to reason with him, sticking out your lower lip for better effect as he looked up at you from his position still on his knees.

Steve and Bucky seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, something that you’d decided was taking way too long as you wiggled your hips, knocking slightly into Steve’s face. “Fine, you win baby” he finally relented, standing up and dropping your shaky legs to the floor.

Thankfully Bucky was still holding up most of your weight as you tried to hide your shit-eating grin as Steve began undressing, your eyes dropping to the throbbing cock, already dripping to be inside of you. Steve let out a deep chortle, your eyes looking up at his face to see his smile curved into a beautiful smirk as he held out his arms for you.

“Come here, sweetheart”, the mafia leader helped to grasp your hips, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around his waist, hands that were once trapped behind your back were now gripping the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Your lips were instantly connected with his, desperately moving and pressing against his soft ones, tongue even slipping between. You were utterly breathless and only pulled back to gasp as the tip of his cock pressed against your awaiting hole, pushing in slowly, making sure to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck you feel so good” he praised in your ear, teeth then nibbling the soft lobe as you moaned and tried to refrain from dropping your head back as your neck still ached slightly.

From behind you, Bucky swiftly removed his clothes, moving his hand up and down his shaft a few times as he watched you hungrily from behind, waiting for the moment Steve glanced at him and gave a swift nod and then stepped forward so his chest was once more touching your back, one hand now resting on your hip and the other at the base of his cock.

“Remember Doll, if you want me to stop use the colour code, ok? We’ll take this nice and easy hot mama.”

Bucky's voice was calm as he talked you through his motions as he aimed his cock towards your asshole. Both of the mens body heats were helping your body to relax as you closed your eyes, leaning your head delicately against Steve’s shoulders, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to tense around Steve’s cock that was still inside of your cunt as Bucky began to penetrate you.

Without the fucking session from the morning, you wouldn’t have been able to take him without any prepping as both men were significantly sized. Even with the morning, the stretch of Bucky’s cock still had you squeezing your eyes tightly, trying to remain relaxed so that it wouldn’t hurt as inch after inch delved deeper until his full cock was twitching inside, matching Steve’s.

You almost felt beyond full, your muscles between your legs stretching to the max and you were thankful that they were so tentative of your feelings, letting you take your time to adjust, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to raise your hips slightly, indicating that you were ready.

Bucky and Steve then took complete control so that all you had to do was hold onto Steve and melt into their bodies as they began slowly rolling their hips, working together to drag across every single one of your nerves that had you screaming out in pleasure.

They began slowly, making sure to still not cause you any harm but before long you couldn’t take the reserved pace. “Please go faster, I need you to fuck me harder daddies, please!”

You sounded desperate and that’s because you were, wanting to feel the rough slaps of their hips, the way their fingers clenched harder into your skin as they started to lose control of their own restraints. You needed this thought, needing to forget about the day's events, about how close you were to losing them both.

The orgasms you were experiencing were enough to make you forget your own name, only being able to scream there as your cunt and asshole tightened and contracted almost consistently around them but they didn’t relent their movements.

Maybe you were lost in subspace, the surroundings have become fuzzy, or maybe you were just cock drunk but at some point, tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t lose either of you” you sobbed, head tipping back against Bucky, not caring about the pain you experienced in your neck from the movement.

Both men stopped fucking you which was the exact opposite of what you wanted as you desperately moaned, “please don’t stop!”

They did as instructed, almost trying to move closer, kissing along your shoulder and face, catching any tears that had slipped out as they put as much emotion into their fucking as you were into your moaning.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, ever! I love you” Steve grunted as his hot cum coated your pussy, dripping out and onto the floor as he sloppy slowed down his thrusting.

Bucky continued to fuck you hard, your cunt already spasming through another orgasm, you weren't even sure what number it was anymore.

“I’m going to always protect you mama, don’t forget that” Bucky grunted, his balls tightening to his body as you were able to moan out ‘i love you’ as he found his own release, his cum dripping down and missing with Steve’s.

All three of you were breathing heavily, sweating glistening your naked bodies as you kept your eyes closed. Bucky and Steve had pulled out at one point but continued to hold you up between them.

“You with us baby?” Steve asked, kissing your forehead, not caring about the sweat.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, sounding half asleep.

Bucky smiled into your shoulder, kissing it once before taking a step back, “don’t worry Doll, we’re going to look after you” he promised, watching as Steve began to carry you up to the bedroom, planning to get you washed and into bed. Even if tomorrow the full extent of the day's events hits you, you knew that Steve and Bucky would be there for you no matter what.

#mafia au #steve rogers smut #stucky smut #steve rogers one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot #steve rogers fanfic #marvel smut #marvel one shot #stucky one shot #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mine*

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zepskies · 11 months

Text

Break Me Down - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: I think a lot of you have been waiting on this one…and stick around after the end for something special!

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Can’t Wait” by Foreigner (if you listen to it, you’ll see why).

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and feels. That is all.

Part 7: Until Midnight

Two weeks later, you could admit that Ben was frustrating you in a different way than usual.

You didn’t want to like him, or be indebted to him. But he was different lately whenever the two of you were alone. Especially at night, when the two of you often met in the kitchen.

It was the one time where he truly seemed to relax, without his men around him. Without the Soldier Boy persona he wore like a fine tailored suit.

One night, the two of you were once again sitting together in the kitchen after a marathon of all three Hangover movies. Now you each had a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, of which you’d convinced him to try the “Chunky Monkey” so you could have your “Half Baked” brownie pieces and cookie dough to yourself.

Ben had all but inhaled his, while you were still chipping away at half the pint.

“You still hate me?” he asked.

You paused in delving into a thick piece of brownie to look up at his bearded face, which was deceptively nonchalant. If he was asking you that, then he really did want to know.

Yet it was a harder question to answer than you would’ve thought a couple of weeks ago. You decided to level him with the truth this time.

“Like I said before, I don’t have a personal vendetta against you or anything,” you admitted.

Ben rose a brow at you. “But you hate me.”

You sighed. He could be so childish sometimes.

“Have you forgotten that you’re still holding me against my will?” you pointed out. “Presumably until my team can find me, and you can pick them off one by one.”

“You fuckers came at me first,” he countered. “And I haven’t touched you. Hell, I saved you.”

Yes, he had. You couldn’t ignore that fact.

But there were other reasons that he needed to be put in check.

“You’ve killed a lot of fucking people, Ben,” you said. “I can’t imagine how many of them didn’t deserve it. And before you start, collateral damage is not an excuse. It’s murder. You haven’t seemed to care about that, or much of anyone other than yourself and your own amusement.”

There. Cards on the table.

Ben set down his ice cream on the counter with enough force to rattle his spoon. He crossed his arms at you.

“You’re pretty fucking high and mighty for someone who probably spent the last few years up Vought’s shithole,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Doing their dirty work. Whatever I did back then, it didn’t end with me. You were part of it too.”

You frowned in annoyance. A hot retort was poised on your tongue.

Whatever he did back then? He’d crashed a skyscraper and killed nineteen people last year! He’d taken out nearly the entire cast of Payback, his old team. However justified he felt about the latter, taking a life was taking a goddamn life!

You wanted to say all that and more…but you paused.

Because he wasn’t exactly wrong, about you at least. You knew you’d done your fair share of shit. And you had taken people out, when you’d needed to.

For self-defense, to stop a criminal, to protect someone…and yes, sometimes, you’d been part of the cleanup crew. Disposing bodies and extracting supes from “unfortunate situations.”

Those times made you feel less than human for being a part of it. And it was the main reason why you’d gotten the courage to quit Vought and join Supe Affairs in the first place…

You frowned at the trail of your thoughts, but his voice soon jolted you out of them.

“Ain’t this a bitch,” said Ben. “If you could, you’d want me dead. Even though I saved you.”

Your lips pursed. “Dead is a strong word.”

His angry gaze on you was unrelenting.

“Asleep is as good as dead for me.”

You stared back at him in resignation. Fair enough.

You couldn’t refute that, but you also didn’t know what he wanted from you. He was implying that he wanted you not to hate him, but he wasn’t willing to let you go either.

You got up to put your spoon in the sink, mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

Ben rose from his seat. You felt him approach from behind. You still tensed up as his arm reached around your form to drop in his own spoon. His arm withdrew, but he stood just behind you, at your side. His hand curled around the edge of the counter.

Letting out a discreet, steadying breath, you turned towards him and met his assessing gaze…but you soon looked away.

It was too much. He was too much. Even his musky cologne was invading your senses, threatening to cloud your judgment.

Before you could back away, Ben grasped your chin, tilting your face up to him so you couldn’t hide. He heard your pulse picking up with his sensitive ears.

“Well, well. Your heart’s just racing away, baby doll,” he said.

He smirked at the blush rising in your cheeks, despite your defiant gaze. You might’ve said you wanted to put him to sleep, but you definitely didn’t seem to hate him.

“You know, that offer’s still on the table,” he said. Your brow quirked, and you crossed your arms.

“What offer?”

Ben’s hand slid along to frame your jawline, his thumb sweeping across your reddened cheek.

“I can help you end that little dry spell of yours,” he drawled. “Calm that pretty head and have you sleeping soundly tonight.”

Oh, he’d help you fucking sleep, he thought.

He’d help you not be able to sit on that perfect ass for a week. He’d gladly work you up with fingers, lips, and tongue until you threatened to fucking drown him. Until you were writhing at his touch and singing just for him. Until you begged him to fuck you.

But you just rolled your eyes at his offer with a huff. Maybe you didn’t believe he was serious. Oh, but he fucking was.

Overall, you were a pain in his ass. And you had been from the beginning.

You had a dangerously smart mouth for a woman. Along with a stubborn streak to rival his, and a strangely self-righteous attitude for someone who’d mucked through the bowels of Vought and played a part in that world, just like him. You weren’t so fucking innocent either.

But he could also see that you were trying to be different. You had a conscience. A family and friends and a lot of other things that Ben didn’t have anymore. And maybe never had to begin with…

You claimed to want to bring him down, but you cooked for him, hung out with him, and he could start to believe that you actually enjoyed his company, rather than pretended for self-preservation’s sake.

You were a fucking conundrum that he couldn’t totally figure out. And all the while, you didn’t seem to realize how much of a temptation you were.

It didn’t matter if it was that sexy red dress at the club or these plain-ass jeans you were wearing. His hands itched to mold to your curves, squeeze and tease and familiarize himself until he could find out how glorious it would be to damn near suffocate between your thighs.

Your pretty blush, however, was spreading down your neck. Ben wondered how far he could make it go as he glanced down your V-neck top. His smile edged into a grin.

“I’ll admit, maybe I haven’t been the best host,” he said, injecting some charm. “You gotta be bored as all hell by now.”

You swallowed as his hand moved down the side of your neck. His fingers slid into your hair, but he kept the smooth pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. You didn’t want to admit that it felt nice—and electrifying at the same time.

His touch was raising goosebumps down the back of your neck, tingling down your spine.

“You might be projecting,” you managed to quip. “Is the conveyor belt of prostitutes and drugs finally losing its appeal?”

You studied his face, his smirk, and you had a feeling you had deduced correctly: he was bored too. But now you knew why he didn’t want you to hate him.

He just wanted to fuck you.

That thought wasn’t so surprising. It seemed this man could jump into bed with just about anything with a pulse. But it still made a tendril of heat lick up your spine and your face flush.

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense.

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Ben smirked. His hand tightened in your hair, and he finally began to lean down.

But your breath hitched. You instinctively pressed your hands against his chest before he could kiss you, a firm push.

“Ben,” you uttered.

He stopped, looking down at you with knitted brows. He just thought you were being stubborn now, a fucking tease even…

Until he saw the frisson of fear in your eyes.

He quirked a resigned smile. Stroking your cheek one last time, he let you go.

“All right,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

Your heart was hammering like a Phil Collins drum solo inside your chest as you made your way back to your room.

What the hell, what the hell.

He’d teased and flirted with you before, but not like this. It wasn’t totally obnoxious or disgusting, like he’d genuinely been trying to persuade you. He’d even looked disappointed when you stopped him. And he’d allowed you to stop him.

(And you resisted a shudder at the contrasting memory of Antonio.)

When you were back in your room, you released a relieved sigh. Your hands trembled on the doorknob.

But it wasn’t fear that’d made you nervous with Ben. Not exactly. It was the insane part of you that actually wanted to take him up on his offer.

Fuck, you thought, raising a palm to your still-warm forehead. I really must be crazy. Or sick. Sick in the head.

Or it had been a stupidly long time since you’d gotten laid.

“Seriously, tell me,” he’d said once, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched? ‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a damn shame.”

The memory caused a delicate tingle in your lower belly, pulsing between your legs. You took in a deep, calming breath through your nose.

That’s it, you thought. I’m done with this.

So you tried for a cold shower first. For the record, you locked the bathroom door before you undressed and hopped into the shower. As the water beat against your back and you dutifully lathered soap on your skin, you couldn’t help imagining his heavy hands running over your body.

Fuck. You frowned and quickly dragged yourself out of the shower.

For a few minutes, you were too antsy to get dressed. You paced your small room wearing only a towel, not even thinking really. Just frustrated beyond belief (sexually or otherwise). The truth was, you needed something, or you were going to implode.

With a heavy sigh, you laid in bed on your side, still wrapped in your towel. You wrapped your hair up in a loose bun and closed your eyes, just taking a few moments to breathe evenly.

