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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

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dex-starr · 1 year

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I think I hurt myself real good going back into the past damn dude I’m stupid and I went back even further before me and I’m so dumb why didn’t I see shit

#fuck man sometimes I feel like I got left for things I couldn’t fully control and it hurts but I had some control but fuck I don’t know man #clearly therapy hasn’t helped me jackshit on this topic because I cannot get any closure on it #my stupid little brain operates on solving the puzzle or knowing why it was unsolvable but fuck!!!#I can look at these messages but they tell me nothing and show me nothing aside from what I lost and what changed #I only know your view in hindsight but I knew it at the time too I just didn’t know how to give you what you wanted haha #I can only ask forgive me I’m dumb so many times there but my brain just goes in circles #why did I have to fall head over heels for you I didn’t want to be with anyone before this!!!!!#I wanted to just wither away slowly and peacefully I wanted solitude I was ready to just float on somewhere without a care #and then I cared. I grew to care for you so much. I still care so much. I wanted to be with you so much. I still kind of do.#I still can’t really think properly when it comes to you and I hate it I hate my emotions so much sometimes I had emotional dysregulation #I hate my executive dysfunction #I hate my procrastinating nature I hate my stubbornness #I hate all the things that made me lose you #why couldn’t I just be the things that made you love me and want to stay why did I find it so hard to reconcile with myself

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etherealkissed88 · 3 months

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its reaches a point where its like: do you want it or not?

you voluntarily choose to be this shit version of you by accepting/identifying w it. you know you are the operant power and can choose anything. plzplzplzplzplzplzplz stop following/accepting the 3d!! when something looks wrong, idc!! stay true to the version of you you already decided to be! change self no matter what bc the 3d that follows YOU!!! so it doesnt make sense to follow the 3d!literally ur only job is changing self! do is and stick w it. u CHOOSE!!!!!!!!! U CONTROL EVERYTHINGGG!!! STOP BEING A SLAVE TO THE 3d!!!! and ur senses!!! once youve changed self, you are the person you want to be!!!

ive manifested so many things while looking at the 3d showing the opposite and i had to stay true to SELF and know i already decided that i am the one w the things i wanted. if i found myself being a version of myself (being in the state of lack,) i would allow myself to feel any emotions and when im ready, remember that everything is under MY control. nothing is ever out of your control even if you assume it is. it will just seem like its out of your control but its not.

self is always expressed!

“do you want it or not?” you are always changing self by being a version of you out of the infinite versions of you so why choose and allow yourself to continue being the version that you dont want (the one who struggles, the one who doesnt have what they want)? since creation is always finished, you can always change self/versions of you whenever you want so dont you want your desire? change self to the version of you who has it already!

change self to being the person w that desire -> theres no more desire bc its reality. self is reality! change self and its rly done. stop voluntarily sticking to a shitty version of you when all there is to do is change self.

kisses, jani ☆

#etherealkissed🎀#etherealkissed #loa blog #law of assumption #manifesting #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #imagination creates reality #change self

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rileyslibrary · 5 months

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Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

��My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

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footygirl114 · 2 months

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Operation (Leah Williamson x Reader)

This is definitely a result of too much Grey's anatomy but I was told that I need to let some of the ideas out of my noggin so here you go? (I think). Also I could be persuaded into this becoming a series...

Your pager going off interrupted the scrolling of TikTok you were doing while enjoying your morning coffee, after rounding on your patients. You glanced at the screen and noticed it was a 911 to the ER for an incoming Trauma. Kicking yourself into gear you moved and started to make your way down, the whole time kicking yourself for jinxing your pager since you were hoping to catch the Arsenal vs. Manchester United Game at the Emirates on TV during your shift.

Knowing that wasn’t going to happen as you walked into the ER and it was organised chaos. You walked towards the head of the ER and asked “what happened?”

He turns to you and says “A car jumped a curb at the Emirates stadium before the game, ran into a few pedestrians including an 8 year old and her dad. We have the driver, a 43 year old male, and the two victims on route now.”

“damn it, how bad?” you ask him as you move to pull your hair back, and put on a trauma gown and gloves.

“the dad, is in critical condition, they say he was able to get the girl out of the way but she sustained injuries when he shoved her out of the way.” He says as you walk with him to the ambulance bay waiting for the incoming ambulances.

As you wait for the ambulance you listen to the other doctors conferring over what they think the driver was on, but you take the second to glance at your phone and double check the texts with your fiancé. They state that she was there an hour prior to this happening, and knowing the teams timing you knew she was on the field for warm up.

When they finally pull up you wait to find out what one your patient is in. Once you know where the child is you step up and move beside her gurney listening as the paramedics rattle off her name and vitals. She meets your eyes and you can see how scared she is and you say to her softly “Hi Kenzie, I’m Dr. Y/L/N, and I am going to be taking care of you.”

She’s shaking as she asks “where’s my dad?”

“Sweetie, he’s being taken care of by some of my very good friends, You and I are going to get you checked out so you can be ready for him okay?” you tell her as you move your hand to tuck a loose piece of her hair behind her ear checking her pupils as you do this.

When she nods, you move to grasp her hand as you gesture for the team to get her gurney moving. You had waited so they could get her father inside so she wouldn’t have to see him too injured. Once you get her into a room and transferred onto a gurney you start your exam on her.

She’s stays silent as you explain what you are doing, you tell her that you specialise in helping kids who have been injured or sick, and when you press on her belly and he’s hisses and pulls away in pain you know she may have some internal injuries.

Once you determine she’s stable and waiting for scans you go to move away from her but she grabs your hand and says “don’t go.”

You turn and squeeze her hand back and says “i am just going to check on your dad and then I will be right back, I promise.”

She shakes her head and holds up her other hand, leaving her pinky up as she asks softly “pinky promise?”

You smile at her and wrap your pinky around hers and say “I pinky promise sweetie.”

She lets go of both of your hands and you move outside the door, watching as your favourite ER nurse immediately steps in and starts talking to the patient, keeping her distracted, you walk out of the room and the last thing you hear is them talking about the arsenal team. You smile to yourself knowing that she will be okay for a few minutes.

You take the time to order scans for her, and check on her dad, you also manage to talk to someone from social services who is looking for her next of kin, but they are having no luck since her fathers License is from Ireland, you know it will take some time for anyone to get over here.

Walking back into her room you smile at her and say “Hi Kenzie, I am going to take you upstairs now.”

She meets your eyes and asks “how is my dad?”

Moving back towards her you sit down on the edge the bed by her legs and say “he’s been taken into surgery, by those friends of mine. He’s getting the best care possible and they will do everything they can to help him.”

She starts to cry and you move to grasp her hand and she says “I want my daddy.”

It breaks your heart and you move closer and pull her into a hug softly whispering “it’s okay sweetie, let it out.”

After a few moments of letting her cry she’s sniffles and pulls back and says “I’m okay, I can be a big girl.”

You smile and wipe under her eyes and you say “you are strong sweetie, now lets go get some scans of your belly and then we can get you fixed up to be ready for your dad okay?” She nods and you gesture to the nurse to get her ready for transport upstairs for scans then into the paediatric floor.

Less than an hour later, you walk into her room on your floor. You were one of the attending surgeons on the paediatric floor. “Hi sweetie” you tell her as you walk into the room when she turns and smiles softly at you, you continue “They called your grandma, and she should be here tomorrow.”

“Grandma is old and cant move fast” she chuckles at you.

“Well she does have to fly over her, like you and your dad did sweetie. Why were you over here?” you as her as you fiddle with her IV.

She gasps and says “the game! I missed the game.”

“The arsenal one? Were you guys over here to watch it?” you ask her.

“It was my first game, daddy saved up and finally was able to bring me over to watch my favourite team play. Did I miss it? Can I still go watch?” she asks you with wide eyes pleading.

You sit beside her hip on her bed and say softly “sweetie, your scans came back and I need to go in and fix your belly, we are going to do it now.”

“So i wont get to see the game?” she pouts.

You smile sadly and hold up your pinky and ask “I pinky promise when we’re done, I will come and watch the full game with you right here.”

She smiles and wraps her pinky around yours and says “deal.”

Before you can say anything more the surgical team walks in and you know its time to go, You turn to her and say “We’re going to take you in and put you to sleep and when you wake up we will get to watch Arsenal kick butt okay?”

She nods and says “okay.”

You follow the surgical team push her towards the OR, you help them transfer Kenzie over and you stay with her until she’s out. You move into the scrub room and pull out your phone, texting Leah like you did before every surgery, and told her that you would be in the OR and will update when you are done.

Almost 6 hours later you were sat beside Kenzie’s bedside, it was dark and quiet and you were not expecting her to be awake anytime soon but you wanted to be here when she did. It had started to get late and when your phone buzzed you knew it would be Leah. You saw it was and you turned and looked out into the quiet hallway and decided to take the phone call there.

You had been with Leah for almost 5 years, and it was the best 5 years of your life. You had been still a resident and Leah was gaining popularity and you both decided that you wanted to keep your relationship quieter. Leah was worried that some of her more enthusiastic fans would attempt to contact you through the hospital and she wanted to make sure that you were safe.

It was sweet and when the opportunity came up to be an attending at this hospital in the middle of London you jumped at the chance to be close to your fiancé. You had been at this hospital for 6 weeks and as far as you knew, no one was the wiser to if you were single or in a relationship. Which is why you would make sure no one was around before you answered a phone call from her.

“Hi babe” you greeted her when you picked up the phone call.

“Hi love, are you still working?” she asks with a chuckle.

“I am, I’m gonna stay here tonight actually.” you tell her with a soft smile, eyes on the sleeping form of Kenzie in front of you.

You can hear her moving and she says “Are you going to be in surgery all night?”

“no actually, this patient came in and I operated on her” you tell her softly. “She’s 8 and was here with her dad to watch your game, but she was hit by a car on the way to the stadium.”

“Oh, love, is she okay?” she asks softly. Your heart grows three times the size as she just immediately understands why you need to be here and why you cannot leave her.