Your knees were folded up, almost to your chest. But you relaxed and let your thighs fall open. With a tentative hand, you decided to slide up between your thighs, just teasing the seam of your pussy.

Then with a sigh, you delved between your folds and teased yourself, to start with. Warmth grew in your lower belly, and you sighed louder when you slid a finger inside. You were wet already just with this, and your sighs turned to shallow breaths, and even a moan once heat flooded through your core, and you were getting close…

But a knock at the door just had to startle you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You there?”

Your eyes widened with a gasp, and you moved your hand back to your thigh. Oh shit.

It was Ben. Of course it was fucking Ben.

“Ah, w-wait a minute,” you replied. You scrambled out of bed to lock the door before he tried to come in.

But just your luck, he cracked it open just as you got there. You were met with his handsome face.

His brows rose, his lips then curving when he looked down at you. Or more specifically, you clad in only a towel. You tightened it up on reflex, with a hand on the twisted part at your chest.

“Excuse me,” you said in annoyance. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

His mouth twitched at a deeper grin.

“It’s nothing major. I just had to ask you something,” he said, with an air of nonchalance that only made you suspicious.

Your lips pressed together as you rose an expectant brow.

“Okay, ask,” you said.

Ben reached for your hand, the one holding your towel together.

“Can I see this hand?”

You yelped and secured the towel with your other hand while he examined the one he held.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, with real irritation now. Ben ignored you in favor of staring at your hand, specifically the pads of your fingers. Then his gaze cut to you slyly.

He held your middle and index finger up to his nose, with an obscene inhale.

Your eyes grew wide as your heart stuttered. He did not just…

And Ben smirked.

“I think you’re the one with the fucking problem,” he said knowingly. He took a step forward, but you stepped back. Unfortunately, that just brought your back against the doorframe. Your mouth went dry when you again looked up at him.

“I don’t know what—”

He stopped you before you could deny it further.

“You think I couldn’t fucking hear you?” he asked.

You bit your lip. Oh God.

His brows ran even higher, his smirk ever deeper. His lust-ridden eyes raked over you, but they soon met yours again. His thumb ran down the inside of your wrist, over your quickening pulse point.

“I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while, huh?” he said. “Believe me, I know the fucking feeling. But I can take care of that little problem for you. Take care of you.”

You took in a tremulous breath. His heady voice was a curse, reverberating through your chest and running straight down between your legs, warm and pulsing. He raised your chin to make you look up at him.

“You don’t have to like me for that, do you?” he asked.

It was as honest an offer as you were ever going to get. You had to give it to him though, in this, he was a good goddamn actor. He seemed to have figured out exactly what it would take to soften your resolve.

In fact, he fucking crumbled it.

You released a shuddering breath, and tugged him into your room by his shirt. With a hand behind his neck, you pulled him down into your hungry lips.

That kiss was warm and heady, fueled with a passion that only waiting and wanting could create.

Ben took the invitation to heart, grabbing your hips and already bunching the fabric of your towel. It was thin, and he felt the soft give of your curves underneath. He hoisted you up into his arms.

While a normal man might’ve struggled, you knew it was effortless for him. You willingly wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face with both hands. You broke the kiss for a second so you could brush his hair back and made sure he looked into your eyes this time.

“I don’t hate you,” you told him between panting breaths. “I should, but I don’t.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

Ben paused at that. He roamed your face, maybe judging if he believed you or not.

Then, his mouth curved, and with one hand he reached back to slam your bedroom door shut. It shook on its hinges, but he didn’t wait for it to settle as he walked you to the bed and laid you there beneath him. Your hair fell out of its messy bun and fanned out on the pillow.

Ben gazed down at you, enjoying the sight of you all laid out for him. You were already breathing shallowly, your beautiful eyes bright with anticipation and wild desire. They were honest, and he liked that he finally knew what you were thinking.

He claimed a tight grip on your smooth thighs, parting them so he could find his way in between. He moved his way up to claim your lips next. They were plush and pliant under his.

You sighed against his mouth, diving a hand into his soft hair and running a hand down to the buttons of his shirt. He stopped you and all but tore it off himself.

You blinked in surprise, and then giggled a little at his impatience. But it allowed you to explore the new expanse of golden tan skin, down his neck, over his firm chest and muscular arms.

He relished in it for a moment—your touch. Your hands were soft and warm, and you looked to be genuinely enjoying yourself.

He smirked at that, but he grabbed your wrists before they could venture too much farther than the trail of hair leading below his belt. He trapped them against the bed on either side of your head, and you raised your brows at him with an annoyed little frown. Ben had to chuckle.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” he said. You met him with a challenging tilt of your chin.

“Who says you get to make all the rules?” you asked. Your calf slid up between his legs, brushing insistently against his already rock-hard length. Ben let out something between a grunt and a moan, and didn’t realize that his grip on your arms was starting to get more than bruising.

You winced, with a pained sound caught in your throat. “Ben, you’re gonna break me.”

He amended his grip immediately, frowning at himself. He knew how to control his goddamn strength, even in moments like this (usually). Maybe he was too fucking excited to finally have you beneath him.

But he soothed his thumbs over your wrists and heeded the tug of your hands down to your waiting kiss. He braced an arm above your head and all but devoured you, slipping his tongue past your lips.

He kissed you like a man starving. Like you’d never been kissed in your life, and it was all you could to keep up with his demands.

Eventually he burned a wet trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. He inhaled your floral soap, a scent that had been driving him crazy for days.

He sucked hard behind your ear, and you gasped, thought you were going to see stars.

Unconsciously you gripped at his hair, tugging more harshly than you meant to. But by the pleased sound he made against your skin, you figured he didn’t mind.

Ben soothed a heavy hand up your side and reached between you to untie your flimsy towel. And you let out a slightly shaky breath when he took in your fully naked form for the first time.

“Hmm,” his lips slipped into a grin. “I knew it. Fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but blush, but you didn’t quite know what to say. Ben noticed; it wasn’t too often that he had you speechless.

Amused, he thumbed at your lower lip once more, making you smile almost shyly. (He kind of liked that too.)

And he finally touched you, brushing a hand between the valley of your breasts before palming at one of them. You sighed in appreciation, then moaned as his lips found the other one, his tongue swirling languidly around your nipple.

You arched into his touch, gripped into every groove and dip of muscle in his arms, especially when his fingers rolled and pinched just hard enough on the other nipple.

Your thighs pressed together between the cage of his legs, trying to find friction.

Ben noticed. He let one hand sooth down your belly, half pinning you down as he continued his relentless exploration. You wanted to touch him too, but right now he wasn’t letting up. Everywhere he touched and kissed and sucked set your skin on fire, and enhanced the flood between your legs.

“Ben,” you panted into his ear. If you weren’t allowed to find out what he liked yet (though you had several ideas), then you wanted him to touch you.

“Be fucking patient,” he said with a chuckle. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

You had no doubt of that. But you were becoming impatient.

“Yeah? Am I gonna be as old as you before we get to it?” you teased. Ben glanced up at you, but seeing your smirk, his own grew.

“All right you little shit,” he muttered. He moved up to claim your smart-ass lips, swallowing your giggle as he took a firm grip of your hair.

His other hand, meanwhile, slid up the back of your thigh to grip a nice handful of your ass. He ground his clothed dick into your core and made you both moan.

He slipped a hand up the inside of your thigh and brushed between your legs, making you quiver with anticipation.

He smiled and glanced down.

“Finally, something I recognize in this century,” he remarked. “A nice bush.”

Your brows raised high, both in surprise and slight embarrassment. No one had ever given you that particular compliment before. But you did pride yourself on being neatly trimmed.

“What?” you still uttered.

“Women are so damn waxed nowadays. Feels like I’m fucking a mannequin,” he said.

“Oh, yeah.” You giggled as something occurred to you. “I’m assuming you encountered some bare landing strips on your tour of Brazil.”

He snorted in response. “One girl actually tried to get me on the waxing table. Something about a ‘manzilian.’”

You couldn’t help it. You pictured how confused he must’ve been at that particular offer. How damn near offended (and possibly intrigued).

And you laughed genuinely so hard that you covered your eyes as they teared up.

It made Ben smirk on reflex, feeling pleased that he achieved that kind of reaction out of you.

“You tapped out on that one, huh?” you asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Ben shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad, actually.”

At that, you laughed even harder. Oh, how you wished you could’ve seen that.

Ben quirked an amused brow at you.

“You laughin’ at me, sweetheart?” he warned. He reached between your legs while you were distracted, and thick fingers slipped between your wet folds. You yelped in surprise, but then moaned in pleasure as his thumb found your already sensitive clit.

But he, in fact, knew how to take care of you. His thick digits explored your channel and rubbed persistently against that spongey part near the back, slipping in and out with ease, and circling deliberately around your clit until your inner walls squeezed around his hand.

All the while, you held on tight to his shoulders and shuddered at the warmth cresting deep inside you.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, with a clenching hand in your hair. “Squeeze the shit out of me. Come all over my fucking hand, and then I’ll consider filling you up to the fucking brim.”

With a long and keening moan, you came apart, hot and wet over his fingers.

“Shit. That’s a good girl,” he praised with a nod. He stroked inside you a couple more times before he withdrew his glistening hand.

You held onto his other one as you panted for breath. “Fuck.”

“Fucking right,” he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but you still smiled as you sat up and went for his belt. You were surprised he hadn’t fully undressed himself sooner, but he sat up and let you do it.

The two of you knelt on the bed as the belt came free, followed by his pants and underwear and socks (he’d long ago kicked off the shoes). His smug smirk came back now that he was in his full glory, so to speak.

Another blush heated your face. You’d seen him like this once before, but there had been…a lot going on that time.

This time you had him all to yourself. Your canvas to explore. You started with kisses down his neck, like he’d done to you, biting and sucking though you couldn’t leave any marks on his skin.

Not fair, you thought in disappointment, but at least you were eliciting some pleased and guttural sounds the further down you went. And then you took his hard, velvety cock in your hands.

He was big enough that you were maybe a little concerned, but not enough to deter you as you teased him with your soft hands, then squeezed and caressed experimentally. He gripped your hips tight.

“Now who’s taking a fucking eternity,” he gritted out. He encouraged you to lie back and raised your hips. You found purchase on his shoulders as your eyes met with his, and after a beat, you smiled and gave a short nod.

Ben aligned himself at your entrance and, slowly as he could manage, pushed inside you. You cried out as he stretched you, filled you deep and bottoming out with mangled moans from both of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so fucking good already.”

You managed to smile and run a hand down his chest. “Uh, you didn’t ask, but I am on birth control.”

His brows furrowed in realization. “What, the fucking pill?”

His team certainly hadn’t supplied you with that for the past month.

You shook your head. “No. An IUD. It’s fine.”

You couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation when he was literally inside you already.

“What? Thought those died out in the 70s,” he said.

“Well, they came back,” you said impatiently. “Just fuck me, Ben!”

Not one to be told twice, Ben continued by slowly pulling out of you, nearly the entire length of his cock, before pushing back in. It was torturous for him, but he knew you needed the time to adjust. By the third stroke, however, he snapped back into you more forcefully.

It elicited a gasp and pleased shudder out of you. Grinning, he picked up the pace from there and pounded into you at a relentless clip. You held onto his arms for dear life, your nails clawing fruitlessly into his skin. You grabbed his hand when he reached a particularly good angle, moaning his name.

“That’s right, crooner. Soon enough I’ll have you singing my fucking name,” he growled. “Knew I was gonna have you just like this, fucking you raw.”

You moaned in response. His words, his voice, his touch, it was all breaking you down and taking you apart, piece by piece.

Meanwhile, your voice only spurred him on. Letting go of your hand, his reached for your cheek. Then it slid down to your neck.

“You got a safe word, baby girl?” he asked, closing a firm, but playful hand around your throat.

But before he could put much pressure, your eyes flew open. Not in arousal, but in panic. Your hands flew to grasp at his wrist.

“Don’t! Please, don’t.”

Ben looked down at you, surprised enough to pause in all his movements. He released his hand.

He’d very rarely seen wide-eyed panic in your eyes and in your voice. And you’d never said please.

But then, even more strange, you got embarrassed.

You looked away from him as you caught your breath. Ben called to you uncertainly, perhaps for the first time using your actual name.

You took in a deep breath and sat up. But instead of pushing him away, like he half-expected, you moved so that you were both on your knees and you were straddling his lap.

Using his shoulders as leverage, you resumed the pace of dipping his still hard cock inside you, making you both groan in relief.

Ben helped you, gripping your hips to bounce you on top of him.

Soon enough, he grunted as that familiar tightening and heat of pleasure started to make his upward thrusts wild. He knew he was close…

And he snaked a hand between you to roll over your clit, making sure you were going to get there with him.

A deep tremble went through your lower belly, tightening your inner walls around him impossibly tight as you started to come. Then he followed, finally spilling up and into you.

His arms came around your waist like steel bands as you relaxed on top of him, panting for breath and holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

You gazed down into his eyes, and then his growing, triumphant smirk. It triggered your own wry smile.

And you had to wonder, What the hell did I just do?

AN: Was it as good for you as it was for me? 😏

But ok, seriously, I'm a bit self-conscious when it comes to writing smut, so I genuinely hope you enjoyed the ride lol.

(@waynes-multiverse You probably won't see this for a while, but our convo about the Brazilian wax made it into this chapter. 🤣)

Special Feature:

Check out this lovely moodboard created by @chernayawidow — specifically for this story!

I am obsessed:

She also takes requests, so just message her!

Next time:

You called his name again and took his face with both hands.

“Wherever you are in your mind right now, you’re here with me. Stay with me!” you raised your voice. His skin was getting really hot.

You gasped and had to let go of him when it threatened to burn you. His chest started to glow and hum. Your eyes widened, and finally, so did his.

Keep Reading: PART 8

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#until midnight #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 7 #zepskies writes

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year

Note

your yandere price was sooo good 😭

can i please request some yandere ghost? maybe reader is a young spec ops soldier who’s really damn good at their job and the typical obsessive behavior ensues but reader is a really stubborn and prideful person so they just fight against him at every turn

— Stubborn

Warnings: slight violence at the start, Ghost being angry, intense makeout scene (I tried!) And love confession.

A/N: Thank you!! Please enjoy this fic, and I may or may not be barking for this man ^^! This is also male reader. Hope that's okay :].

You're code-name is Cobra. While I thought it fit, in future fics, I may change it to a more gn name.

“I told you to stay in the goddamn post!”

His exploding voice echoed throughout the entire room. You flinched at his suddenly changed voice, watching the invisible steam come out of his back like a dragon ready to set fire to a poor village.

Angered. That was his emotion. He was shooting a sharp, repetitive scowl. He’s holding back, cracking his knuckles, hands clenching against one another before uttering something under his breath now and again.

It’s chilling — terrifying even.

Normally, he was quiet and nice with you — at least to some degree. But today you fucked up.

You watched him turn around, facing the big window in the room, admiring the midnight sky and moon. To some degree, it helps cool off the sweat on your body.

Or try to. It certainly did not help with the anger in the room.

Rolling your eyes, you got up from the chair beside the desk in the room, standing up behind him.

“I’m completely fine.” You raised your arms, dangling them around to show him that no cuts or even bruises were forming on your body. “We finished the mission. That’s all that matters, yeah?”

You heard him scoff, “All that matters?” He shifts on his feet, turning to look at you with a glare.

“I gave you an order. ” He stepped closer towards your direction. “A specific — detailed order to not engage unless I worded!”

With each word, he came forward until he was right in front of you, intimidating you with his darkened-brown eyes.

“I–” You started, before flopping your arms to the side in defeat. You looked at the ground before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered pathetically. You saw his eyes twitch — clearly not believing the word you gave out. “I did a stupid stunt. I’m sorry, Ghost.”

“Cobra!” You heard him scream at you, demanding you to turn back and return to your hidden spot. “Cobra! Get your bloody ass out of there!”

Indeed, Ghost ran a tight mission. But when it came out of line, he got extremely serious and violent.

“Keep them off my trail!” You yelled at the radio, hearing Soap curse on the other end. You fired your gun, emptying bullet after bullet into their skulls with near-perfect aim.

Although, without moving a muscle, you could hear his footsteps — thundering right behind you.

Before you knew it, you were pulled away into a random room with a very angry Simon. Legs growing in pain and a yelling leader in your face;

You were simply doing your job, right?

“Yet, you didn’t back out.” He growled, pointing a finger in your face harshly. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.” You sneered back. “You should be grateful I took them down — killed them all before they killed the hostages!”

“Shut it.” He snapped.

“Really? Why should I? I mean—” You scoffed, “Your the one who decided to come and grab me, push me away when I was alright!” You growled, poking a finger into his chest.

“Then fucking listen. It’s my job to make sure you’re breathing.”

“Really?” You ushered. “Cause if I didn’t do that, there would have been a bullet between all of their eyes!”

Suddenly, you were forced against the wall, watching his gaze tighten and his tattooed arm being pushed up against your neck. You jumped at the loud bang in your ears, mouth going dry.

You could practically hear Simon’s heartbeat — flaming in waves like lava rushing over land.

Your blood was boiling. Fists and legs tingling in frustration. Eyes narrowing in.

“I’m not scared of you, Simon,” You answered, “Wanna hit me? Don’t be a bitch about it.”

You stared into his eyes, hearing him breathe heavily before feeling his arm release you, resting right beside him. “You need to understand that you should come first.”

Your chest heaved, head pounding in adrenaline and annoyance.

“Then, we have two different views.” You rasped. Watching him lean back, his eyes staring into your soul. “My job is protecting people. And I’m damn good at it, so I’m not gonna stand here and let you shit me down.”

You heard him scoff. “Doing it stupidly isn’t protecting people.”

“Then why are you here, Simon?” You snarled, leaning forward to him. Though, you didn’t see him flinch or move an inch. Rather than letting you challenge him by getting in his personal space.

“You’re on some real thin ice, Cobra” He snapped.

You snickered, digging a finger at his chest. “Or what? You gonna hit me, L.T.? Go ahead, I’d love to see you try.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He angrily blurted out.

“Wha–”

He gripped your shoulders, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him. “You can congratulate yourself all you want. But you need to realize the team almost — I… almost lost you”

You couldn’t think, nor anticipate his next move. What did he mean by that damn sentence?

But when his hand on your shoulder was removed, rolling his mask upward, and revealing his scarred face. You were hotly flustered and surprised.

His chapped lips — scarred nose, eyebrows, and greased smoked paint around his eyes. His soulless, brown-marked eyes were staring down at you. Hell, even his browned hair was somehow styled and perfectly cleaned. What the actual fuck.

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered face, “Cat got your tongue?”

His other hand gripped your jaw, thumb caressing your chin, pulling you into a hypnotic haze.

Pulling his face closer to yours, you didn’t expect to see or feel his skin — his stubbled jaw, his lips against yours, swallowing your fury.

He tasted sweet, almost too sweet for an angry and dangerous man.

Moaning into the kiss, you felt a smirking plaster against his face. Fuckin’ teaser.

You couldn’t breathe — think properly by his addictive smell and taste. His scent was calming, a calm that wasn’t needed now.

His free hand grabbed your side, pulling you closer into the touched makeout, making you feel his chest heave into yours. Slowly, your hand raised, dragging your fingertips into his slick and semi-wet hair, locking them between your fingers.

Kissing him tenderly, you felt him stiffen — slightly unsure how to proceed with this… ‘debrief’

But, he welcomed it a second later, grasping your jaw as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your cavern. Earning a small whine, he departed himself from you with a trail of saliva.

Pulling away, you both looked like a mess; the two of you acted like you had an intense wrestling match, with hair slightly messed up, ragged breathing, and shaky gasps that certainly would be heard from outside the room.

Suddenly, Ghost grabs you, pulling you into his chest as your head rested against him, hearing his pounding heart and heavy breathing.

“I know you’re bloody good at your job. Jus’... never fucking do that again.”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling butterflies form in your stomach. “Didn't expect you to love me.”

You heard him mumble something, but from the shift on his feet, you already knew the answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

Content belongs to ©️ yandere-kokeshi only.

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0and0its0doctor0 · 1 year

Text

Hostage kisses

Aaron Hotchner X Fem! Reader

Warnings: None. Except Hotch has facial hair. I feel like that should be a warning. Because hot damn.

Summary: He didn't mean to kiss you....No that's a lie. He totally did.

Word Count: 272

Aaron’s huge hands were tight in your hair holding you close and all you could smell was him. He was earthy and a little sweet, just exactly what you expected him to smell like the very first second you met him. Honestly you never thought you would be here, pressed tight against your boss, his lips hesitantly pressing against yours, feeling his beard scratch against your cheek and chin. You had just been a part of a hostage situation and you honestly weren’t really expecting to make it out alive. But the sniper had managed to take out the person that was holding you hostage and Aaron quickly grabbed you, taking you away from the current situation and throwing you into a new one. He pulled away and looked down at you, you were just a puddle in his arms at this point. “Your lips are so soft. It’s like kissing a cloud.” He muttered, nuzzling his nose against yours and you tilted your head to the side with a smile. There was a scoff and you turned your head to see Derek standing there with Emily and Spencer and JJ, all 4 of them staring at you. “I mean. I’m glad you are okay.” The tone of his voice changed to total authoritarian but his hand on your lower back was still gentle and soft. “Shouldn’t you all be doing something?” He questioned. He helped you out of your bulletproof vest and if he guided you to his SUV for the ride home well no one else was going to say anything about him holding your hand the entire ride back.

#criminal minds fluff #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #fluff #fluffy #first kiss #criminal minds oc

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eddiemuonson · 7 months

Text

"Be Safe" - Anakin Skywalker x human f!Reader

Summary: You're an ordinary human fighting against the Sith alongside with Obi-Wan Kenobi. While being kept hostage by Anakin, you try to break down his armor of rage.

Notes: Crastyne is a fictional planet. I love the idea of energy and magnetic feelings 😭 Raging Anakin is so painful and making eye color transition is more painful!

Notes¹: Let me know if you all would like a part 2!!

Warning: Pretty much none, just a small fight scene, mention of injuries and a little fluff

Word count: 3.8k

next chapter

🪐🪐🪐

There is something about not being a Jedi or even any sort of galactical person that makes you fear going to wars to defend your own.

Even the slightest usage of the blaster makes you feel uncomfortable when you're around them, even if they're willing to protect you, knowing you can't protect yourself.

There's also a reason why you don't become a Jedi yourself, because they're specifically being extinct and you're not going to sacrifice yourself that way.

You were rethinking your life when you came to the realization that being amongst troopers from your group, blasting against mostly the Sith. One of them being Anakin Skywalker, who not only was once Palpatine's apprentice, but also the one who as leading the attack.

Behind Obi-Wan, you could barely see the incoming, as he made sure none of them got through you. But you were surrounded by a few Jedi's and could hardly be discovered as some ordinary woman.

You sure can use your black belt perks, because usually that's what you come up with when you're facing someone stronger. But maybe you couldn't use that to your favor if you were ever to stand in front of Anakin. It's not like Obi-Wan would ever let that happen.

You've thought this through every single day, he made sure he would stand by you all the way through. You had extra blasters if you needed to, even.

But nothing prepared you for the moment Skywalker came behind you, just in time for a few of his own took Kenobi away from you. You were face to face to the evil himself, he seemed to be seven feet tall compared to your size.

He grabbed you by the neck and raised you from the floor, not squeezing your skin just yet. His dilated pupils and red eyes were just staring intensely at you, that frown holding his gaze against you.

"Pathetic woman", he said as he was still holding you up. "How dare you come to this war against us and defend the Jedi?".

He wasn't even himself anymore, he was already been taken to the dark side. His glowing red eyes made sure you recognized that. He was still a good-looking guy, with pretty curly hair and fading blue eyes.

But corrupted. Corrupted by the man he was supposed to fight against. His fear of losing someone made him angrier. He was selfish, greedy and aggressive.

He didn't even have to see you through your helmet to know you're a woman, and he can sense your fear, which you disguised with repulse.

"You're not gonna win this fight", you held him by his wrists, knowing he was too strong to let go of. When he tried squeezing your neck, you wrapped your legs around his torso, shaking him down suddenly.

He tripped on his foot and you got rid of his grip. You blasted against him, but Anakin used his metal hand to shield himself and it ricocheted.

You ran only for a few feet and he insisted on tackling you down on the floor. He could've used his force against you, but he was willing to knock you down. Obi-wan was nowhere to be seen.

"You're such a petulant person. Your confidence is disturbing", Skywalker pulled you against his grip as he dragged you out of the fight, leading you to somewhere else.

You've realized he was taking you to Coruscant, where you learned it was the capital of the Republic. He got rid of your Trooper outfit and left you cuffed on his ship while he was piloting.

For the entire trip he didn't even say a word to you, only staring at you at some point, through his rearview.

When he arrived at the planet, he managed to still hold you hostage, mostly because that way he knew Kenobi would find you and save you from him.

It was his way of telling the Jedi their best Master got himself into a definite war against his enemy.

He dropped you in a cell, watching as you retracted yourself into a corner. It was only then you realized he was feeling confrontation with himself. He was still in an anger phase, which was slowly turning him into Vader.

His cold way of showing attitude, the dark shadow flickering against his eyes, made you see how much he was actually in pain inside.

After a while, which you had no idea how much time had passed, you could hear Anakin speak in a low tone with someone, probably Palpatine.

He would just agree and not say too many words, when you would hear his footsteps getting closer, you'd brace yourself.

But he actually never got near you anymore since he left you in the cell. You were starving, you were tense, you were tired and sleepy. There was only one sheet and a very uncomfortable pillow to lie on.

You tried contacting Kenobi using your mind and your feelings, but you only annoyed the newly Sith, who showed up not a minute later after your first try.

"If you try that one more time, I'll slice you up", he demanded. His voice was husky and held a deepness you've never heard before.

"Then do it, you'll never find him again", you responded. It actually made him become feral, trying to choke you with his force.

The advantage of him being so powerful is that he didn't need to get closer to you. He would just stand there and have you around his force.

He dropped you on the floor and you gasped for air. Your airway was almost crushed and it was harder to breathe now.

Anakin pointed his index finger at you, his red-blue eyes were so desperate for power. At the same time, it was showing off pain. Too much pain.

"Let go of that anger, Skywalker. You're in pain", you said before he could speak first. "Whatever happened to you, just let that go".

"You don't know shit about me", he retorted. You just woke the beast inside him. Anakin could be worse than he really shows when he's mad.

How was he so sure of that when more than half of the Universe has heard about him before? The once great Jedi apprentice who gave up on his good side.