You pause on answering when Kenzie moves in front of you, but when she settles you say softly to Leah “she’s all alone Lee and I promised to watch the game with her when she wakes up.”

“You’re amazing and I love you” she says “and I will miss you tonight.”

“I miss you too babe” you tell her with a soft smile.

You listen as she moves around and it sounds like she’s gotten into bed and she asks “can you stay on the line with me while I fall asleep?”

Smiling you move and adjust the chair so you are reclining as you softly ask “Do you have training tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Good, I will definitely be home tomorrow babe” you say softly.

“Mhmm I want you here” she sleepy says.

You stay on the line listening to her breathe evening out and you smile to your self, thinking about how much you love this woman. “Sleep tight babe, I love you.” you whisper when you hear her softly snoring you hang up the phone. Turning in the chair to settle into a light sleep.

It’s early in the morning when you hear Kenzie moving around in her bed in front of you. You open your eyes to see her eyes open looking around. You wait to see if she will fall back asleep but when her eyes lock on yours you says “Hi sweetie.”

“hi” she whispers.

You move to stand up and check her vitals and move your hand to check her incision site and you ask her “how are you feeling?”

“Tired” she answers softly.

“do you want to go back to sleep?” you ask her, and move your hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head and says “Can we watch the game now?”

You chuckle and tell her “yeah? lets watch.”

You move the table over the end of the bed to be closer and you pull out your phone and find the recording of the game. You always set Leah’s games that you miss to be recorded so you can watch them back. You pull the chair closer and you set the phone up so you both can see. The first 15 minutes are quiet but when Arsenal scores one she gets excited and sits up more.

After the third goal she’s more animated and is excitedly talking about the game and the players. The game has made her feel a lot better and more like a little girl and you are happy that she seems to be doing better.

You are lost in thought watching when she says “holy crap thats Leah Williamson.”

You chuckle without taking your eyes off the screen and say “sweetie she’s been on the whole game.”

“No, she’s right there!” she shouts.

You turn and meet the eyes of your fiancé standing in the doorway of the hospital room with two coffees, she winks at you and says “I heard we had a fan here that wasn’t able to make it to the game.”

You pause the game and move to stand up and step closer to Leah and you say “this is Kenzie.”

“Hi Kenzie” Leah says and she hands you a coffee and brushes by you to stand beside the bed “are you watching the game back?”

“yeah, I missed it cause Dr. Y/N was operating on my belly.” Kenzie says, the smile bright on her face.

“she’s pretty Awesome” Leah says and then continues “Can I watch the rest with you?”

“Yes please!” Kenzie answers quickly with an excited smile.

“I guess you don’t need me anymore” you say with a chuckle.

Leah smirks at you and says “Sorry love.”

“It’s okay, you guys enjoy I am going to shower and change.” you tell them both. “Kenzie please make sure to ask Leah all the questions okay?”

“I will! She’s my favourite player.” Kenzie says with a smile and moves to press play on the TV as she says to Leah “What did the ref say to you there?”

You chuckle to yourself and move outside the room, and you stand on the outside of the window looking in and you feel your heart grow again watching as Leah and Kenzie both talk with their hands about the game and you can feel the smile growing on your face knowing it may be time to have a conversation with Leah about what you want next.

#woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagines

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Note

hi, i absolutely love your writing !!! i was wondering if it was possibly you could write a lestappen x reader where they try taking care of reader after she gets her wisdom teeth out & she’s all loopy ?

okay I've never had a tooth taken out and i have no idea how this works. All i know if from a few years ago where tom holland or one of his brothers got theirs taken out

She'd been so fucking nervous about it. Max felt bad enough that he couldn't be there, but Charles was with her. That had to be good enough.

He stayed in the room with her throughout the operation. It was pretty quick and, before Charles knew it, he was driving her home.

It didn't take them very long to get home. She hadn't yet woken up when Charles carried her up to their bed. He laid her down on her side of the bed and joined her on the other side of the bed, ready for when she woke up.

The first thing she did was try to swing her legs out of bed. She got only half way. "Chaaaaaaarlie," she cried, her voice muffled, her mouth cottony. "Heeeeeelp."

Immediately Charles got out of bed. He put her legs back under the blankets and propped her up with several pillows. Pushing her hair behind her ear, he kissed the top of her head. "Are you okay now, cherie?"

She didn't answer. No, she frowned. She looked around the room with her eyebrows furrowed. "Where's Max?" She asked. Charles could barely understand her. It took him a good minute before he worked out what she was saying.

Max, she wanted max.

Charles pulled out his phone. He quickly dialled Max's number and waited for his boyfriend to pick up. "How is she?" was the first thing Max said.

Charles simply pulled a face and turned the camera around to face her. Her eyes were half shut, her mouth open, drooling slightly. She looked out of her goddamn mind.

"Oh, my poor love," Max muttered.

Suddenly she was looking around the room. "Maxie? Where the hell are you?" She called, but again, it was muffled.

Charles handed her the phone. Again, she was frowning as she saw Max. "How did you get in there?"

"Oh, Liefde," he said. She looked so cute but so out of it. "Be good for Charlie, okay?"

"Okay," she said and tried to bite her lip. It didn't quite work. "Come home soon?"

"Of course," he said and Charles took the phone from her.

Others might have seen it as a burden, took look after their loopy girlfriend after having her wisdom teeth removed. But Charles loved it. He wouldn't trade it for the wold. Even Max was jealous of him. He would traded anything to be there in his place.

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p1utofairy · 8 months

Text

PAC: “i just wanna be your favorite…” ⭐️🎀💍

• which fictional characters is your person most like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i also just wanna say thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the support <3 it means so much to me. enjoy!

pile 1 💸 —

"i can't wait 'til i get you on the floor, good-looking. hey, going hot, so hot, just like an oven. and ow! burned myself, i just had to touch it. but it's so fire, and it's all mine."

hiii pile 1! let me start off by saying your person is one fineeee m'fer! they look straight out of an old hollywood movie. suit & tie by justin timberlake ft. jay z won't stop playing in my head lol, their vibe is literally that song. they're gonna love taking you out to fun events and showing you off to people hehe i heard "trophy wife." this isn't in a superficial way by any means, they just really love how you look and how bright your personality shines. you have a mesmerizing appearance and an extraordinary personality to match. i feel like your eyes or their eyes is another main focus that will garner lots of compliments. ok, wow. back to the topic at hand! the characters i channeled were jay gatsby from ‘the great gatsby’, lon hammond from ‘the notebook’, and napoleon solo from ‘the man from U.N.C.L.E.’ now of course your person may not exactly look like these characters but the ✨vibes✨ are very much there. you're gonna have the time of your life with this person lol they are so damn fun and charismatic. i can hear them teasing you and and saying "don't be a brat, baby." with a sly smirk on their face LOL they're gonna make you feel so tingly and giddy inside ahhh. i feel like it was hard for them to settle down before you came into their life pile 1. they wanted to have their cake and eat it too. i mean this person could honestly have whatever they want, but you actually make them work for this relationship and they're not used to that. people (romantically and platonically) just fall for them at the drop of a dime because they are just so damn sexy, and it doesn't help that they're good with their words and actions. i just heard smooth operator by sade and ego by beyoncé at the same time lol this person is seriously a charmer! they can't help it though, they just love to socialize and have a good time. on the flip side, this sometimes weighs them down. the constant attention and socializing can make them feel overwhelmed at times. i'm thinking of ‘the great gatsby’ when jay kept throwing elaborate parties and inviting thousands of people to attend them, so that he could eventually catch daisy's attention. i'm hearing "when you're happy, they're happy!" random thought, but for some of you…your person could be from the UK/have a thick british accent. i also feel like your person is funny af, they've got jokes for dayssssss. they honestly take nothing serious…like if either of you had a bad day at work or just in general, TRUST that they will find a way to turn it around. like it'll actually amaze you how they just go through life vibing and you'll just be like how??? and i can hear them saying "i don't know, babe. i just got it like that." lol they're so cocky (but in an annoyingly hot way) you will never be able to stay mad at them. like if you were being petty and giving them the silent treatment for whatever reason…i can see you getting ready and they'd come up all close behind you, arms around your waist, kissing your neck and they'd be like "you still mad at me, baby?" and your brain would literally malfunction like €|>~€\€,\!|!]€]€YESNOYESNO.!:!,&:’ i'm crying this is hilarious. never a dull moment with them, pile 1. i'm telling ya!

other channeled messages:

theme from new york, new york by frank sinatra, gene kelly, tuxedo, her way by partynextdoor, sophisticated, expensive cologne, j'adore dior, pearly white teeth, cartier watch, swarovski crystals, meet me on the dance floor, babydoll by mariah carey, british, sprinter by dave & central cee, love island, damson idris, i'll make it happen, ballin’ by partynextdoor, diamonds are a girl's best friend

pile 2 💣 —

“who wants that perfect love story anyway, anyway. cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché. who wants that hero love that saves the day, anyway cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché.”

okayyyy pile 2, i see y'all with the bonnie and clyde vibes! let's buckle down and get serious though. i already feel like your person is very misunderstood. they might've had a rough childhood growing up or possibly struggled with connecting to their family. they feel like they fuck things up? they kinda think to themselves "why should i even try to be in a relationship, i'm a mess. i mess things up." it's actually sad because i feel like they're a great person (very soft and gentle) and when things go left/don't work out they immediately blame themselves because the blame was always put on them as a child. i'm hearing it's a "trauma response" :( aw pile 2 i feel like crying…your person really takes it on the chin and keeps it pushing. i can see them sitting on porch steps, gazing at the skyline and kinda just shrugging saying "that's just life i guess." they tend to self-sabotage before things even go into motion but before you two meet, they'll be pushed to confront their problems/fears. they have this cool, in-control, idgaf type of vibe on the outside but internally it's the opposite. i'm hearing pretty little fears by 6lack ft. j cole wow pile 2 they'll really have a soft spot for you. the characters i channeled were damon salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’, luke glanton from ‘the place beyond the pines’ and tyler durden from ‘fight club’ which are some pretty complex personalities whew. your person is a loner by default, they feel like they really can't depend on many people. they've been left out in the cold so many times it's like they had no other choice but to become independent fast. when they meet you, pile 2…you're going to awaken them. i'm hearing j cole's verse in pretty little fears, “i'm loving your light, vulnerable. letting your guard down is honorable. 'specially when the past ain't been that friendly to you, but…there's magic in that.” it's gonna be insane to them how someone like you could display so much love, care and devotion towards them. i can see them keeping a really cute picture of you (or you two together) in their wallet/bag and just staring at it with a small smile on their face. you give them so much hope pile 2. they never knew they were capable of such strong emotions; love, happiness, joy. i can see you two laughing about something…you have this big grin on your face and when you turn your head to look at them, you just see them with a dopey smile on their face and a glint in their eyes just staring at you in awe. and you're just like "what?" but you don't even know how much you really mean to them in that moment. I'M ABOUT TO BURST INTO TEARS PLS I CAN'T. they're not used to anything stable, but you give them hope and anticipation for their future…with you. y'all are going to have to have so many enlightening, deep and forward-thinking conversations. i see them holding your hand and kissing your knuckles, taking random drives at night together while blasting music and going to the movies and talking/debating afterwards about what you hated and what you loved. k i'm crying, bye!

other channeled messages:

west coast by lana del rey, west side, successful relationship, turning tables by adele, cigarettes out the window by tv girl, well my boyfriend's in a band, ultraviolence album, someone like u (interlude) by ariana grande, toxic upbringing, scorpio moon, aries, smoking weed, american psycho, it's a forever thing

pile 3 🐚 —

“every little thing you do got me feeling some type of way. when you gimme that thunder you make my summer rain.”

welcome to your reading pile 3! idk why i wanted to say pile 333 hehe let's take that as a sign that you're about to meet your person soon. your person is so easy-going…like their energy feels so carefree and warm; like a nice summer breeze (i feel like some of you that chose this pile watch/really love the summer i turned pretty) i can see your person adjusting their sunglasses and saying "i'm just happy to be here." they're such a vibe lol. ok and why did i just randomly hear "no you're cute jeans." their sense of humor is so sjhfjdjcjdsn y'all are gonna have a lot of inside jokes together; internet memes especially. that "i'm sorry, i'm just in a silly goofy mood" shemar moore video just popped up in my head LMFAOOOO your person is hilarious pile 3. i channeled johnny storm from ‘fantastic four’, chad meeks-martin from ‘scream vi’, stefan salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’ and conrad fisher from ‘the summer i turned pretty’ which are all pretty different but i see the vision pile 3…i see the vision. i feel like your person has just gotten back to themselves, because for awhile they weren't this upbeat and silly. i feel like this has to do with a past hurt/betrayal from either a friend or an ex-lover…that person took them for granted and made them feel small. i just randomly heard "katherine pierce" so maybe that person was very sneaky and never had good intentions in the first place. when they're with you though, they feel like a moth drawn to a flame. best friend by 50 cent just came to mind, "if i was your best friend, i want you 'round all the time. (i want you 'round me all the time) girl, i'll be your best friend if you promise you'll be mine (girl, promise you'll be mine)." i see you both posting funny photo dumps of you two together on instagram/instagram stories. i feel like y'all will be a PDA couple, and even if you aren't one of those type of people that likes all that…they're definitely gonna make you so happy that people visibly see the love between the two of you. i can see them kissing the side of your head, you slightly leaning into them…them giving you their hoodie/jacket to wear when you're cold. it's subtle things like that 🥹 so so so cute. you two have a very sacred, beautiful and divinely protected relationship. your person will be very generous with their time, money and love when it comes to you pile 3.

other channeled messages:

there goes my baby by usher, one in a million by ne-yo, connie baby, it's your world i'm just living in it, positions by ariana grande, unlock it by charlie xcx ft. kim petras & jay park, right my side by nicki minaj ft. chris brown, long walks on the beach, forever boy, vintage camera/digital camera, breakin’ my heart (pretty brown eyes) by mint condition, taylor swift, peter parker

pile 4 🌹—

“moment of honesty. someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be? i'm gonna sit right here and tell you all that comes to me. if you have something to say, you should say it right now.”

heyyy pile 4. i'm kinda stunned rn cause your person is sooooooooo captivated by you. like they wanted to skip all the bullshit and get right into it, and honestly…i #respect it. they think you're an absolute badass, you handle tough situations with so much grace. i'm hearing "you're better than me." lol they play no games pile 4, especially when it comes to you! i'm hearing that you've been through a lot, and it hasn't been easy for you to get to the point in your life that you're at now. they just wanna kiss you and make everything better. kiss it better by rihanna just started playing, "kiss it, kiss it, better baby." yeah your person is sensual af pile 4, it's givingggg taurus vibes. this is random af but i feel like they really love your back? if you wear a backless top or a backless dress, they will go absolutely FERAL. like fingers ghosting down your spine, their lips kissing down your neck…and don't get me started on the eye contact. their gaze is INTENSE. i’m hearing lyrics from nobody by selena gomez, "no kiss, no lips, no feel, no rush can keep me high, i swear no one…can love me like you do. can love me like you do, no." the characters i channeled were tobias eaton from ‘divergent’ and anakin skywalker from ‘star wars prequel trilogy’ which is so on brand. those 2 did not play about tris and padmé, ok?! you are their whole world pile 4. if it's not you, they don't want it. they feel so relaxed around you…like they can finally breathe. i can see them standing in a serious stance (obviously tense af) pondering about something and you just come behind them and wrap them in a big bear hug and they just…melt. they finally take that deep breath that they didn't even realize they were holding in for so long. they usually keep their feelings to themselves, but you create such a great safe space for them to be so open, honest and vulnerable; and vice versa. i'm also hearing that they are a very hands-on type of person, so whatever you need done/fixed, they sure as hell will find a way to do it for you. i can also see you two chilling/relaxing together a lot. don't get me wrong this person will always find something for you two to do, but there's something about that downtime (watching a movie while cuddled up with you on the couch, spending time with you and your loved ones/friends or taking a late night drive with you) that makes them think to themselves, "damn i really love life." 😮‍💨 you've got them locked in pile 4. it's so sweet & amazing.

other channeled messages:

1 of 1, peppers by lana del rey ft. tommy genesis, skywalker by miguel ft. travis scott, adore by cashmere cat ft. ariana grande, it's us against the world baby, 90210, pisces, dream guy, sauvage cologne, miss dior, sagittarius rising, virgo's groove by beyoncé, 1:11, best i ever had (remix) by drake & nicki minaj, all i want is you by miguel ft. j cole, bouquet of flowers, tennis bracelet, wild thoughts by dj khaled ft. rihanna & bryson tiller, cpr by summer walker

#pac #pac reading #love pac #pick a card #love reading #intuitive reading #tarot reading #pick a pile #energy reading #tarot pac #pick a card reading #p1utofairy

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wesstars · 7 months

Text

heaven on earth (ii)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (mostly gn, only term used is “girl friend”)

summary: your friends-with-benefits situation with wednesday isn’t so friendly anymore, but if you could only uncover your own eyes, you might’ve noticed. wc: 5.5k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI! all characters involved are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, painfully oblivious reader, bad fluff, fluff to smut, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, semi-public (car) sex, mild blood, biting, mild overstimulation. a/n: not sure how I feel about this lol. special thank you to 🕷️ anon for her ideas and workshopping <3 comments/asks welcome, as always!

read part one here! this can be read standalone, but is intended to be a continuation.

masterlist

For the fifth time, Wednesday slapped your thigh to get your attention. “Turn it down.”

You huffed a laugh, and figured it was time. You were playing your ‘obnoxious’ pop playlist, full of mostly Taylor Swift and random Korean bands. It was collaborative with Enid, and likely one of Wednesday’s least favorites. Lowering the volume, you tossed Wednesday your phone.

“Alright, it’s your turn.”

The two of you were driving back from a day trip to a nearby town—actually, you were supposed to be driving back the rest of Enid and Co, also, but while Wednesday was beyond ready to leave, they all wanted to stay and do something called a “holy trinity.” How someone could have so much alcohol in so little time was so bizarre to you, but then Wednesday, of all people, rolled her eyes and downed three shots in just as many minutes, and seemed no worse for wear.

Seemed was the key word there—not a quarter of an hour later, she’d grabbed onto your arm, grip slack, and her eyes were becoming unfocused, roving all over your face only to miss your eyes and tack onto somewhere lower.

You’d coaxed her to eat something after that. Post French fries and buttered bread (she’d kill you after she knew you’d made her eat such unrefined food,) as well as a bottle and a half of water in, she’d mostly walked it off. You figured it was time to get Wednesday home. As far as you knew, the rest of your friends were still out, though you’d made Yoko promise to text you when they were leaving and when they got back. The windows were open in the car; the wind lifted Wednesday’s fringe off her forehead. You glanced over to where she was gingerly operating your phone, punching in letters on Spotify. Your heart twisted.

You didn’t really want to admit that weird feeling you had the first time, and all the rest of the times, you saw Wednesday. It was a sort of jittery one, with a swoop in your stomach, that made you want to prod her into a conversation. You’d gotten quite a bit more than you’d bargained for, from that first fateful kiss in the classroom, to every secret, heady rendezvous after. The last time you two had been intimate—fucked, in your bed—had left an indelible mark, natural as a shadow settled neatly in your chest. The bickering and play fights had only made things worse, and you knew you had to ignore it all, for Wednesday. To keep things the same, because… something’s better than nothing, right?

You supposed that “something” was where you were right now. Being her ‘girl friend,’ with a space in between, sex and unrequited feelings included, was the best place that you could ever be with her. You had those close moments with her that you could cherish, but also that emotional distance that Wednesday undoubtedly wanted. Perfect. Your childlike sentiments were ones that you were likely to carry in your heart, deep down, for fucking forever. They were never going to see the light of day.