You scoffed, making him wrinkle his forehead in response. "You were Obi-Wan's best apprentice, you know that? I've worked with him thousands of times before you raged. You don't know shit about me".

Anakin just examined you from head to toe. "We're bringing him. You're gonna watch him die".

You know you had to take this into consideration, but you were sure it would be impossible for Kenobi to stop it from happening.

"I don't need a lecture from an ordinary woman", his voice was bitter. He was trying to spell like he was throwing knifes, but it had a different tone for you.

"You're gonna choke on your own words, Lord Vader", you mocked him. He knew better than this that you were only doing it on purpose.

But Anakin didn't take sarcasm, or jokes. He didn't take any words that would actually involve himself. When he opened the cell and rushed to you, you flinched.

You flinched so hard he almost faltered. He punched the wall so hard it broke down entirely. The pieces of it almost falling above your head as he started to pant.

It was that moment you saw the mistake you've made, he lit up his red saber, the sword swinging in front of your face.

"Anakin, please", you begged. Your frowned face almost making a scrunch from the fear.

He still held that terrible gaze and he just stared into your soul. He could hear your heart beating fast, racing against your ears. He knew better than anyone that feeling.

He was struggling with himself, with his awful transition he couldn't get rid of. He could beat itself.

One moment of distraction and you captured it from his hand, running away while holding it. It was the stupidest idea you could've had. But it only helped you get through one of his rooms, which you had no idea where it led to.

You were thrown against the wall, feeling that excruciating pain piercing through your back. Anakin didn't seem too impressed by your action, but he made sure you would learn a lesson.

It burned differently than anything else, the saber was burning your skin until it was completely raw and the sound coming off of your mouth almost made him deaf.

He was too sensitive to sounds, as well. But it didn't shake him. You were now more tired than before, trying to collect yourself, almost begging for Obi-Wan to actually show up before you were dead.

He crouched in front of you, his eyes burning from anger. "You move again and I swear I'll kill you".

"You've said that before and did nothing", you retorted.

"I'm trying to spare you. I want Obi-Wan. I don't care about your stupid body, I want his", Skywalker was never one to explain his tactics, but you were slowing him down.

As Anakin started walking left and right, he studied you. He watched the way you would confront him even when you knew he was the most dangerous person to be around at this point.

He saw you agonizing in pain from the burn of his saber, which he was still holding while walking. He never left that frown on his face, the flickering of his eyes was distressing, you could never really know what he was possibly feeling besides anger and pain.

"You don't have to do this", you started, your voice barely coming out. "You were like a brother to him, you know that. How do you think your mother would feel if she was here?".

And then, instead of stabbing you with his saber, he just broke down on his knees, begging you to stop. It hurt him, it was the most painful thing to hear about. His mother was everything to him.

"What would she do if she knew you've become something you weren't supposed to, Anakin? Stop while you can", your voice echoed in his room and he was panting again.

"Stop", his voice failed against his mouth. "Stop!"

You couldn't be more right about that, he felt inside his guts. But he wasn't going to admit it, he was deeply involved with the Sith and now his body was only a vessel.

"You don't get to talk about my mother. Don't you ever say that again", he looked at you and you almost gasped at the sight of his eyes becoming yellow.

He was about to break down in tears, he was one step closer to feeling like Anakin again.

"Anakin, you need to remember her. You need to remember who you were before. It's going to consume you".

"Shut up!", he shouted at you. He was still on his knees, his knuckles supporting his hands on the floor. "Just.. shut up".

You saw the man becoming more fragile than he ever was. You noticed he let his guard down, surprisingly putting down his shield he used to use around himself.

The tears streaming down his cheeks were burning his skin, it tasted too salty on his lips. The lump in his chest quickly rising in his throat, making it harder for him to actually breathe.

"Please, stop", you could barely hear him pleading. He was surrendering himself.

He slipped and he fell into your trap. You managed to cross his evil shield and you made him miserable. He didn't know how he could actually be able to feel like he was Anakin again.

Everything inside him felt dark, empty. His head was void, emotionless. He had too much anger inside him, it made him blind. He was too greedy for power. The more power the better.

You carefully approched him and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, they were shuddering. You felt his body give in and shiver.

He actually felt warmth, apart from his cold hands and cold sweat, he was warm. His tears felt like waterfalls.

"Just leave before I change my mind", he said after a while, the room was so silent before that, not a single noise could be heard.

"Can you feel this?", you ask as you grip his hand tightly, firmly, crossing your fingers against his. The energy between your veins circulating, transmitting him a sensation of peace.

"This is what it feels like to be free from pain, anger. This is how you were supposed to feel like".

Skywalker was shaking, he could feel a different wave of serenity between his fingers, feeling your energy. He was almost absorving it for himself. It felt light, weightless. It tickled his inside.

He spent too much time gripping your hand, enjoying your energy. His eyes were becoming blue after a moment, the yellow almost fading.

He flinched his face and closed his eyes. He let go of your hand, getting up and held your arm, getting you up along with him.

He didn't say another word as he took you to a medical room and demanded the droids to bandage your burnt skin and give you food.

As you rested in a bed you saw him walking with a stiffened attitude, his eyes wandering across the giant window.

You would give all your money to know what he was actually thinking about, you couldn't ever know what he was going through, besides the honest pain and struggle, and anger mostly.

You ended up falling asleep while being taken care of, you were too tired and your body was giving up on the pain as well.

Only when you woke up you felt like you were being watched, and you thought one of the droids was still there taking care of you. As you slowly opened one your eyes, you saw him staring at you.

He was holding his arms crossed against his pumped chest, his face still frowned while he was leaning against the wall. His eyes were meerely blue anymore, a yellow gaze watching you.

"You should leave this place before Obi-Wan gets here", he demanded. His voice had a low husky tone. "I can't promise I won't kill him".

You were sort of dozy from the painkiller. You were trying to gather his words as you slowly sat up on the bed.

"I'll get the droids to watch over you while you get back".

Were you honestly awake or was it some kind of messed up dream you were having? That didn't sound like him at all honestly.

"Anakin, you gotta take care of yourself", you stated as you slowly got up from the bed, looking at him.

He was much taller than you, you have to raise your head to look at him. His frown was almost loose.

"Don't tell me what I should or should not do. I've made that clear before", he responded. His tone sent a shiver down your spine.

"Anakin", you raised you hand as you tried to approach his scarred face, but he was much faster and held your wrist tightly.

"Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that".

He was too hard to soften, not even Padmé would have been able to do so. You didn't know how you could manage to make him vulnerable before.

But again he had built up his walls and he was ready to use his shield against you. Other than that, he didn't break eye contact, he didn't twist your wrist.

But he still was a Sith. He still had anger inside him. Your gaze was comforting, it transmitted peace. With your other hand you cupped his jawline, you traveled your finger against his biggest scar.

Your soft, warm hand felt like shockwaves on his skin. Your heard as he let out a heavy sigh, like he was fighting against his feelings.

Skywalker let go of your wrist, not touching you or getting away from your touch.

"I know there's good in you", you say as you make a trail with your fingertips on his cheek. He looked away from you, closing his eyes almost squinting them.

"No", he was too reluctant. He was feeling his blood boiling immediately. "No".

"Please, look at me", you tried to tame him. He didn't look at first.

When you locked your other fingers through his flesh hand, he almost gasped. It felt like heaven for a moment.

He gave in, and it first scared you. His eyes, as red as fire, his pupils were dilated and it was so intimidating. It was hard to look at him that way.

You must have gone mad, but when you pecked his trembling lips you felt your heart almost jump out of your throat. You felt his hand grip your waist so tight it was gonna leave a bruise.

You didn't move your lips, you didn't deepen that kiss. Hell, you didn't even move your body too scared he would back out. And it felt good like that.

He must have felt like that too, Anakin didn't push you away. He didn't flinch. When he felt your skin against his hand, he almost let out a groan, but he was holding himself off.

He was on the verge of snapping out of his mind. Skywalker felt his brain collapse and something inside him melted down. His veins were pumping his blood faster than ever.

You opened your eyes for a slight second, realizing he was looking intensively at you, his brows were furrowed. But what really shocked you was how deep blue his eyes were.

They were blue like the ocean, they were bright like the sky. They flickered with the sudden emotion washing over him. You broke from his lips and gave him an honest side smile.

He gave you nothing, because he was probably as shocked as you. He only then noticed what had happened to him when you tried to touch his face again and this time he backed out.

It pinched your heart, but it was actually expected. He moved away from you, looking tormented and stunned as he didn't even look at you when he left the medical room.

When he came back, he was holding folded clean clothes and left them at the bed. He warned the droids they were going to take you back to where you came from.

It didn't exactly make sense for you the way he reacted to your kiss, but you understood it. He was too conflicted to really know how to deal with it. And his self defense was to push you away.

"I'll let Obi-Wan know you're going back. Don't you try and make him come after me". Anakin was almost back to his normal self.

He managed to not make eye contact with you, but it slipped and he tried to look away. Your gaze at him burned his entire body.

It if keeps happening he's gonna lose it. And God, you wanted it to happen so bad.

You just nodded, getting ready to leave the building. It was making you feel so bad for leaving him alone but he wanted to be alone.

He like being by himself. He didn't want company. He didn't need company.

You didn't even have the chance to say a goodbye, because he made sure he was gone before you left. He just honestly didn't want to see you.

Inside the ship, you made sure you asked the droids to take care of him. If they obeyed and listened to him, maybe they could listen to you as well.

"Please, look after him. And if you need to, just let Obi-Wan know", your voice was almost desperate.

They seemed to agree and treated you nicely after all. Weirdly nice, to say the least. Usually their droids were built to kill people like you.

When you arrived at Crastyne, Obi-Wan was already there waiting for you and gave you the most desperate and the tightest hug. He almost crushed your bones.

It was so good to see him there, to actually feel his arms around you. He smelled like mud, but you weren't going to question.

"It's so good to see you alive, (Y/N)". He noticed your injury, and quickly changed his composure. "Are you hurt anywhere else?". You shook your head.

"He burned my skin with his saber, but that's all?", you tried to sound like it was a normal thing. But coming from Skywalker it was definitely not.

"He didn't try to kill you?". Kenobi was more confused than you were. And again you shook your head.

"He actually wanted to use me as bait, he wanted you to go there. He wanted to kill you there".

He was trying to gather your words. He wouldn't expect Anakin to actually do that, he should've seen that coming.

"But there was an overturn. I'll explain it later. I wanna take a shower, rest".

He nodded and you left with him, he was going to make sure you were safe for now. He was going to watch over you for the next few days.

But deep inside you weren't worried about yourself, you weren't worried about your safety. You were so hopelessly worried about him. You had no idea how he was going to deal with himself after that.

You weren't even sure he would be able to consider what happened between you two. You just hoped you could find him, meet him again.

Skywalker, on the other hand, couldn't make himself sleep. He was relentlessly playing your words and touch over and over in his head.

The sweat streaming down his spine was cold and harsh. His breath was out of rhythm, making it hard to come out of his throat.

What have you done to him, he thought as he couldn't wrap his mind around the mixed feelings surrounding him.

It was so hard for him to process how you reacted to his threatening, to his deep sharp gaze against you. And yet you didn't run away from him, you didn't fear him, you didn't flinch.

His metal hand crushed another wall, and he let out the most feral and loud groan. He was panting loudly, his vision was distorted.

He couldn't let you get through him like that. He couldn't let himself let you in like that. Either he keeps helping the Sith or he drops down his armor.

This energy thing is pretty intense, you think. You can't seem to sleep either, both of you connected by a feeling that keeps wandering through your veins.

It's like it's keeping you both magnetized, even through miles and miles apart.

"Be safe, Anakin", you wish while trying to calm your brain down.

Skywalker was still sitting on the corner of his bed, his arms resting against his knees while he was holding his head with both hands.

A fading voice echoing inside his brain woke him from his messed thoughts. "Be safe, Anakin".

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin imagine #star wars fanfic #hayden christensen imagine #userjasmine #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 1 year

Text

A rat’s nest

Summary: Quaritch gets tired of Spider’s inability to properly take care of his hair and decides to give them a proper wash. (Based on a quick idea I wrote a couple weeks ago)

There it was again, that horrible stench. It has only been three days but Spider’s hair smelled like he hasn’t given them a wash in years, which is strange because Quaritch made sure to tell him to shower regularly.

And yet, the boy was never truly clean and it began raising serious concern not only in Miles, but in all the recoms. They weren’t close to that feral kid but his hair looked suspiciously matted. Didn’t he have dreads since the ripe age of seven? Why was he so bad at taking care of them?

“Spider, get your ass in the shower right now.” colonel sounded more irritated than usual, which agitated the teen, “Can’t you tell you’re stinking up the place?”

Some kind of hurt in Spider’s eyes made Quaritch’s face soften ever so slightly, but he didn’t budge and so, his estranged son hissed and disappeared behind the bathroom doors. This time though, Miles stayed in the main room, waiting on a couch that faced the corridor and saw something was deeply wrong when Spider exited that place after only three minutes.

The stench was still present.

Did he seriously just stand under the shower for a couple minutes and call it a day? It was getting ridiculous.

“Woah woah woah you call that showering??” Miles got up from the couch and approached.

“Wh-what’s your goddamn problem?!” Spider snapped back with one of many new insults he learned while being held hostage for the past several weeks.