Lilting piano filled the car, shoving images of you and Wednesday seated together before the keys into your mind. Your phone dropped back into your lap.

“Nocturne? In E minor.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“I’m surprised you know.”

“Hey!” Indignant, you nearly shot something back that was sure to start one of your bickering matches again, when an unfamiliar sound rang through the car, lovely as the music, but something you’d never heard before.

“Did you just laugh?”

Wednesday’s mumbled denial was covered up by your own laugh, bordering on hysterical as your heart picked itself up and started racing.

“Do not insult me like that,” Wednesday grumbled, rubbing the hem of her sweater between her fingers. “Focus on the road. Dying with you in a car crash is too pathetic to even consider.” Though her words were sharp as always, her even tone had something in it that, if one wasn’t careful, could be mistaken as gentle.

You snorted again, unable to stop laughing. “And if a double decker bus…” you sang, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. Wednesday’s glare nearly sliced you clean in half, and you were smart for once, shutting up immediately. She wasn’t laughing anymore, and some part of you mourned that.

After Chopin played Liszt, Liebestraum no. 3, and you wondered if Wednesday knew how to queue on Spotify. You followed the winding road up the mountain. You’d be back at Nevermore soon, but selfishly, you didn’t want this to be over. It was an odd time, with no bickering, no siege, no sex, and who could blame you if you were feeling particularly, disgustingly, sentimental? Blame the Liszt.

Turning the car off the road, you pulled into a deserted vista point. Carpe diem, you thought, throwing caution to the wind and the car in park.

“Why have you stopped?”

“Weds, we’re looking at the sunset.”

“I do not need to see it, it happens every day—”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed, unlocking the car doors and stepping out. With the wind whipping around you, blowing your hair every which way, you ducked to peek into the car. “Humor me, I guess. Don’t you feel sorry for me, or something?”

She gave you a pointed look. “I do not.” But she followed you out the car anyway.

Leaning on the hood, you looked out at the scene as she joined you. Spiky evergreens stretched out across the stony slopes, with the last vestiges of snow clinging to the tops. The sun stretched its longing light into the rapidly darkening east behind you, pulling taut the shadows and blanketing everything in an aureate shine.

You glanced over at Wednesday—despite her earlier protest, it seemed as if she was tolerating this. The tension around her brow was gone, and her arms hung relaxed by her sides. The silence wasn’t rare, but it felt reverent anyway. Your heart adored her in her outfit; it was something your mind refused to register. She was in black knee high boots, made of some leather you couldn’t pronounce, an inky dress, flowing in the wind, down to her thighs, and a soft deep gray sweater. There was a sort of bleeding sentiment, beginning to seep into your everyday life, into wondering what Wednesday would think of the book you were reading, imagining her reaction to Bianca’s quip, overthinking her hand clutching your sleeve in the courtyard.

You deliberated, vaguely, what it would be like if you tumbled down the mountainside, into those trees—would the wood be cushioning or bruising? It was a serious consideration, with all that you were feeling. Those damned feelings, ones that Wednesday would undoubtedly scorn, made you kick up the gravel underfoot in frustration.

Beside you, Wednesday cast an uninterested look over you at the noise, silently judging. A beat passed. She grabbed the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, and pulled you into a bruising kiss.

“I am going in the car. The back seat. Be not afraid.” She retreated, and gave a little smirk, one reserved for the golden light and dark trees.

It was purely unfair, as the blood rushed from your head to pool in your stomach, making your heart work overtime. Stumbling to the back seat, you’d barely sat down before Wednesday reached over to the console and locked the doors. She’d taken off her boots, leaving her legs clad in white socks scrunched around her calves.

She climbed into your lap without preamble, squeezing your hips with her thighs. The car roof meant she had to duck her head just a bit, giving you the perfect opportunity to press your lips to hers. Having Wednesday on top of you was the kind of thing that made your head spin. And spinning you were, down into that deep unending abyss where there was only the smell of hot sugar, pine, and iron.

The Midas touch of the setting sun made Wednesday seem even paler, from her exposed knees to her small hands, glowing like some ethereal being. She kissed you as if she could wrap her teeth around you, like searching for sweetness in the corners of your mouth. Sure enough, there was something about her, a sense of urgency, that threatened to take in all of you.

“This dress is nice,” you murmured, pushing it up her pale thighs, rubbing away the red marks her boots left on her calves. Your hands continued upward, to the light dampness of her inner thighs.

“You said you liked it last time.” Wednesday immediately glanced away, as if she hadn’t meant to say those words. There was a faint flush to her cheeks again, but the two of you were fogging up the car windows.

You ignored the pulsing in your stomach that traitorously screamed she wore this for me? “It’s enchanting,” you said. “Like a witch of the wood.”

You nosed your way into the nape of her neck again, a favorite spot of yours, unable to stop your stupid mouth from running. “I adore it…” You pulled her tighter to your lap, skimming the seam of her underwear at the juncture of her thigh. “Can I touch you, Wednesday?”

“Get on with it,” she said, breathlessly, indulging you with a quick quirk of her lips.

Skimming the back of your hand up between her thighs, you sent your other hand to palm her chest through her dress. You felt her through her panties, the fabric soft and smooth from her slick. Dipping your hand below the waistband, you wasted no time finding her clit. Her breath came down hard—it was her tell, you knew, even when her face remained mostly impassive.

She was sensitive today, back arching with a small gasp as soon as you touched her. Hand shooting past your head, Wednesday grabbed onto the headrest, hard enough for the leather to creak. Her outstretched arm was right next to your head, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss the inside of her elbow.

She sighed, unfurling tendrils of a storm in smooth skies. “You have all of me,” Wednesday said, something soft.

You press a kiss to Wednesday's forehead, equally soft, as you curl your fingers again. “If only, Wednesday,” you said, unthinking.

Wednesday froze, squeezing her other hand on your shoulder hard enough to leave pretty bruises under your collared shirt.

You pulled back, cocking your head. “What is it?”

She furrowed her brow at you, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then glanced away quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Your fingers traced another circle around her clit.

“Stop asking.” Her voice was firm, but it had a waver in the middle, like she’d almost changed her mind.

“I’ll stop asking,” you whispered, “if you tell me what’s up.” Her eyes were glazed over with a sheen not unlike her slick that coated your fingers, something shiny and sweet.

“You’re hopeless,” she said, not even a second before she clapped her hand over your mouth.

What an Addams wants, an Addams gets, you surmised, blinking quickly. You rubbed your free hand up and down her thigh, trying to soothe her, but she only moved her hand to grip your jaw, her intent the sear of fire through the underbrush.

“I do not like repeating myself,” she said quietly, “so listen closely.” She shifted closer to you on your lap, car leather squeaking, settling on her knees so your nose was in her collar. She reached down and gave you a handkerchief from her pocket. Knowing what she meant, you pulled your fingers from her warmth, feeling a hard lump in your throat. “And make no noise.”

You nodded. She looked wild on top of you, hair mussed from your make out session, the apples of her cheeks a dusty rose.

“Honesty colors me,” she said by way of explanation. “And you talk too much, so this is how it will have to be.” She seemed to think for a moment, biting her lip. Her burgundy lipstick contrasted so starkly with her gray sweater, as if she was the only screaming color in a black and white world. She might hate that, you mused absently. Maybe she was more a whirlpool of the blackest black, sucking in all of the color and light around it so that you had no choice but to be drawn in, to the only real thing you’d ever known.

“You’re stupid,” Wednesday started, matter-of-factly. “Just like everyone else.” You nodded, used to this sort of thing by now. “But your particular brand of stupidity is showing its truth.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, arms automatically going around her waist while you leaned back to look at her. Where she was going with this, you had no idea. You only knew that that whirlpool was making its way closer and closer to you.

“At first, our… arrangement was indeed purely physical.” She paused. “But things have changed, quite drastically. I do believe I’ve reached a… point of no return, but I have since found a balance.”

Wednesday locked her eyes on yours, unflinching. “I give myself to you time and time again-” the words were unfamiliar from her mouth- “yet, you seem to give no indication that you know. ‘If only?’ It’s nearly laughable.” She gave a huff, though her gaze was contemplative. You cocked your head, mind uncomprehending, mouth dry.

“You have my heart, beating or still.” Her words rang quiet in the car. Your own heart started up again, with all the betrayal of a thrumming bass. You tried to push it down, but it didn’t erase the reality of what Wednesday had just said—did Wednesday ever lie? She was good at it, sure, but you’d long learned that Wednesday’s word was her end. “And it appears as though you are completely unaware.”

“Unaware?” You broke her rule, and you could see the tick of annoyance in her eyes. But you plowed on anyway. “Are you saying that you have my—that I don’t know that I have your—that you like me?”

“My devotion is more than that,” Wednesday said casually, “but it may be that you’re unable to handle that at this time.”

Sure enough, you could feel your body informing your mind that you were hyperventilating, Wednesday’s weight on your lap the only thing keeping you from shooting off to Saturn.

“I don’t—” you struggled for your words, the usual wit you showed while bickering with Wednesday, the strategy you’d used to defend Jericho, absolutely nowhere to be seen.

“Need I pull stars from the sky to prove myself to you?” she said, raising an eyebrow in amusement, as if she wasn’t blowing through every poorly stacked defense of yours. It would be just like Wednesday, for every word of hers to be devastating and world shifting. No one knew Wednesday Addams and remained unchanged—that was just the kind of person she was, romantic as murder via blade. Perhaps to her, your wide eyed reaction was enough of a damning confession. “You’ll be the end of me, but what bliss that would be.”

“Um,” you started, eloquently. “You’re… you’re not thinking straight,” you rasped out, mind freezing. You could feel your back stuck to the seat, unyielding. “You’re—”

“If I didn’t know you and your oblivious tendencies, I would think that it is almost insulting of you to doubt me.” She gave a small sniff, chin held high. “You think that just because you do not recognize my words, means that I am not in a right state of mind?”