“My problem? This is about you, boy! You tryna collect the entire periodic table in there?” He pointed at the wet dreads accusingly. “Go back in there and give that rat’s nest a scrub. I don’t want to see you for at least a quarter, understood?”

Spider didn’t answer, only snarled in irritation before turning to the bathroom and releasing his anger on the doorway button, slamming it and forcing two steel doors close.

Quaritch rolled his eyes at his kid’s petty tantrum. Teenagers.

But then five minutes passed and colonel heard no noise come out of the washroom. Jesus, don’t tell me he’ll just fucking sit in there now, he thought, annoyed, lazily getting up from the couch and walking up to the bathroom once more. Why does he always feel the need to throw a hissy fit about taking basic care of himself?

“You alright in there, kid?” He knocked.

“FUCK OFF!” Had emerged from the other side.

Something in Spider’s voice sounded broken, and Miles’s initial anger slowly faded as concern found it’s way back into his stomach.

“I’m coming in!” He warned, and upon hearing no response, pressed the doorway button and went in.

Spider stood stock-still, very much dressed, and holding two bottles. One of them was hair conditioner and the other…

“What the hell do you need that for?” The blue man promptly grabbed a bottle out of Spider’s hand.

“To wash myself, duh?”

“With a tile cleaner?!” He turned the bottle, revealing an illustration of a bathroom tile and sink being scrubbed with a sponge. “Where’d you even get that?”

Spider’s cheeks turned pink from embarrassment and he pointed to the storage area under the sink. Quaritch stared at him for what felt like years before opening his mouth, closing it again, and only then finally finding words to speak.

“Spider….” He sighed deeply “That storage is for cleaning chemicals, as in chemicals for floors, windows, all that. You don’t use any of those on your skin or hair, got it?” He spoke calmly and clearly, wanting to hammer the point in.

“Right, yeah, of course.” Spider was trying to play it cool, like he knew it, just forgot, but Quaritch could clearly see his face growing progressively redder as his eyes averted to the floor.

“Y’know what? i’ll do it.”

Upon hearing that though, all color immediately drained from the boy’s body.

“Sit down, I’ll wash your hair and the rest you can do on your own.”

Some of the color came back, but Spider wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Are you kidding me?? I’m not five, I can do it on my own!” He stepped away from the man, offended.

“You can’t and we both know it.” The Na’vi plainly called out Spider’s bluff, taking off his black boots and cuffing his pants as well as the sleeves on his sweatshirt. “C’mere boy, I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’ll only do it once to show you how, that’s it.”

After a long pause and hard consideration, Spider ultimately gave in and rolled his eyes, cautiously stepping forward and then sitting at the edge of the shower area, on a border that separated it from the rest of the room.

Quaritch proceeded to take a stool, grabbed one of the bottles off the shelf and then the shower head, turning it on and giving Spider’s dreads a good, long soak.

“Aren’t you gonna wash them?” The kid asked, growing impatient. He didn’t feel like being in Miles’s presence more than he absolutely needed to.

“Shush.” Was the only response he got.

Now, after that part was over Quaritch poured shampoo onto his palm and, facing a horrid mess in front of him, took a deep breath and began rubbing the liquid in, gently making his way to Spider’s scalp through the dirt and-is this a dried leaf??

“Jesus christ…” He mumbled.

“…It’s not that bad..” Spider responded defensively, but this time there was no response at all.

And then the boy flinched as he felt something touch his head directly “What the—“

“Relax kid it’s just me.” That did nothing to rid The teen of shuddering at the uncomfortable feeling, his eye slightly twitching.

“Are you trying to clean my skull??”

“The roots need to be clean or you’ll end up catching something nasty.” Miles explained “I’m surprised you haven’t already.” He muttered the second sentence, but Spider caught it nonetheless and was about to respond, when something else caught his attention.

Water that ran down the drain was brown, quite literally. More dirt than water-were those leaves?? The kid’s eyes widened in horror at the sight.

“Eywa..”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Upon properly rinsing the mop of hair after several minutes, Spider expected Quaritch to leave him to his duties but confusion painted his face when the Na’vi simply poured more shampoo and continued rubbing it in, turning boy’s head to face the wall. Shame formed an invisible lump in his throat once again when he saw that the water was still brown when Miles began rinsing for the second time but on the other hand, the process itself began feeling more and more relaxing.

Minutes went by, and the steady sound of warm water, as well as big hands washing away at his hair, began lulling Spider into a pleasant trance.

He leaned back into Quaritch’s hands, and allowed himself to doze off just a bit, a tiny smile spreading on his lips. The longer he sat there, the more his troubles seemed to fade away with the water. It felt nice to be taken care of once in a while, he admitted. Sue him.

A good twenty minutes passed as Quaritch too, had sort of fallen into a rhythm, massaging the boy’s scalp and humming old pop-songs that most people would not even remember. He was a boomer at heart, what could he do.

And in the end, it took about four rounds of shampoo and conditioner for the stench to release its grip on Spider’s dreads. Pleased with the results, Quaritch stood, surprising Spider.

“Alright, the worst is over. Now just take that washcloth and scrub this” he took another bottle off the shelf, liquid inside looking transparent and smelling like fruit. “On until your skin feels softer, got it?”

“Got it”

“Great, just don’t overdo it, kay? Take your time and for god’s sake take this thing off. There are clean clothes in that cabinet, next to the towels.” He pointed at teen’s loincloth and reluctantly, he nodded in agreement.

Sighing in relief, Quaritch nods and leaves the bathroom.

Oh shit, he thought, looking at his clothes. He got completely soaked and somehow didn’t even notice. He must have gotten too caught up in that moment of being able to take care of Spider without him hissing or pushing him away, and a small part of him, a small area in his black, unbeating heart sung at the newly-made memories.

There was a smile spreading on colonel’s face as he recalled Spider visibly giving up on being tough, relaxing into his touch and zoning out, letting down his walls for just a moment as his shoulders slumped.

He’d only ever see Spider like that when he was asleep but even then, his face would often contort into a frown because of nightmares. He had them quite often.

Miles began thinking.

At first, it made sense that the boy had no idea what a shampoo is. After all, he grew up in the forest, right?

But then the marine had recalled Spider mentioning being raised by scientists who used to work at hell’s gate.

And after that, he recalled that if Na’vi were anything, it’s clean. They had routines, knew how to wash themselves and he had yet to meet one that stank anywhere near as badly as his son. It was strange to say the least.

And then, he recalled other small details of Spider’s behaviour. The way he’d often, not just today, but always, ever so slightly ease into Miles’s touch despite claiming to hate him. The way he automatically assumed, on their first expedition together, that recoms brought no food or water for him, and would forage for it without complaint until Quaritch showed him that it was taken care of. The way he’d drink up whatever praise he got from his estranged father and the members of his squad, visibly shying away, despite trying very hard to hide it behind scoffs and eye-rolls.

But Colonel Quaritch had a sharp eye. No micro expression or glance escapes him, and so he kept all these behaviours in the back of his mind. Behaviours that didn’t seem too out of the ordinary on their own but put together, painted a frightening image.

It dawned on him, why he felt so concerned for the feral brat.

Spider was a textbook example of a neglected child.

A someone who only could depend on themselves. A someone who’s support system was either shaky or entirely nonexistent.

At that revelation, Quaritch stopped only a foot away from the doorway into his room, wet clothes now being the least of his concerns.

Spider said he was raised “more by a community than like, one or two people” as he put it, and now it fell into the puzzle.

Sullys were the closest thing he had to a family, there was no other reason for him to be this loyal to them, but it made no sense. Why would a loving family neglect a human kid? If anything he should have been the one smothered with affection since his inability to breathe made him practically disabled-

And then a second realisation hit him like an arrow to the heart, as it dropped.

Miles Socorro.

Why of course, how did he not realise it earlier? They ostracised him because of his name and blood, it was the only answer Quaritch could find.

But it felt so…incredibly petty. That kind of behaviour is something colonel would expect of middle schoolers, but not grown adults.

His blood began boiling. Running hot under his skin as he seethed and his breath hitched.

Petty, petty bastards. How could they abuse a child in such manner? For something he could not control? Spider was a goddamn angel; nothing like his old man, and yet they rejected him. Discarded him like he was damaged goods on arrival.

But even then he was desperate to crawl back to them, because they’re all he had. All he thought he had.

Miles’s head almost snapped when he turned 180 degrees to see his son exit the bathroom in comfy clothes, drying his dreads and wearing a big, glowing smile on his face. The smell was gone completely, now replaced with a sweet scent of plants and fruits and by god did Spider look adorable as he took in the feeling of being clean. His grin only widened when a small group of recoms entered the dormitory after their lunch break and, upon seeing Spider, practically drowned him in praise and complements.

“Well I’ll be damned, the ugly duckling finally turned into a swan~” cooed Z-dog, smirking as her tail flickered.

“Poor kid’ll have to chase the ladies away with a stick!” Lyle chuckled and ruffled Spider’s hair, golden locks soft to his touch.

Spider kept rolling his eyes, giggling and telling them to shut their asses up but his cheeks were practically on fire. It was the good kind of embarrassment though, he didn’t mind this weird, new feeling.

So there Quaritch stood, looking at his son from the other end of the corridor, remaining unnoticed by the crowd further down, and as he took in that precious smile, he made a promise.

He would kill Sully, would rip his spine out with his bare hands, will help terraform the planet.

But he’ll do it for him first and foremost. Because that’s exactly what Spider deserved.

He deserved the world.

Author’s note: I’ve spent days trying to finish this first proper drabble of mine so I hope y’all liked it 😭💅 plz tumblr algorithm don’t let this flop 🥺

If you got any questions, ideas or prompts on a avatar characters, let me know in the ask box!

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar spider #avatar headcanons #avatar way of water #spider socorro #miles quaritch #miles spider soccoro #recom quaritch #avatar quaritch #spider avatar #avatar miles quaritch #spider soccoro #miles socorro #na’vi quaritch #avatar lyle #lyle wainfleet #z dog

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cemoras27-but-writing-this-time · 1 year

Text

Danny's Evil Jaunt. It's Evil He Swears. Ignore the Charity pt. 1

Hi! its me again. I saw this prompt thing on @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 and it had me in a choke hold and held me hostage until I wrote it. Its where Danny becomes a supervillain using his machines instead of his ghost powers! Have Fun!

AO3: Here

EDIT: the text color should be fixed now I think let me know if it isn’t

“Hello Daniel,” Clockwork greeted Danny as he entered the Clocktower with wringing hands. The young halfa had been incredibly stressed ever since Dan, hiding any perceived negative emotion in his attempts of the best timeline. An appreciated thought and effort, however more harmful than the boy anticipated. Perhaps he should listen more to that sister of his a bit more.

“Heey Clocky, um I just-”

“You're worried about Dan.”

“Yeah. I was. I just- just want to make sure that things are still looking good y’know!” Danny said, arms flaring out to his sides dramatically. “I’ve been behaving! I haven’t lashed out at anything. Haven’t even pranked Dash or his friends!”

“Daniel,” Clockwork turned from the timeline he was observing.

“What’d I do?” Danny’s eyes filled with palpable panic.

“Nothing. However, suppressing your emotions will do nothing but cause harm to those around you and yourself. Come.” The shifting ghost laid a hand upon Danny’s thin shoulder, and led them to a small table that Danny wasn’t entirely sure was there moments before. There was a small tea set he noticed as the baby Clockwork set Danny in the comfy chair. “However, I think I may have a solution. A way for you to ‘lash out’ as much as your core can handle.” Danny’s eyes glisten in interest; similar to those stars he adores so much. “I will take you to a different realm, similar to your home, and you may concoct as much havoc as you wish. I will pause the time in your home so that you may continue your life as you want. All I ask is that you truly allow yourself to let your emotions run their course, else I worry for the future.”

“What? Like a rage room? Like the ones that they give you a bat and let you go ham? That sounds cool…”

“I suppose that is a fair comparison. I won’t allow any consequences to come to you either. It is supposed to be therapeutic after all. All you must do is let me know and I will give you access to the realm.” Clockwork grinned, blue hands -now old- creaking around the teacup that he filled at some point.

“You sure nothing bad will happen? What if I-”

“Nothing of the sort will happen. If you need guidance I and others will be happy to lend you a hand. Though now that I have you here, how are your lessons with Wulf going? Have you successfully made a portal?” Danny perks.

“They're going good! I actually made one to come here. I like how Wulf teaches,” the half-ghost chimes, an airy quality unknowingly weaving its way into his voice. His Espernato is getting better the Keeper of Time notes, enough for it to slip into regular conversation. How nice.

They talk for a while after that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny stares at the small hole in reality, an adult Clockwork stands beside him and takes the first steps forwards.

“Beyond this portal is the realm where you may do as you wish. You may take as long as you like, and the consequences will not apply to you. Again all I wish is for this to be therapeutic. Your sister gave you quite the monologue, didn't she?” The old time piece drones, stepping to the side to allow access to the portal and gestures for Danny to step through.

On the other side is an open field. The grass is yellowing in the lowering temperatures as the familiar autumn chill flows through them. Clockwork emerges from behind him.

“We are close to a rather large city, Star City I believe, home to several heroes. You can open portals consistently now yes?”

“Yeah! Thanks again Clocky, this- this means a lot y’know” Danny stammers.

“Of course Daniel. I am here to guide. Please let me know how you find your visit.”