In one fluid motion, she pressed her forehead to yours, and cradled your face between her two cold hands. Your name felt like salvation from her lips; “believe me, I’m wide awake.”

Your jaw went slack, and you were sure you looked as much a dumbass as you felt.

“I intended for my… vulnerability,” Wednesday’s voice wavers on the word, “to be a sign for you, but either you are just that unobservant, or you are unwilling to admit to what is right before your eyes.”

“I’d never not pick up on something on purpose, Weds.” Your brain was wading through a thick mud, unable to turn at the speed that Wednesday wanted.

“Does that mean that you are willfully disregarding the way I show myself to you?” Finally, in her words, you were able to see the exact vulnerability that she had alluded to.

“No, I’d never, I just… didn’t want to hope,” you said, embarrassed. “Romance isn’t your thing.”

“It’s not,” she replied simply, quietly. “I understand your reservations.” Wednesday’s hands held an imperceptible tremble, but her gaze was strong.

“No—of course I—” your throat tightened, but you felt the weight falling from your shoulders anyway. That was something you recognized. “Of course I like you.”

The silence rang yet again, and Wednesday’s eyes widened, the onyx of them turning warm as molten metal. The exact expression in them was hard to place, but it calmed you, in the wake of speaking aloud something you’d been afraid to admit to yourself.

A thought occurred to you, more clear than any you’d had since Wednesday had opened her mouth. “Even if we’d never—if we never have sex again, I’d still l—like you.”

Despite the way you stumbled into and over your words, Wednesday’s dark eyes on yours grew warm, pupil blurring into iris; the corner of her mouth gave an upwards tick.

“In the cracks of light,” Wednesday whispered, reverent as prayer as her fingertips traced your cheekbone, “I see the heaven on earth I’ve won with you.”

She kissed you then, and you couldn’t hold back any more. It was something like pure relief—though your mind still didn’t quite comprehend Wednesday’s confession (confession!), your heart broke the dam, pulling you down past inhibition. Spiraling to Wednesday’s gravity, it was as natural as breathing to give in.

Wednesday, all knowing as always, must’ve seen the way your resolve broke. She slid her mouth against yours, open and hot, unhurried but eager. The car leather under your thighs was as warm as Wednesday on top of you—not even she was immune to the rays of waning sunlight, it seemed.

“You know,” you muttered, between capturing her lips, “it’s just like you to say all that about moving heaven and earth. Most people just say ‘I like you.’” It wasn’t a complaint by any means; with your hands on her waist, you’d have it no other way.

“As I said, it is more than that.” She took a breath, completely steady and confident, now. “You consume me, completely.”

“And you, I,” you said softly, as if you could do anything but agree to her heady desire. “I’ve got you, Wednesday.”

Her forehead dropped to your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around you. It took a moment for you to realize that in her silence after your words, she was grinding down, near imperceptibly, into your lap.

“Mmm, my love,” you murmured, the significance of the endearment not lost on you, “look at you.” Sliding a hand up her back to her hair, you felt her braids through your fingers. You ran your hands down once more, under her sweater to feel the muscles around her shoulder blades. The heat you felt through her dress from where she was pressed to you, through your trousers, was something out of a darkest dream, unable to be forgotten.

Wednesday leaned up again, eyes sharp as a lance, to brand you with a kiss. She bit your lip, breaking through skin, and you grinned at the pain. It was hard and harsh, comforting like the thin edge of a knife. You felt the blood seeping into the seams of your teeth, rain in scorched earth. Intoxicated, you seemed to float closer into that sweet and dark whirlpool.

“That hurt, Wednesday…” you leaned in, voice dropping. “I wanna…” There was a beat of silence where you could only taste the copper in your mouth, sweet as you knew the slick between her thighs to be. You shifted your grip to her hips, bruising, and the soft little moan Wednesday gave in response spurred you on. “I wanna hurt you.”

You did, helplessly. Of course, you would rain hell on anyone that so much as lifted a finger against Wednesday, but to hold her trust that came with pain—you wanted that from her, to know when she hurt, when she wanted to hurt. Whether it was holding her back from the edge, or flying and dropping together to the bottom, bodies crashing against one another, you wanted it. Like something out of a classical myth, with wings of wax or blood, you would burn and be burned to feel the weightless warmth of that golden light.

There was no hesitation for Wednesday, just a look in her eyes that you’d come to know intimately as hunger. “Hurt me.” Her voice was low, nearly fond, in your ear as her eyes tracked the blood collecting on your lips. She leaned towards you and licked, tongue to your teeth, translucent saliva mixing with the burgundy. “I want it to hurt—I want you to hurt me.”

When she leaned back, her lipstick was stained with your blood, and it made you want to bleed if only she was the one taking it. You leaned your temple to her jawline, eyes burning at the sun through the windshield. Your hands continued once again up her thighs, just as reverent as before. The two of you never could do anything by half—you were always Wednesday’s. Realizing it, speaking it aloud, confessing or not, couldn’t have changed that. Despite that, as you rocked back and kissed the blood off Wednesday, you felt as though you were on your knees, professing everything you were. Giving one last cheeky swipe of your tongue on her lips, you went to tug Wednesday’s panties down. She followed your lead easily, tossing the expensive garment somewhere to the side.

“My sweet girl,” you sighed, something possessive curling in your words. “What would you like?”

“Everything.” There was a devout way about her utterance that had your hands shaking with the desire to fulfill her. “Touch me.”

Crossing one arm around her to clasp the back of her neck, you brought her face close to yours, the tips of your noses brushing.

“Everything? How much can we do with ‘everything’ when you’re so sensitive, angel?” On cue, Wednesday’s eyes slipped shut as you drew a finger along her pussy to find her wet and wanting.

“Don’t you think you should be the one to answer that?” Her voice, bold and challenging, shook up your stomach like champagne. You were completely, utterly ruined before Wednesday Addams, and it was a nearly celestial ruin, so bright and beloved it nearly hurt.

You didn’t hesitate, slipping your finger in and grinding your palm on her clit. You didn’t miss her knees sliding further apart, that elusive grin gracing her face as she tipped her head back. Only her tight hold on your shoulders kept her from falling into your lap. Your mouth tasted of iron, such a contrast to Wednesday’s burnt sugar sweat on your tongue as you licked a stripe up her jaw to bite her earlobe. Drawing every small sigh out, you took your time, curling your fingers the way you knew she liked. You squeezed your hand, heavy where her shoulders met her neck. The jagged breaths she took in response made you crave more, and your stomach burned with contentment when she let you press another finger inside of her.

Wednesday’s half lidded eyes tracked down your neck, hunter to the scent of fear, leaving a shiver in her wake. It was inexplicably easy to discern what she wanted, even as she threaded her hands in your hair, something tingling and distracting.

“Go ahead, I know you want to.” Like blood rushing back into white fingertips, her soft lips were on your neck, undoubtedly leaving a smear of lip stain that you’d have to be chastised to wipe off. Almost as if she’d read your mind, she was sucking at your skin, impatient. Already you could feel the raised welt, and the way her tongue soothed the strain.

“You’re mine,” she breathed out, harsh despite the way she was panting with every twist of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the haze of being Wednesday’s blurring your every action. “I’m yours.”

You curled your fingers, and had to bite down a moan as her teeth sank deeper into your neck, a cause and effect that you’d kill for. You swore as she set sight on your jawline, the sweet shock of her hot tongue making you shiver.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered darkly—it seemed she was satisfied with the state of your neck, since you could feel the skin throbbing pleasantly. She leaned back, proffering her own throat.

“I was always yours,” you said easily. “I can just…” you trailed off as your sharp teeth met her skin in the spot you knew she liked, making her cry out, “show you better now.”

Wednesday’s hands tightened in your hair, pulling a broken gasp from your throat. Her smirk, challenging as she took in your reaction, only spurred you on. It was pure selfishness, when you grinned lazily as she tugged. You gave as good as you got, though, each curl of your fingers and shift of your hand had her trembling.

She was close; you could feel it in the uneven cadence of her breath, almost as erratic as yours. Pulling the collar of her sweater aside, you worked your tongue against her jugular, her pulse tempting and honey sweet in your mouth. It was nearly tangible between your teeth, soft and solid, the pounding of her pulse, just milliseconds away from your own.

“C’mon, Wednesday,” you whispered in her ear, “just like that.”

Her breath stuttered, climbing up higher to the returning lump in your throat. It was always a marvel, the way that Wednesday was so incredibly responsive to you, your touch or your words. The hard catch of her lip between her teeth made you grin, and you reached out, tugging it free. You leaned in to kiss her forehead as you slipped your thumb in her mouth instead, your fingers never stopping.

“Wednesday.” She turned her glossy eyes towards you, and it was the closest you’d ever seen her to coming without really falling. “Let go.”

At your words, she gasped, and you could feel her cunt pulse around your fingers as she came. Her teeth bit into your skin and her eyebrows knitted together ever so gently—you loved to watch her come undone. She was all soft moans and flushed cheeks, open in a way that she hardly ever was otherwise. It unfurled something bright and warm in your chest, spreading out into your fingertips. You felt as hazy as she looked, the smell of her spilling into the air and undoubtedly lingering in your chest.

“That’s perfect, love, you’re so good for me.” You shushed her as she panted, eyes unfocused beneath her mussed fringe, but searing into yours. You continued your palm on her clit, holding her tight as her body stuttered. You moved your hand to cup her face, smoothing over unshed tears along her waterline.

“You’re…” Wednesday gave a low groan as you hit that sensitive spot inside of her again, none too gently.

“Yes,” you answered gently. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, won’t you?” She nodded, eager, as she pushed her hips into your hand, even though it made her whole body shiver.