“Are you ever gonna call me Danny?” He only gets a small smile before Clockwork floats back into the portal - it closes- and he is left alone.

Danny turns and takes a deep breath in, and starts to think as he heads towards ‘Star City’. What should he even do? He thinks hard before coming to the conclusion that, if he became evil by holding in his emotions, then why couldn’t he just be evil while feeling. Why not let his anger and disappointment and sadness run amok? After all, there are no consequences here! But he doesn’t want to be Phantom, as much as he loves being Phantom, he's so tired of the consent ghost attacks and being shot at by ecto-guns.

The halfa takes a small break and sits by the dirt road he had been following, maybe it was time for Danny Fenton to do something. He was a Fenton! His parents built a portal to Hell in their basement using household Items, sure he wasn’t as book smart as Jazz or a techie like Tuck, but he could whip up something he's sure!

With newborn vigor Danny sets off again while drawing up his plans.

A world where he could do anything he wants. The world is a big place. He wonders if Dani would want to visit.

Tag list: I saw that some people wanted to be tagged if anyone wrote something

@amuseofminds @roseinbloom02 @starkcravingmad @little-pondhead

sorry victoria-has-no-secret I can't seem to tag you correctly

#dp x dc #sorry if its formated weird i will try to fix it #also im not good at tagging so if it is wrong please tell me #propted #I cant change the color of text back to normal on desktop im sorry #Cem's writing

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borahaerhy · 1 year

Text

Regime (Teaser) | myg

Pairing: Ringleader!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is dull. Your job, your hobbies, your downtime: everything is just dull. That is, until your workplace is raided by the anti-capitalist organization run by the notorious Agust D.

Series Warnings: anti-capitalism! mental illness, some gang violence, unaliving, smut, hella angst, drug/alcohol usage, very fowl language

Teaser Warnings: READER IS A BADASS, y/n uses all the self-defense, quite literally bites a chunk out of someone's hand, everyone has a gun, there are a few hostages, Yoongi kicks someone in the face, y/n very casually holds a gun to someone's head, refrences to y/n's childhood being... interesting (relatives' drug usage breifly mentioned)

Wordcount: 689

Note: I have no idea where this is gonna go, might just leave it at this, might make it a oneshot, might fuck around and make it a series I have no idea, lmk your thoughts though :)))

It was odd.

The parking lot of your job being completely empty had only happened on one other occasion that you could recall; and that was because it was Easter, and everyone had gone home early.

But today was different. It wasn’t a holiday, and there should have been plenty of work to get done; yet there was no one. Not a single car in the parking lot. As you drove past, you turned your attention to the side of the building, where the security parked. You pulled into the space beside the empty car of one of your coworkers, Nick.

But it’s ten minutes until shift change; first shift should still be here. Did Nick let them leave early for some reason? Aside from yours and Nick's, there was only one other car in the entire lot. A black SUV parked haphazardly beside Nick's car; and it was still running.

While all of this might scream “danger” to others that would have seen it, to you, while it was weird, that's all it was: weird. It’s a relatively small company; one where there were so few employees that they were all friends. Everyone knew everyone and they often all liked to fuck with one another, maybe this was just some kind of prank.

While the company was small, it was also one that had no problem fucking over it’s employees when it comes to their paychecks; even whenever the company execs wanted to come in and check the place out, they certainly never would’ve listened to any complaints about pay.

You cautiously walked up to the door and punched in the pin before you opened the door and stepped in. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you walked into something you definitely wished you hadn’t.

Tied up in the middle of the floor was the supervisor for the building, Kevin, and the guy supposed to work your shift with you, Nick. They were completely surrounded by men in black, all with guns pointed at their heads. Kevin looked like he just got into a fight and lost; blood covering his face and his nose was crooked, while Nick had a swollen lip. In front of them there was just one man, but as soon as your eyes had adjusted to the dark building, all of them were looking at you.

Seconds after you walked in, your arms were pinned behind your back and a hand covered your mouth. “Just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere for a second, I have to deal with this asshole before I talk to her,”

While as a security officer, you hadn’t been trained in any kind of combat, you did grow up with uncles. A lot of them, and they would all get varying levels of high and various substances and decide that you needed to know how to defend yourself.

So while the man that spoke, the one standing in front of Nick and Kevin, kicks Nick in the chin - no doubt knocking out a few of his teeth - you stamped down on the foot of the man behind you and bit a chunk of flesh from his hand clean off. He screamed, letting go of you so you could turn around and knee him in the groin as one of your hands took the gun out of his side holster and held it to his head.

You stood beside him, facing the group of people with one hand holding the gun to his head while the other was up, level with your head to show you weren't armed more than what they could see. You spit out the chunk of flesh that you still had in your mouth, mostly for dramatic effect, and slowly moved your free hand down to wipe the blood from your lips.

Everyone was staring at you, even the boss was staring at you with a kind of intensity that would’ve been hard for anyone to withstand. “You can finish whatever you were doing, I’m not going anywhere, I just don’t really like people touching me,”

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dcartcorner · 7 months

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the old men have my brain cell and are holding it hostage. couldn't sleep and so decided to write another little thing. standard disclaimer that writing is not my forte, i just really enjoy these character. sorry if there any mistakes! gonna post on ao3 later.

A Business Proposal Characters: Simon Fairchild, Peter Lukas Ship: FoggySkies Warnings: none

Peter did not know what part of him expected Simon to be punctual.

That was just how Simon was - in with the tide and gone with the wind, but with no rhyme nor reason to his comings and goings other than his own fancy, which itself could change on a whim.

Peter sighed, neither happy nor angry. Simply resigned to the fact that he was there and Simon was not. In many ways, that was preferable.

The Tundra was docked at Porto do Itaqui, the bar in São Luís was busier than it had been earlier - when that person came in, looking for work. Or perhaps it had always been that busy, and Peter hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t cared to notice. Whatever the case, he was aware of it now, the heat and the bodies, and his wishing for morning to come quicker so that he might be out on the sea once more.

But of course the blasted man was late to his own meeting, leaving Peter there, waiting.

Ten more minutes, he promised himself, finishing the mug of coffee in front of him. Ten more minutes, and he’d leave, and return to the Tundra.

An hour later, Simon stumbled into the bar. He looked… windswept, which was very much like him, Peter reflected. Simon spotted Peter and his smile widened, and as light on his feet as ever, he made his way through the crowd.

“You’re late,” Peter made a point of telling him.

“Yes. Terribly sorry,” Simon replied as he pulled out a chair next to the captain and sat himself down in a careless motion, crossing one leg over the other and leaning closer to Peter. Though not too close - never too close. He seemed to know, Peter thought. Seemed to recognize that there was an invisible barrier there, separating Peter from him, and it was always up for Peter to decide whether or not to cross it. “Got swept up in something. Have you ever been parasailing? There was this lovely couple from… Hmm. Honestly, I can’t remember! Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, so there I was, enjoying a nice day out on the beach, and I overheard…”

And so Simon spoke. And Peter didn’t listen, not really. That was how it was, a lot of the time. Simon spoke at such length, so frequently, that oftentimes Peter found himself drifting off into a comfortable fog, nodding along without really taking anything in. It was something… he was trying to get better at. He picked up little things, here and there - heard the delight in Simon’s voice when he told Peter of that poor couple’s fate. He found himself thinking about what it might be like - to be up there, all alone, with nothing but clouds and the whole of humanity laid out before him. Distant specks of civilization, and him entirely apart from it. It would be nice, he thought. And, as he contemplated that wonderful loneliness, courtesy of the Falling Titan, Simon continued to speak. And Peter continued to nod absentmindedly, losing himself in the motion of it.

He was not sure when the drink appeared in front of him, only that it was there when he blinked and dragged himself back into the moment. How much time had passed? He did not know, but turning his eyes towards Simon, found the other man had, at some point, stopped speaking. He was leaning against the table now, scanning the crowd, a comfortable smile in its usual place. Peter picked up the drink, glancing at the two in front of Simon.

It was nice.

The drink and… Simon’s company. It was a thought that prickled not entirely unpleasantly at a spot near the back of his skull, against his urge to isolate. Simon never tried to make anything more out of them than what they were. His mind was… drawn towards the bigger picture, and Peter knew that he himself did not fit into it. That no one did. And that itself, he thought, was quite isolating indeed. He smiled into the drink as he took another sip.

His movement caused Simon to look over at him. There was red in his cheeks, though Peter could not have said if it was from the drink or the day out in the sun, under the sky.

“Why did you want to meet, anyway?” Peter asked.

If he could have seen Simon’s eyes behind the dark glasses that covered them, he would have seen the way that they lit up like they did when he was scheming - plotting something that Peter knew would cost a small fortune. Simon Fairchild never did anything understated. Like everything else, money did not matter to him.

Simon turned in his seat, tucking one leg under the other as he clapped his hands together mischievously. “I’ve had a thought. An idea. For a business venture. One I thought might interest you.” Peter said nothing and allowed Simon to go on, explaining.

About the island - best place for cage diving off the coast of Mexico. The only way to get to it was to charter a boat overnight. Simon explained it. The possibilities. Offering an exclusive experience to some unsuspecting soul. And perhaps said soul would find itself stranded on that charter, all alone, for a day or two, caught in an unlikely sea fog. Perhaps when it came time to go down, down, into the depths to see the great beasts, there would be nothing but emptiness below, and the distant rays of sunlight forgotten above.

By the time Simon had finished the proposal, Peter found himself hungry. He would admit… it did sound… fun. Or, at the very least, not a colossal waste of time and money, as were so many of Simon’s schemes. He pointedly avoided thinking about the Daedalus by very much thinking about the Daedalus. Though he supposed that was, in large part, Rayner’s influence.

The thought of Rayner… twisted up in him uncomfortably. He ignored whatever that feeling might have been, but could not stop himself asking, “And will Rayner be a part of this one as well?”

Simon shook his head breezily. “No, no,” he assured Peter. If Simon thought anything of the question, there was no hint of it in his voice. He moved as swiftly on from the question as he did everything else. “I can see to the particulars of it all. All you’d have to do is show up.”

Peter hummed in approval of both statements. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Wonderful!” Simon’s smile broadened as he lifted his drink. “Here’s to us, then, and to the enterprise,” he said.

Peter clinked his glass carefully against Simon’s, and they drank. Two more rounds, and Peter let the silence between the two of them breathe. Lengthen. Let himself slip away from it all.

The bar had only become more crowded as the night went on and was beginning to press on him by the time someone approached their table. A young sort, with two drinks in hand. Peter did not hear what he said to Simon as he put one of the drinks down on the table, and leaned in, looming over Simon.

That same twisting feeling yanked this way and that inside of his chest. Peter didn’t like the man’s smile. Nor the way Simon rested his elbow on the table and played along, the way he put his hand gently down on the stranger’s and laughed at something the stranger said.

“Do you need something?” Peter asked suddenly. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the way Simon’s gaze slid over to him with a tilt of his head.

The young man turned towards him, eyes widening as if in surprise to find someone else at that table. He stammered out an apology - he didn’t realize, he didn’t see that… sorry, he didn’t think that anyone else was…

Peter’s smile was cold. “We all make mistakes,” he told the stranger. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to reflect on it.”

And then the stranger was gone.

Simon chuckled lightheartedly though Peter didn’t quite understand the humour of it. He stood from the table and grabbed Simon’s wrist, and yanked him up out of the chair and began to haul him towards the door. That twisting feeling began to dissipate as they stepped out into the night and to an empty street - one that should have been buzzing with a late night crowd. Towards the docks through the sudden fog. Simon simply hummed compliantly. It sounded pleased, Peter thought. Towards the docks, towards the shape of the Tundra that towered over them. Up the gangway. By the time they reached the cabin, there was nothing left of the twisting.

When he woke the next morning to prepare to leave port, the bed next to him was empty. Unlike Simon to be up so early, Peter observed, but under such circumstances, that could be expected. He must be excited about this venture of his. Of theirs. The sheets were rumpled and the pillow still harboured the ghost indentation of the head that had rested there. He pulled himself out of bed to get ready.

As he made his way to the coffee machine, he found a pot already brewed, a mug waiting next to it. Peter smiled, and poured himself a cup.

#tma #the magnus archives #fanart #simon fairchild #peter lukas #foggyskies #fic

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matan4il · 4 months

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Daily update post:

One of the worst, most disgusting anti-Israel lies about Oct 7, is that the IDF is responsible for the civilian deaths on that day, not Hamas. One version took one article, that mentioned some civilians at the Nova music festival might have been shot by a battle helicopter. This was used to claim all or most of the victims were killed by the IDF. Things to note about this, which I've mentioned before, are that currently, 367 civilian victims have been identified at this scene. "Some" is not how you would refer to all or most of 367 people. You'd use a stronger term. Another thing is the question mark mentioned in the article, which the anti-Israel crowd ignored. At the time, I also mentioned the various states of undress in which the female victims were found, piles of naked and half-naked women, something no battle helicopter can be responsible for. Now I can add two things to the debunking.

One is an official police statement about this, which is relevant, since the article the anti-Israel crowd used, was supposedly quoting a police source. The police made it clear that their investigation of the Nova music festival, was an appraisal of their own activity, while the battle helicopter is an army one, therefore their report didn't actually look into that.