“Fuck—”

You hummed in response, feeling her cunt open even easier now that she was impossibly wetter. As you worked a third finger into her, Wednesday’s spine went rigid, a whining, desperate sound you’d never thought you’d hear breaking from her throat. She grabbed your hand, and her palms were damp. Her grip on your wrist was tight, just as much keeping you from progressing as it was keeping you from pulling away. You leaned in by her ear. “Does it hurt?”

She gave a jerky nod, jaw clenched and lips parted. You would turn a storm on its head for those ways that Wednesday strayed from her control, especially when you were the one guiding that meandering path. Pressing the heel of your hand into her clit, you laughed, small and indulgent, as she clung tighter to you, a strained little cry escaping.

“Good girl, Wednesday… you’re taking it so well, aren’t you? You’re taking me so well, darling…” Fisting the front of her sweater in your hand, you pulled her off balance, tugging her close so her lips fell to yours, easy as breathing. Swallowing every single prized whimper that fell from her, you kissed her slow. Wednesday was already sensitive, but this was intense for even her, you could tell. Her breath came shakily against you as you pulled away, having smeared her lipstick to your content. Fingers sliding punishingly against her clit, your laugh rumbled low in your chest as she keened, soft and just a bit pleading.

“Very good, Wednesday, my love,” you coaxed. Her gasp, more like a sob, washed over you in a satisfaction that made you shudder. The slick from her previous orgasm clung to your hand, making it easy to keep up your punishing pace. Her tears shined like sea glass in her lashes, as devout to the cause of ruining her cheeks as the dusk outside was to darkness. You had no idea how much time had passed, only that if she asked, you’d stay right here with her until daylight again.

“I’m—” A whine rose from her throat, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You can do it, baby-” your thumb circled her clit as your fingers found their way impossibly deeper into Wednesday- “just for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she repeated, mindlessly. This world where Wednesday let herself trust you to take care of her was one you could live in, drown in, make your home in. You raised your hand to the juncture of her neck and jaw, heavy and comforting. Reminded of every time Wednesday had put her hand in that same place on you when you were on your knees in front of her, more intimate than anything, you tugged on her wrist, instantly missing her hold in your hair. Intertwining your fingers together, you held your hands together in between you and Wednesday.

Without a warning, her fingers tightened around yours, so hard that her knuckles turned white. You could see that how hard she came took her by surprise, too—eyes wide open and pupils blown. It was breathtaking, you thought, just how much tension was in her, all tense shoulders and choked cry. Her nails dug into your skin, her grip tethering you from dropping off with her. It stung, and you loved it, the maroon of your blood welling up just enough to smear her fingertips.

Wednesday’s head fell into the nape of your neck, nuzzling like she could find the world’s secrets in your skin. Hand still in hers, you wiped away the smeared burgundy around the corners of her mouth with your thumb pad, fingers lingering.

“That was devious,” she murmured, words blurring around each other.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled. She nodded, somewhat resolutely. You eased your fingers out, tucking them surreptitiously into your mouth. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Wednesday, but she only narrowed her eyes.

Even in her post-orgasm daze, Wednesday looked dangerous. Her fringe was all over the place, getting caught in her eyelashes, and you could finally attribute the pink in her cheeks to something a little more than the fogged up windows. Surely, this was heaven on earth, having Wednesday with you, steady as planetal orbit. You shifted her to sit sideways in your lap, making sure her knees didn’t burn from the leather. She was watching you, carefully. It was almost as if she was trying to memorize you, the studious way she looked at you, like she was the sole messenger for a world that wasn’t allowed to take you in. It made your heart pound, finally in accordance with your head. You let her take her time in your arms, rubbing her shoulders. The little press of her lips was back, something you had adored for something dangerously similar to ‘forever.’ She seemed content in a way she hardly ever was, the haze in her eyes clearing as she studied you.

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you,” she commented, not unkindly.

You looked down into Wednesday’s face, at the night air drifting through her hair again. You could feel the sting from the little crescent shaped marks that her nails left. It was a warm contrast to her cold hand in yours, clasped between you. “You changed me, Wednesday.”

wednesday: you have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul… i love, i love, i love you.

reader: huh?

a/n cont’d for those brave souls that made it this far: yes, wednesday’s dress has pockets. isn’t that wonderful?

I’m SO BAD at writing fluff. plus, reader is the most unreliable narrator to unreliably narrate. should’ve put “painfully oblivious” as a warning for part one too.

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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norrizzandpia · 4 months

Note

hello, firstly i would like to say ur writing is phenomenal!! secondly i wanted to request something like the reader having some insecurities or just social media making her feel unworthy of lando thank u 🫶🏼

Ive been hanging onto this request for a while bc i love these scenarios bc they hit so close to home and I always need to be in the right mindset for them and now i am!

Love You the Way I Do (LN4)

Summary: When Y/n starts to pull back, Lando knows exactly what to do.

Warnings: insecurities, talks of not being good enough, language

Note: the reason ive been so mia on here is because ive just been in such a bad slump and not feeling good about myself or feeling good enough in general and im starting to get out of it with a lot of time focusing on myself but i really miss it on here so im using this as a way to kind of help me cope a bit with what ive been going through recently

Y/n was never good with her emotions. Discussing them and trying to work on them, she could never reach a certain level of comfortability with the people in her life that allowed her to be that vulnerable with them. Her parents, friends, and other family members had to pry words out of her when it was clear she was struggling and no amount of therapy sessions had cured the vicious cycle. However, Lando’s peaceful presence in her life had shifted the way she operated, allowed her to open up more easily with the way he would hold her until she was ready.

He was patient, almost strategic, when it came to getting through to her. Past moments of darkness where she would try to shut him out, try to be alone in the agony, were lessons in which ways worked best to get her to realize that he was there for her, waiting with open arms and constantly ready to listen.

Easing her mind, that was Lando’s job and he was damn good at it.

He could always tell when there was a war going on beneath the walls of her head. When she would go quiet or laugh just a bit less, he caught on fast. Just like now, as he sat on the couch in their shared apartment and watched her talk to her sister on the phone in the kitchen, Lando clocked the way she wasn’t as smiley, as excited to talk to one of her favorite people in the world.

“Thursday? No, I can’t do Thursday. I’ve got some stuff to do.” She mumbled into the speaker. Lando could hear her sister respond, something about Y/n being too busy, but he couldn’t truly digest the words, too engrossed in his own mind wondering what she had Thursday.

If he remembered correctly, she had nothing scheduled.

The second sign; distancing herself from people close to her and staying inside unhealthily.

She paced the room, rounding each corner of the counter as she bit the nail on her thumb, “Friday, no… next Monday, no… next Wednesday, no…”

Their conversation continued that way until her sister gave up on trying to find a date, muttering about letting her know when the next date Y/n was available was, and hung up. His girlfriend set the phone down on the marble, head falling forward as she huffed out a breath.

“You okay, love?” He spoke, voice hesitant as to not startle very clearly something loud in her mind.

She turned her eyes, squinting at him lightly before whispering, almost too quietly, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

A tired Y/n, Lando knew, warranted clinginess. That was her usual way of remedying exhaustion, curling up in his arms wherever he was and partaking in a Power Nap. Although, there was none of that as she walked out of the kitchen, turning a corner and disappearing behind their bedroom door.

Third sign; shutting Lando out, the one he hated the most.

He scrolled through his phone for a minute more, not wanting her to know he had already realized her turmoil. He wanted her to believe that his comfort was not out of pity, but love.

When the clock reached an even number, he got up from his seated position and pattered over to their door, knocking lightly.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” He said, though there was no response. He creaked the door open, seeing her frame turned away from him as it laid on their bed, her phone illuminating the room.

Because of the darkness and the only light coming from her phone, he could easily see what she was looking at. It was as clear as day and the reason for her distance, however painful, became apparent.

A twitter thread of why Luisa was better for Lando than Y/n.

It broke his heart.

He stood for a moment, taking in the scene before him and breathing deeply, and deciding his plan of action. It only took him a few seconds, although, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to her.

Lando approached her side of the bed and when his footsteps reached the ears of his beloved, she turned her phone off quickly. He kneeled down beside her, dried tears on her cheeks not going unnoticed by him. His hand cradled the side of her face that wasn’t pushed into her pillow and he kissed her forehead.

“Baby, I saw what you were looking at.” He whispered into the quiet. His green eyes bore into hers as she willed the knot in her throat to dissipate.

Lando gently took her phone from her hands, sliding it off the bed and setting it on the night stand next to him. He nudged her shoulder, signaling for her to move over so he could squeeze into her side of their massive bed. When he laid down, his arms wrapped tightly around her frame, squeezing the skin and warming it as she nuzzled her head into his chest.

“Why are you doing this to yourself? You know they’re wrong.” He tried.

Y/n pulled away from his chest, looking up at him and using her voice, albeit wobbly, “Do I know they’re wrong? Lan, you mean so much to so many people in this world, people you don’t even know the names of.”

He nodded, “Okay, yes, what does that have to do with this?”

She sniffled, “There are so many other women that could compliment you better. Women that people know the name of. Women that have made their mark on this world just like you have. I will never be able to be what you need me to be.”

Lando shook his head, her words outrageous in his mind because she was already everything he needed, just as she was.

“Y/n, what? What are you even saying? That’s crazy. You mean everything to me. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about anyone else, anything else. You compliment my life and my happiness perfectly. That’s all that matters.”

Wetness formed beneath her eyes once more and began to fall freely as she toyed with the hem of his shirt, “What if you wake up one day and realize that Luisa is better suited for the life you lead? What if one day you wake up and I am no longer good enough for you?”

Lando gaped at her, truly at a loss for words. In his mind, everything she was saying was so incredibly wrong, she couldn’t be farther from the truth. However, from the sadden look in her eyes, he could tell that she fully believed the things flying from her mouth. That idea, the thought that she was scared one day he would no longer cherish her in the way he does now, made him all the more determined to remind how much she matters to him and how that will never change.

“Y/n, stop. Listen to yourself. Have I ever made you feel inadequate?” He questioned, staring at her fiercely as if what she was saying made him defensive. It did in a way. He was defensive of the love he had for her, taking shame in the fact that he had made her feel as though their relationship would end.