The second thing is that on Oct 7, Israel only had two (!) battle helicopters ready to launch, and they were stationed at the Ramat David air base, which is in the north, while Hamas' massacre was in the south. The two helicopters were roughly 212 kilometers away from the site of the music festival slaughter. Under the best circumstances, it would take the helicopters about an hour to get from their base to the massacre site. And things don't work optimally, when the Hamas terrorists destroyed Israel's cameras, and took over the command base, which could direct forces effectively. In fact, in the above link (sorry, again a piece only available in Hebrew), they also interview the officer who was directing the helicopters on Oct 7, and he said that helicopters are only efficient when someone from the ground directs their activity, but there was no one on the ground that could do that. In other words, by the time the helicopters showed up, and tried to react to over 3,000 terrorists having invaded Israel, through more than 30 points along the border, and spreading out across numerous massacre sites, there is no way these two helicopters could explain away the majority of the civilian victims.

Remember the terror tunnels in Gaza? Remember the underground headquarters? The IDF now has enough control in Gaza City, to be able to expose the network that connects all of these together, which terror tunnel is hidden inside which civilian building. An entire underground city, completely dedicated to carrying out terrorist activity, and not a single bomb shelter, to protect the civilians in Gaza. THAT is how you hold 2 million Palestinians as human shields. There's even a tunnel building workshop, exposed by the IDF:

youtube

These are Iris Cahim, and her son Yotam:

He was one of the three hostages accidentally killed by the IDF. Iris had a message for the soldiers, that Yotam's family doesn't blame them, that she knows it's not their fault, and that at that moment they did the best they could, and that she and the family are waiting for their visit if they want to come, because she wants them to know how supported they are.

The girls in the pic below were observers at the Nachal Oz army base.

The role of the observers was to watch the live camera footage from the border fence, and alert the army of any attempts to breach the border. No one thought that over 3,000 terrorists would blind the cameras and invade Israel, and the Nachal Oz base, without any alarm going off. Which is also why they had no combat training, and their base didn't have any protection from a terrorist breach, only from rockets. On Oct 7, with the start of the biggest barrage of rockets ever fired into Israel at 6:30 in the morning, most of these girls were asleep. They woke up and went into the bomb shelter, which became a death trap under the terrorist attack. The terrorists first used poison on the girls inside the bomb shelter, and then threw in hand grendaes, and lastly, they opened fire at everyone inside. These girls, whose service was mandatory, who didn't have any weapons, who didn't know how to fight, who were still in their pyjamas, were not civilians, but they were just as vulnerable and defenseless as so many of the civilians were on Oct 7, and what happened to them was just as much a slaughter, rather than a battle.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

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mamawasatesttube · 1 year

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OOF. There are so many good prompts on that list, I could barely decide! But I feel like I gotta go with “They’ll find me, they always do.” Preferably as spoken by Kon?

Kon doesn't know where he is.

Well—okay, he has a vague idea. It's... a box, somewhere underground, designed for holding Kryptonians. Designed for breaking Kryptonians, if he's entirely honest; courtesy of Luthor, of course. The walls are twofold, with all the air pumped out of the gap between the layers so that he can't hear anything from outside, and the strange, uncanny silence alone would be bad enough without the darkness, away from any sun.

The only light is, of course, the fucking kryptonite.

It's getting old, he thinks woozily. How many times is Luthor gonna pull this kinda shit? Does he really think he can break Kon's spirit just with a little (okay, a lottle) physical misery? Does he really think Kon will ever give up any of Kal's secrets just 'cuz of some pain, misery, and humiliation?

Admittedly, having to hand himself over for a bunch of civilian hostages just to get slapped with a kryptonite fucking collar is pretty heavy on the humiliation front, but still. Kon's a goddamn joke. He can take being a laughingstock.

He heaves a sigh, closing his eyes. At least the floor is cold and soothing against his flushed cheeks; the hot flashes are better than the cold sweats, so he's grateful, for the moment. He just has to outlast this, that's all.

At some point, the loudspeaker in the ceiling crackles and jolts him out of his doze. "You look pathetic," Luthor informs him. Kon musters up the energy to raise a middle finger to wherever the infrared cameras in here might be. "Classy as ever, Supernova. You could end this anytime, you know. And frankly, you owe me your existence; you'd think you'd be more grateful than this."

Kon rolls onto his back just to raise a second middle finger to the ceiling, too.

Luthor sighs. "So stubborn. Why do you insist on drawing out your suffering? There is only one way this ends, and we both know that."

"Yeah," Kon mumbles. He's too tired and achy to keep his arms up any longer, so he lets them fall back down to his sides. "There is. They'll find me. They always do."

Judging by the hiss of breath, Luthor doesn't care for that answer. Kon smiles despite the burning under his skin, and closes his eyes again.

Some time passes. Kon drifts vaguely in and out of consciousness, thoughts swimming; when the pain and the nausea grow too overwhelming, he retreats into the part of his mind that never left the tube at Cadmus and lets himself float away from reality.

He dreams about the swimming hole a little ways from the farmhouse. It's in a small copse of trees that stand out on the flat horizon; he took Tim there earlier this summer. They splashed around, swam, and made out sitting on the water's edge; right as they were about to leave, Tim stole Kon's shirt and jumped in wearing it, just to make Kon wear a wet T-shirt the whole walk home, and laughed at his own prank on and off all afternoon.

Kon likes when Tim laughs. The memory makes him smile; he can almost feel the warmth of the sunlight on his back as he reminisces. God, what he'd do for some sunlight right now...

Bang. Bang. Bang.

BOOM.

Light floods into the room, artificial, fluorescent light that does nothing for him. Kon squints vaguely at the silhouettes cast against it, but doesn't bother to lift his head; he'd rather dream of the swimming hole and the cool water lapping at his clammy skin.

"Is that a fucking collar?" Cassie's voice, frigid with rage. Warm hands brush against his throat as she kneels, and the sound of metal snapping reaches him from far, far away. "I'm going to kill Luthor. I'm actually gonna kill—"

"Not if I get there first," Bart says, his voice strangely taut. "Hey, Kon. Wake up!"

Someone else is at his side, too. Red, and black, and white eyes in a dark mask... oh. That's Tim, Kon realizes woozily, as a gloved hand cups his cheek.

"Kon," Tim says. His voice is low and urgent. He's not laughing. The kryptonite is gone, Kon realizes suddenly; there's a metal box next to Tim's knee. Classic Tim, he thinks. Always prepared. "Kon, can you hear me?"

Kon blinks at him. He probably should answer, but... he still feels like he's floating, and none of it can quite reach him. It's fine. It's probably fine.

Tim's lips press together in a thin, tight line. Kon doesn't like that; he shouldn't look so tense and unhappy. He likes when Tim laughs.

"Shit, that bastard really did a number on him," Cassie hisses. "Here, move. I got him."

Tim reluctantly pulls away. Kon whines a little as his hand drops from his cheek; he doesn't want Tim to go. But then Cassie is there, gathering him up into her arms, and Kon sighs, relaxing; she's warm, and he's suddenly acutely aware that he's freezing, and he knows in her arms, he's safe.

"Let's go," Cassie says, standing with Kon in her arms.

"He's shivering. Hold on." Kon watches through weary, half-lidded eyes as Tim fiddles with the clasps of his cape, pulls it off, and... oh. Drapes it over him like a blanket, then bundles him up like a baby, in Cassie's arms.

"If you guys have Kon, I can go murder Luthor real fast," Bart offers.

It's probably a sign that his friends are really, really pissed that no one immediately says no murder, Bart. Kon can't figure out what's going on, but he knows he's safe now. He closes his eyes and sinks into Cassie's arms and figures he'll just have to ask them to fill him in later.

#dissociation cw #timkon #(just a lil but. its there)#core four #rimi writes #kon #bart #tim #cassie #lex luthor (derogatory)#necer0s #sometimes you just have to put kon in the blender you know?#tim cassie bart SO FUCKING PISSED and kon just huh. i wonder what thats about! bc hes dumb of ass and SO out of it <3

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not-alien-girl-v · 11 months

Note

bro im sad and need 75 fluff

Beside You (George Daniel)

i need u to know how badly i wanted to reply to this with ‘damn that sucks. goodluck tho’

warning: is this too fucked up. you can be honest with me. tw language also i make up my own sayings sometimes so if ur ever reading my work and thinking ‘who the fuck says that’ no one does except for me

note: this is fucked up because i feel like i relate to reader too much. anyways. read at ur own risk

2.8k

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Wallet, phone, gum, breath mints, polaroids, but no keys in her purse. She’s supposed to have them, anyway. George loves to get on her about it every time she forgets them, which is about 50 percent of the time.

And here she is, keyless, outside his house.

It’s like a cruel game, this entire situation. She can hear the laughter inside, voices of her closest friends pooled together in liquid form, swirling around in the room before her like an aquarium of dirty jokes and screaming laughter.

They’re all just on the other side of the door. Just a room away. Yet she’s still on the outside, looking in through some metaphorical window. The curtains are closed, the glass shut to keep the smell of weed and cigarettes inside.

She misses them, more than she can say, more than she thought she would.

‘The door is always open,” she can hear his words ringing through her head. ‘To you,’ an afterthought. She never knows what to make of it when he says things like that.

Again, though, metaphorically, the door is open. Physically? It’s locked tighter than her asshole.

So if not keys, what does she have? Dignity? It’s close to being out the window if she has to knock repeatedly until someone hears her and opens the door, even more so if she has to call him to open it, or any of them, really, she doesn’t want to seem desperate, at least not as desperate as she truly is.

God, she feels like a schoolgirl just at the thought of this whole ordeal. She’s in love with George Daniel. It’s not a hard thing to do, he’s basically the man of any girl’s dreams, but she was just fortunate enough (or perhaps, unfortunate enough) to become friends with him.

Him, and his stupid friends, his stupid house, his stupid locks.

She’s deciding what to do when, magically, the door swings open on its own. But it isn’t magic. It’s just George.

He grins, not like he’s happy to see her, but like he’s happy to be right, prove a point about something. He doesn’t greet her, he takes a step back, letting her cross the threshold on her own terms, and proudly exclaims to his dumbass friends scattered around the living room.

“I was right! I told you she’d be waiting outside like a creep!” Again, making no moves to interact with her at all. No ‘we’ve been apart for 4 months hug.’ No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I’m sorry I don’t answer when you call’, but somehow she loves how he doesn’t care.

He’s nonchalant, the ‘chill’ one of the group, always too high to care too much about anything, but it’s not a fault, not to her. Rose tinted glasses, or something.

Ross is on the single lounge chair, slumped down, joint pinched between the his pointer and thumb of his right hand, Adam sprawled out on the loveseat, stretching his legs out onto George’s previous seat, taking up the entire space of the couch since George got up and abandoned his cushy spot.

Matty’s on the floor. Matty was on the floor, but he twists onto his feet, approaching her in the door way.

“Y/N! It’s good to see your face,” he works his arms over both her shoulders, less of a mutual hug, more him holding her hostage in a death trap for a moment, firm pats and swipes on her clothed back. “I missed you,” that last part is muffled into her hair.

She watches George over Matty’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at Hann, pretending to sit on Ross’s lap for a second before dropping to the ground, legs crossed, and takes the joint from Ross. His mouth hollows around it as he inhales, carved cheekbones on full display.

He’s a spectacle to watch. If she had it her way, she’d never take her eyes off of him. But she can’t have it her way, not yet.

She gives Matty 3 firm rubs on the back, muttering a ‘missed you too’ into his neck, then ducks under his arms, sitting herself an appropriate distance from George on the floor, but close enough to show she wants more than friendship, if that’s even something that can be conveyed through sitting distance.

It’s these types of things that rot her brain every time she’s near him. It’s like a spell he puts her under, she can’t talk right, she gets all blushy and flushed and nervous when she looks at him, so she’s made a habit of looking anywhere else, the floor, her nails, his friends.

She’s snapped out of her daydream by George elbowing her in the ribs to grab her attention. “You want a hit?”

She allows herself a smidge of self-indulgence. Eyes trace his shoulder, rippling muscles under warm skin under colored tattoos, she wanders down it to his arms, veins protruding like he’s completing some impressive feat, one that requires complete contraction of all his muscles, yet between his fingers, all that lays is a tiny joint.

“Uh, yeah,” she decides to allow her fingers to gently brush his own, concluding it’s just the right amount of mix of longing and friendly gesture, romantic and platonic stirred into one touch, and this, this little action, this will be the moment George confesses his true love for her so she doesn’t have to do it first.

She could do it. She could say what she’s been biting her tongue about for years and years now. She could have done it any number of moments these past years.

The night before the boys left for tour, when George stopped by her house impulsively, out in the pouring rain for her until she let him in, and they talked and talked and talked until their throats ran raw and voices croaked. Any pause in the conversation, she could have blurted it out, pulled his lips to hers.

Halloween, 1 year ago, when she dropped acid and began to have a bad trip, she freaked out so hard she was almost inconsolable, when he locked the door behind them in her bedroom and wrestled her frantic self down onto her bed and held her there. He was so close, nearly every inch of his body molded to hers in some way, hell, she could feel his breath on the space behind her ear. They stayed like that for hours. She didn’t utter a word.

She will admit, things have been different as of late. These moments where she thinks she could almost say what she wants to are becoming sparse. Intense, deep moments that make her feel connected to him body and soul. She hasn’t been feeling it as much lately.

Maybe she was pulling away from him, maybe he was pulling away from her, but the distance from tour wasn’t the only space between them.

That didn’t stop her from missing him like hell every time he went away.