She shook her head as he brought his fingers up to wipe at the tears still falling down her skin, “No, but-”

He brought his pointer finger to her lips, “No buts, Y/n. Listen to me when I tell you this. You have been and always be more than enough for me. You are the start and end of my day, and that is something I never want to change. Being scared that one day I’ll wake up and magically have fallen out of love with you is absolutely fucking clinically insane. It’s been two years we’ve been together, Y/n, and I still badger you at the end of the day, asking what you had done because I love to hear your voice. I love your rambles and I love the way you love me. There’s nothing that’s going to make me want to stop loving you because there’s really no going back. I’m in this with you and I always will be. You need to believe that. Believe me when I say the only way we will end is lying next to each other on our death beds with rings on our left fingers from our wedding decades ago.”

“That’s kind of morbid.” She whispered, a small smile gracing her features as his words sunk beneath her skin.

He chucked and leaned further into her, “It’s true. There will come a time where I get on one knee in front of you and beg you to be with me for the rest of our lives. There will come a time where I will stand in front of all of our friends and family, and declare my love for you and certainty over marrying you. I know these things will happen because I am interchangeably in love with you. And I know you are with me too. So, just leave social media be, baby. Stay here in this moment with me, push all those disgusting fans away and listen to my words. I love you,” He shook her head lightly in his hands as he spoke, “You are worthy of my love and love in general, and there will never come a singular moment where even the thought of leaving you passes my brain. We are it for each other, love. This is it for me.”

Her body relaxed fully into his arms and further into the bed as they stared at each other. Y/n giggled at his words and he smiled down at her, still holding her face whilst lightly rubbing excess tears in her soft skin.

A silence passed before Y/n mumbled, “I think I’m going to delete my social media platforms for a while. Take some time off and get back on track.”

Warmth swelled in Lando’s chest, threatening to spill out from his mouth at overwhelming amounts of it within his body.

“I’m so proud of you, love.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss her softly. He pecked her lips lovingly, sweet nothings spilling from his mouth in the form of the warmth that had been drowning him.

They stayed that way for a few hours, both falling in out of sleep in the arms of the other. And when crickets chirped and the clock read an ungodly time, Lando pulled Y/n from bed, into their bathroom, where he showed her how much he loved her. A bath, some face masks, and low music that he made her dance with him along to, all worked as ways for him to tangibly exude the feelings he had for her. No longer were the ex’s of his past, no longer were jealous fans, no longer were thoughts of unworthiness.

Just him, her, and the love that would never die out.

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incendiobrock · 27 days

Text

Drunk Confessions {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: Chris, Nick, and fem!reader attend the Tara Yummy party and some drunken confessions are made later on in the night.

A/N: I kinda hate how I wrote this but my account is seriously lacking Chris content so hopefully you will enjoy anyways lmao, if it's not too shitty lmk if you might want a part 2

Warnings: drinking, mentions of throwing up, super sweet, fluffy chris 🥹

“Alright, you guys have fun!” Matt said as he dropped you Nick, and Chris off at the front of the building. You could hear the music blasting through the walls as people celebrated Tara. Matt wasn’t really feeling up to going to a party which worked perfectly in your favor knowing you had a reliable DD to pick you up later in the night. Chris and Nick wouldn’t drink either but you would never trust them to safely operate a vehicle so Matt was the best choice for the job.

Nick walked ahead of you as Chris stayed by your side, his right hand lightly touching your lower back as he guided you both inside. You all had smiles etched onto your face as you entered the upbeat atmosphere filled with some of your influencer friends. Tara immediately saw you guys and pulled you into a hug, “Thank you so much for coming!” She shouted over the music.

“We wouldn’t miss it!” You replied, congratulating her on hitting a million subscribers. Your eyes scanned the room noticing the bar, officially deciding that would be your next stop. Chris’s hand never left your lower back as he and Nick continued to talk to Tara. “I’ll be right back,” You said into Chris’s ear, departing the group.

The bar was filled with people trying to order different drinks. A special menu placed in the center with some specific drinks for Tara. You ordered a vodka cran and even got roped into taking a shot with some others that were at the bar. Without your knowledge, Chris kept a close eye on you from across the room. He loved seeing you have fun, especially knowing that you had been stressed with other things the past few weeks.

You needed to let loose and have a little fun, he thought. The liquor burned going down your throat as you took your shot, using a lime wedge as your chaser. Before you knew it, you were a few drinks in, and maybe a couple shots.

You felt like you were floating through the crowd as you made your way back to your friends. You wrapped an arms around both Chris and Nick’s shoulders, standing in between the two. “Heyyyy,” You slurred slightly.

“Where have you been?” Nick chuckled, trying to keep you supported as you swayed slightly into his side. “Yeah, you’ve been all over the place tonight. I saw you over at the bar and then over by the-“ Chris began before you cut him off.

“I wanna dance! Can we please danceee?” You begged, dragging out the end of your sentence. “You guys got this,” Nick said, passing you off to Chris. “Good luck kid.”

You looked up at Chris with big puppy dog eyes, silently restating your request to dance. “Of course, let’s go dance.” He said, placing his hand out for you to take hold of. His fingers interlocked with yours as he pulled you to the crowd of other people dancing. One of your favorite hype songs came on and you felt like you were on top of the world. You were facing Chris with a hand placed on each of his shoulders while his held your waist. You were both jumping around and singing the lyrics to one another. You couldn’t help but admire him as the flashing lights illuminated his face. Maybe it was the alcohol running through your veins but you wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a kiss.

After dancing for a few more songs Chris leaned down to your ear and yelling over the music, “You ready to go? Matt is here to pick us up!” A soft smile played on your face as you nodded, head still spinning from the drinks.

Chris had to practically lift you into your seat as your body stumbled to step up into the vehicle. “Okay- Okay sit still let me buckle you in.” Chris laughed, watching as you immediately started to fill Matt in on the night. The seatbelt buckle latched into place and Chris went to shut your door and hop into the passenger seat. “Chris-“ Your voice comes out in a whine, he glances behind his shoulder looking at you worried. “Are you gonna be sick?”

You shook your head ‘no’, staring into his eyes as he searched your face trying to figure out what was wrong. “Can you sit with me?” Nick agrees and switches seats with his brother, taking over the passenger seat. Chris’s fingers found your hair as he playfully brushed his fingers through it. The drive home was about twenty minutes and you didn’t know if you would make it. Nausea settled in your stomach as the alcohol mixed with the moving car. You ended up rolling down the window to get some fresh, cool air.

As soon as Matt pulled into the garage you were lunging out your door and inside the house. You ran to Chris’s bathroom, not having enough time to shut the door before you were over the toilet bowl. This wasn’t how you were planning on ending the night. Embarrassment started to settle in when you heard footsteps entering the bathroom. “Go awayyy,” you couldn’t lift your head up but you knew who stood in the doorway. The presence was by your side that very next second, “I’m not leaving.” His voice was barely above a whisper, trying to be gentle with you knowing you weren’t feeling well.

“Chris please, this is so embarrassing. I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know you are kid. I brought you some water, do you need anything else?”

“Maybe a shower.” You grumble.

Chris stood up and turned on the hot water for you, letting it heat up before you got in. Delicately, he helped you get out of the outfit you had on as you faced away from him, not wanting to expose yourself. His hand on your bare back as he helped get you into the shower.

Chris stayed right outside the shower, scrolling on his phone but making sure he was readily available if you needed anything. After the shower, you were being dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers.

Your body collided with his mattress as you pulled the covers over your body. Chris got in bed beside you, laying flat on his back and keeping a healthy distance between you two. “Can we please cuddle?” You whisper. Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your torso.

“Thank you, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it kid. It’s no problem.”

Kid. That stupid nickname fell out of his mouth again for the second time tonight. It definitely didn’t feel very nice to hear him say it. You might regret this tomorrow but you were still feeling brave right now.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up.” He asked, looking down at your face as it continued to rest on his chest.

“I love you.”

A chuckle escaped past his lips, “I love you too-“

“No Chris. Like, I love you… I have for so long.” You watched as he tried to process the new information, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“I was scared to tell you because you’re like my best friend and I didn’t want to ruin that but, it’s true. I love you so much.” You finished your little spiel.

“I feel the same way about you, but please let’s talk about this tomorrow. I want you to be able to remember this.” He was so gentle with you, he always was. You had such a special spot that he held in his heart for you. You were sad that he didn’t want to talk about this right now but you knew he was probably right, he normally was. You wanted to remember this conversation and you weren’t certain that you would remember anything when you woke up the next morning.

“Go to sleepy pretty girl, I will talk to you about this in the morning. I want to be able to kiss you when you’re in the right state of mind.” His lips pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, lulling you to sleep.

#chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic

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sanguineterrain · 24 days

Note

Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood x you #Red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc imagine #Jason todd x gn reader #inbox #blurb

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dcxdpdabbles · 9 months

Text

Phantom's number 1 Fan. Part 2

Tim wakes a few days later, half submerged in liquid and hooked to various machines. He is in a tub shaped like a bed, obviously meant to sleep in. Around him is what he hopes is a hospital room with medical tools scattered about and soft blue paint that turns to the night sky the higher it goes on the wall.

On the ceiling are paintings of various constellations. It's rather beautiful.

Tim also notices he feels no pain. None. Not even the aches of his bones after years of abuse while fighting crime. He thinks that's a bit strange since the last thing he could clearly remember was barely escaping Ra's al Ghul, losing his spleen, and gaining more wounds from angry assassins on his way out.

He had been flying half-blind, blinking in and out of awareness. He thinks at one point, Cassie had attempted to call him, and he may have answered, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he told her.

He did remember what she said in response. She sounded so desperate as she begged over the S-Batplane speakers. "Please, Tim, you're not well. Let us help you. Just tell me where you are."