“By the way, Y/N, we ordered Chinese before you got here, there’s leftovers in the kitchen,” Adam mumbles to her, like it’s his only volume of voice. Has he ever yelled?

She nods, wordlessly, and walks to the kitchen, hoping to get away from the whirlwind of emotions she is being assaulted by from simply being in the presence of George. Years of friendship and it never gets easier.

She finished a small plate of food quietly in the kitchen. She hears the boys laughing in the room, on the other side of the wall.

Leaning over the sink, she scrapes the plastic fork against the edges of the now empty bowl.

“That was quick,” a voice from behind her, startling her so bad, she drops both items in the sink.

It’s him.

“I was hungry.”

He approaches from behind, getting too close than what she would consider a friendly distance, but George does this all the time.

What he doesn’t do all the time, however, is wrap his arms around her waist from behind. "Missed you," he speaks through an inhale, like he's breathing her in, toxic fumes that swirl around his lungs like smoke.

"Yeah, same." She's a fucking imbecile. How was he supposed to know she loved him when she says such dry things when he's here, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he does. Does he do this to all his female friends?

He hums, not prodding further about the way her voice is unexpectedly monotone. He releases her from his grip, reaching around her for a fortune cookie.

"You had one of these yet? They kind of taste like an old man's ear but I know you love the corny messages inside of them." He's right. She does love that. She loves that he knows she loves it. She loves him.

"Sure," she takes it from him, cracking open the shell and discarding the gross cookie on the counter behind them, as she does so, he settles himself in front of her, trapping her against the counter with both hands resting on it on either side of her, their chests not quite touching but she certainly can feel his warm body next to hers.

"What's it say?" He mumbles, not wanting his buddies to catch him in such a compromising position with one of his closest friends. Matty would surely give him hell for it. 'Why don't you ever treat me like that?'

If Matty weren't so hung up on Y/N, George would swear the boy was gay for him.

She unrolls the white paper. 'You only live once. 19 3 23 90.' Was this thing for real? Were the stars truly aligning so perfectly for her just this once. And the numbers, they're numbers engraved in the same sector of her brain, the sector containing all things George. When rearranged, they would spell out George's birthday. The 23rd of March, 1990.

Fuck, it was like God herself was here, screaming in Y/N's face, "this is a sign! This is a sign!" It was neon, bright pink and green, appearing over the man's head, reflecting of his bleached blond hair. George gazes patiently at her.

"YOLO," she says, and laughs without humor. He cackles, his loud, familiar witchy laugh that makes her weak at the knees, but she doesn't allow herself to swoon.

"No fucking way! Let me see that," he cruelly rips it out of her gentle fingers, eyeing it himself. He exhales a sigh, "what a fucking joke."

A sign. A sign. A sign.

"George. George?" She tries out his name like it's the first time. He doesn't suspect a thing, he glances innocently up at her from the fortune paper.

"Yes, love?" An arrow through her heart, piercing ang stinging, sharp.

"I..."

"What?"

"I love you. I love you. More than as a friend."

And he laughs. He laughs like she just told some tastefully dirty joke to him, like friends would, good friends, best friends. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious George. I'm in love with you. I have been for, I don't know, a long time.

He retreats. He backs away, smile wiped from his face.

"No, no." He tries to shake his head like disagreeing with her will make it not true.

"I am. I didn't know how to tell you, I swear, I lost count of all the times I almost did. I was so close for so long, but I was scared. Still am. Please." God, how pathetic does she sound right now. Please? This is not how she planned it. Where was the requited love confession? The passionate kiss? The foreheads pressed together like lovers would? It's nowhere to be found, she's afraid.

"Don't do this. Come on, we've got a good thing going, you and me. Don't ruin it, you're ruining it!" His voice starts to raise.

She fucked up big time.

"I'm ruining it? Me! You didn't call me for 4 months. 4 months, George. You didn't answer my texts, nothing! You left me with nothing for 4 fucking months! Then, when you finally get back, I come to see you and you say nothing! You said nothing to me! No, wait, you called me a creep for standing outside your house. No hug, no 'I missed you'. Nothing, George!"

"Look, I just didn't want to be all sappy about you in front of the guys. It would look... I don't know... weird."

"Oh, ok. So you weren't being all sappy when you were practically groping your ex-girlfriend in a room with everyone? Sucking face, sitting her on your lap, grabbing her tits, that's not too sappy for you. But saying hello to your best friend you haven't heard from in months? That's where you draw the line, huh? Can you just be honest with me? Can you just tell me the fucking truth?"

He's sure everyone's been hearing every single word of this, and to his surprise, no one has intervened yet. Not even Matty.

"Fine, Y/N. You want the truth? If you want it so bad, then you can have it. I knew you loved me. You're so obvious about it, God, I'm not fucking stupid. But I never felt the same way, so I didn't say anything. Is that a crime? It's nothing new to you, you're not my type. If we're both being honest, you're not the most attractive girl. It's not your fault. And it never bothered me because we're friends. Why can't we just be friends? Please, Y/N, stop doing this, you're only making it worse."

"You're such a dick! You're such a fucking dick!"

It's at this point, Matty and Ross pile into the room, Ross trying to diffuse the situation by attempting to escort George out of the tension-filled room, Matty trying to escalate the situation, giving George a slap to the face.

"What the fuck is your problem, asshole? After everything I told you? Everything we've been through?" Now Ross is attempting to pull George away from Matty, Adam joining in to separate Matty from George.

"She's my fucking friend! I'll deal with her how I want to!" George retorts. He attempts lunging at Matty but Ross, full-bodied and strong, holds him back.

"Sure, she's your fucking friend. So what? That means you have the right to treat her like shit when she tells you how she feels? You've been leading her on for years now! Everyone knows it. Ross, Adam, me, you brought this upon your fucking self and now the inevitable has happened and this is how you choose to deal with it! She's a human being, with real feelings, real emotions, and more than that, she's your best friend. Shouldn't that count for something at a time like this?"

The physical aggression has mostly gone away now, and Ross is unsure of what to do, should he break up the argument? Take sides? Back Matty up? Console the now sobbing Y/N? He takes frantic glances to Hann as he debates all the options, Hann, clearly doing the same. They stay frozen in their spots.

"I'm not in love with her. I don't love her, not like that, she just doesn't do it for me. I can't control that. I don't have to love her back, I can't. Besides, I thought you were the one head over heels for her. This should be your lucky day, after a tough rejection, you can swoop in on your white horse and take her for yourself. You should be thanking me, giving you an opening after all this ridiculous pining you've been doing."

"You're right, I do want her. I've wanted her to love me for as long as she's been hung up on you. But I'm a decent fucking guy, and I wouldn't want to start something with her, not under these circumstances. This is all wrong, this isn't right, George. She doesn't deserve this. She cares about you, she cares so much, and you knew this whole time, so obviously you should have known better than to go and treat her like this. Grow a pair, you cunt!" Matty finishes with a harsh poke to George's chest.

Unsurprisingly, George storms out, despite this being his own house, car keys in his pocket, and no one quite knows where he may be off to at a time like this but that's not anyone's main priority anymore.

Matty takes a moment to collect himself, trying to pretend like he's the only one in the room for a moment, before turning around to assess the situation, the girl he's been in love with.

He turns to see her crying into a hug from Ross, Adam unsurely rubbing her back in comfort, neither one of them certain on what to do. There's still so much left unsaid.

Once Ross takes notice of Matty's impatient gaze, he pats the girl's back, turning her in his grasp, trying not to feel bad about essentially handing her off to Matty, but at the moment, it seems like they need each other more than anyone needs Ross, so he does what he has to do. "Go to him, love," he mutters, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

Hesitantly, she approaches Matty, no idea of what is next to come.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 1 year

Text

He cared

Summary: Sullys find out what Spider did and he crumbles as the pain he’s been holding in for his entire life finally comes to the surface .

“You…you what?” Kiri asked, her voice shaking.

“I…I saved him.” Spider’s heart hammered against his ribcage in guilt and fear, but he looked bravely into her eyes. He had to be honest, had to tell them because it was the right thing to do.

Maybe he was writing his own death sentence, but Eywa doesn’t like liars, and neither does Spider himself. He was taught better than that, and it was better to rip off the band-aid sooner than later.

Seconds felt like years as the family all collectively went into shock, the realisation dawning on them slowly, painfully so, and suddenly the boy was overcome with terror. What had he done? He shouldn’t have stayed with them after what he did, he should have ran away or thrown himself off of a cliff or—

“Why did you do that?” Jake began, standing up slowly, growing louder with every word. “WHY?!” He took Spider‘s shoulders and shook him, looking rather pained than angry, like a part of him hoped there was some obscure explanation for why this boy saved a monster who was responsible for traumatising so many people in the past few months and promised to kill them all.

Honestly, the boy didn’t expect be given an opportunity to explain himself. Spider actually believed someone would snap his neck before he could open his mouth again, so he hasn’t thought it out this far, and the question was a simple one, however…he didn’t know the answer.

Or, well, he knew, there were many, but had no idea which one to give them, which one would make them understand, which one would stop them from killing him, although at this point he kind of felt like he deserved it.

Quaritch saved my life. Twice. I was only returning the favour.

He is not the same man who led the war on Pandora, he can change, he can redeem himself.

Eywa said all life is sacred, I couldn’t leave him to die, it would be wrong.

These were all real factors, honest feelings he had about his father captor, but deep down he knew that none of those played a role in that moment, when he saw that man drowning, for there was only one thought on his mind, only one feeling.

Fear. He feared for him. For this broken, twisted man who nevertheless had good in him, in these rare moments they’d share, the little smiles he’d give the boy when he was around simply because being with him made Quaritch happier, and it felt amazing to be wanted, and when he was wanted, Quaritch no longer felt like a horrid monster. Rather, he was simply a person forced into an identity of a dead man, trying to play the role he was given because it was all he had.

Until he got Spider.

And back on that burning ship, when the kid almost got murdered, he saw it.

He saw that Quaritch too, feared for him, and his mask crumbled as he let Kiri go.

So how could he let him die? The man who took him from everything he ever knew and kept him hostage but also…looked out for him? Genuinely gave him his all, even if his all was the bare minimum? Who tried, for him? Who gave up his mission and practically doomed himself to failure, for him?

“TELL ME!” Jake shook the boy more violently, locking eyes with him. Neytiri was too devastated to even move, recalling that dreadful day and imagining how she’d have to deal with it again.

Lo’ak’s breathing was heavy and sure enough, he began hyperventilating at the possibility of meeting Quaritch again.

The panic of other family members caused Tuk to start worrying too. She knew what Quaritch’s survival meant but she couldn’t be mad at Spider for not allowing someone to die, he was just being a good person, she thought, trying to push the traumatic memories of a Na’vi dressed in camo looming over her. Spider wasn’t a bad guy, she knew that much, so she put her small hands on her mother’s shoulders, trying to shake her out of the shock. “Mommy..?…”

“SPIDER GOD DAMN IT!” Jake became more distressed, cupping the kid’s face to force him to snap out of whatever brainstorm he was having and start talking. After all it wouldn’t be long until Neytiri comes out of her trans and she just might go wild again, spurred by the horrid memories.

“How..how could you!? How could you DO THAT!?!?” Lo’ak was now coming toward the teen with wide strides and Jake outstretched his left hand to force a distance between them. This was getting out of control and Spider still hasn’t said a word after his confession. “After EVERYTHING HE DID! TO NEYTAYAM! TO KIRI AND TUK! TO US! TO YOU!!”

“BECAUSE HE CARED, UNLIKE YOU!!!”

The hut went silent. Spider never raised his voice like this before, pouring his hurt and frustration into every syllable, but it felt so damn selfish to admit it, that at the bottom of it all, this was the real reason.

Quaritch simply gave him more attention in several months than the entirety of Omatekaya, Jake and Neytiri did in his entire life and it felt pathetic to admit that he got attached so easily.

He begged Eywa to forgive him, but at least he was being honest, the great mother couldn’t blame him for that.

“He chose me…even when he had nothing to gain…” Spider then mumbled with a shaky breath. “Even when he didn’t have to…he chose me.”before breaking eye contact with Jake and looking away.

Meanwhile, Jake’s anger was now nowhere to be found, and neither was Lo’ak’s. Kiri held an understanding expression and even Neytiri’s fury subsided.

The father looked at Spider with an increasingly guilty expression, his grip on the shoulders weakening, turning gentle before he embraced him ever so tightly, pouring all of shame, all of his regret and affection into it.

And that’s all it took for the boy to break down into tears as he weakly put his arms around the man’s neck.

Lo’ak couldn’t move, he knew that Spider felt this way for a long time but never made a substantial effort to do anything about the problem. He thought it would blow over but instead, his friend got so neglected he trauma bonded to the first man who treated him with basic affection. He felt guilty.

Kiri moved forward, hugging spider and her father tightly to support her friend, and soon her brother joined her, then Tuk.

And then, with something akin to pity, Neytiri did too, putting her hand on the back of spider’s hair. She brought this on herself, this self-fulfilling prophecy…but it didn’t have to be that way.

It will take time, and they’ll make mistakes, but Spider is no longer a stray cat and so, they have to try, really try this time.

To show him he is no longer alone, that he no longer needs to go for the worst option just to stay afloat.

To show him what love really feels like.

And Quaritch? If that man shows up again, they’ll face him, and they’ll do it together, like a fortress.

Because Sullys leave no one behind. Not anymore. Not ever again.

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