Too bad for her, since the S in S-Batplane stand for Secert because Tim had built that one on his own in Secert. There was no way she or any of the hero community could track him in it since they had no idea it existed until Tim had taken it and his supplies on his solo mission to save Bruce.

Tim will admit that he is happy they noticed he went missing- even if it was three months too late. Not that it mattered much. The rest of the Bats wanted nothing to do with him. The world only saw him as a young easy wallet as a shiny new CEO. And his friends were all dead or convinced he was insane by Dick.

Tim didn't have anyone to notice he was gone anymore. But Bruce needed him to push through the ache and get him home.

As the Robin who Bruce trained to put the mission first no matter the cost, the one that came after Jason's death so, Bruce stopped allowing himself to think of Robin as a son and more along the lines of a soldier; he quickly shut down the crying child that wailed for someone to believe him, to support him.

Sometimes it felt like Tim was still waiting by the door of Drake Manor, waiting for someone to come and care for him, to stay for him.

The door to his room opens, snapping Tim back to the present. He automatically stiffens, expecting more of the League of Assassins. He can't remember much, but he guessed he was captured by the fact he was sitting in a green glowing water.

He was not, however, expecting a Yeti to walk in, reading a clipboard.

The Yeti looks up, bearing its teeth at Tim when he notices him awake. It takes a moment to realize the action is supposed to be a smile. "Great One's Honored Guest, I am so glad you have awakened. I am FrostBite, your doctor for the remainder of your recovery."

Okay. Ra's has Yetis at his disposal.

He was the only person that Tim knew as the "Great One." Usually, his most loyal operatives too, which means he was deep within Ra's territory.

FrostBrite pauses for a response, but when Tim remains silent, he holds up his board. "It seems to me that most of your wounds have healed. The only problem is that your spleen could not be salvaged due to the damage."

Tim fights to keep the despair off his face. He figured that was the case, seeing as Ras's had it in a jar, but he had hoped.

"...I understand this may be a difficult adjustment. You will always have to be careful when being ill. Even a simple cold could be disastrous." Frostbite steps close, taping one giant claw on the tub's edge. "The Great One has ordered we keep consistent Ecoplasm Baths at the ready for the remainder of your natural life."

Fuck. The Yeti is saying Ra will never let him leave again. It's a threat disguised as a offer of help.

Tim glares down at his hands. They lay within Lazarus' water, gently healing his small scars. This must be some of the purest Lazarus he's ever seen. It must be Ra's own special blend.

The only reason he is wasting it on Tim is that Ra's wants an heir from him. Or for him to become the Heir. He doesn't know, which makes him feel worse but he does know what lust looks like.

It's one that Ra's has aimed at him for too long.

He may as well get this over with. Learn as much as he can. Plan an escape. The best way to do all that is to simply ask.

"When is the wedding?"

Frostbite freezes. "I beg your pardon? Whos wedding?"

"Th Great One and mine" because the madman would never allow a bastard to inherit his empire.

"You and the Great One....are paramours?" Frostbite sounds awe. Shoot his medic doesn't know anything. The Yeti is likely low ranking.

Tim looks away, and the giant white creature jerks into action. "I apologize for not treating the Great One's beloved properly. I shall have servants bring up a meal while you soak. And the finest robe we have! Sweets and messages....offers of gold?....humans always like gold."

He waits until the Yeti leaves, mumbles of giving him the royal treatment echoing in his wake. Tim sighs, sinking into the water. He knows he is being watched as that's what he would do, so for now he needs to stay put and heal.

He's never going to get Bruce back if he acts too rashly without knowing where he is and what else Ra has under his control. Yetis were no easy feat to beat on his own. He like to avoid....a vampire or something too.

Half an hour later, FrostBite returns with the promised meal and change of clothes. Smaller Yetis help him dress in threads of the finest silks. They feel like heaven on his sensitive skin. Tim feels soft and warm all over, pampered beyond belief.

It's been so long since he just had a moment to rest.

He asks for a walk which he is only permitted after Frostbites clears him. It's while he is wandering that he realizes he is in some winter castle. Everywhere he looks, there is ice, snow, and yetis.

He notices all the guards and makes mental maps of possible weak spots. He wonders why he's not freezing despite only being in a thin silk robe. A form of magic?

A few yetis- servants he can tell by their mannerisms- bow as he wanders about. He can't tell where he is based on the sun or the environment. It's....somehow different.

"That's him?" A young female voice asks. He turns his head slightly to catch the speaker in his provisional vision. It's one of the smaller Yetis....he assumes she's a child? Hard to tell when she still towers over him. "The Great One's future spouse?"

"Yes, I heard King Frostbite, himself, tell the Head Butler"

"He's weak," another Yeti says with disapproval. He sounds male but young as well. Not even a teenager. "He does not even have a core."

"He is a human." A much older voice replies. She sounds like Tim's age based on vocal cords. "Humans are not meant to have cores. Despite this he is a formidable fighter. He has to be to have attracted the Great One's eye."

"Maybe not. I heard humans enjoy being cared for like children. They even call partners things like Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?" The boy Yeti sounds horrified.

"Apparently it's seen as attractive"

"That's disgusting."

Tim turns a corner cutting off the conversation as the Yetis snap to attention. They bow low at the waist as he walks by.

He nods at them, which seems to startle a lot of them. Not that he's surprised. The AL Ghuls likely treated them like decorations and never fully acknowledged them.

Tim barely hears the young boy gasp. "He's beautiful."

"That's likely why the Great One is so bestowed."

Tim sighs walking back to his room with a escape plan half formed.

Elsewhere, the rumor mill in the Ghost Zone is running over time as news of King Phantom's human husband-to-be is spread far and wide. Leaders of the Ghost Zone quickly prepare for a ball that will likely be called to celebrate the union.

They have gifts gathered, each wanting to gain favor with the King. The Far Frozen gets overwhelming requests to visit the future Consort, but seeing as King Phantom had to return to the human world, thus leaving his fiancé in their care, they reject all. They do not want the boy to be overwhelmed or caught unawares if he is not tried in any form of politics.

It would not allow him to become a threat to the King's authority's pawn.

This led to even more rumors starting.

By the time they reached John Constine- the only human who has any form of contact with the Realms- the word is that King Phantom's human was currently carrying their child, wanting to marry before the baby was born, and that he was running from a group of humans known as "The Bats."

He was as beautiful as the King Phantom was powerful- which meant he was utterly breathtaking for a human- and that King Phantom was currently in the human world hunting down those who threaten his family.

Across the dimension plane, Danny is blissfully unaware of the misunderstanding as he is busy filling out college scholarship applications. He has only one more year before he graduates, but he would like to go somewhere away from Amity Park.

The Wayne Scholarship is a long and lengthy process, but it will be worth it. A full ride with board and meals? Yes, the housing will be in Gotham but it's a small price to pay.

He wonders if his number one fan has awakened. Frostbite would have contacted him if his guest had escaped the coma.

Tim Drake had been asleep for nearly a week, only kept healthy due to Danny bathing him in his Protective Core ectoplasm and the Yeti's multi-species medical knowledge. As it were, Tim appeared to only be taking a small nap, none of the adverse effects of long slumber appearing on his thin body, but Danny was getting worried.

At this point, he didn't even care how Tim knew his secret. He just wanted him to be alright.

A flash of green light causes Danny to spring away from his laptop, body falling into a natural fighter's stance only to blink at the giant gift wrap present laying on his bed. Cautiously he inspects the gift finding it from Princess Dora.

"May your love lead the Realms into a wonderous future, and may your union bear many children." He reads the small note she had attracted to her gift "What children?"

Pulling open the gift, he stares at two sets of King robes decorated with rubies shaped into snowflakes. More miniature robes and a few booties surround the pair, obviously meant as a family gift.

Tuck to the side of the box is a long and deadly-looking sword. It's pitch black, with a scull as a handle. Dora had tired a scroll to its blade, where she had written My armies are ready to yield to you. You need only to swing this sword, and they shall come to your aid. The Bats will not harm your treasure.

What in the world?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Phantom's number 1 fan #Tim unleased a love story onto the beings of enterity #Danny is super confused #Somewhere John is freaking out about a possible war #Tim does not remember stopping at Danny's

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rodolfoparras · 2 months

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Had a very vivid dream of a man mounting on me, of course I had to turn it into Price always somehow. Also I have an underlying guilt of wanting to be baby trapped so...

Tw: Babytrapping (?) Abo elements

Old man omega Price who has given up on finding a prospective partner years before, until Alpha reader come along.

He can't believe an old man like him snagged someone so young and virile, can satisfy the whole task force but no you choose him, coming to knock at his door if you need a quick "fix" to satiate your alpha.

Of course he's your captain, and a good one takes care of his soldier. Though you refuse to mark him, only a grip at his waist, to make him permanently yours, it clouds doubt in his mind. Say, one plentiful night after a successful operation everyone came down to the base's nearest pub, and every omega preening to take you home.

And he sees blood, although you weren't his, although you only meet at dark to satiate each other's needs, he feels livid seeing you with others, apart of the taskforce or not. He doesn't interfere,broodingly sitting at the corner, finishing bottles of whisky.

So on the off chance, after you've stumbled back to the shared living complex, Price awaits at your door, a beast ready to take it's prey.

He claws at you, sending you tumbling down your bed as you're shred off your clothing. Your make out was quick and fast, Price taking your hardened member and immediately bouncing on it without a care in the world, you not getting a word out on using protection.

You hiss at your climax, gripping onto his waist like it was the thing that was only keeping you grounded from the sheer overstimulation. He hopes it takes, doubling his efforts on riding you.

And at night when you're all tuckered out, drained and beyond. A satisfied hum leaves his lips a hand rubbing his stomach, you may never bite him, claim him as yours.. maybe a baby would change your hesitance

-💫

Content warning: a/b/o, baby trapping, questionable consent, 18+,

Okay but hear me out Price growing more and more fond of the thought of carrying your mark, loses his mind when he feels your lips graze his neck or when you got an iron grip on his throat as you fuck him into the mattresses. It’s even better when the marks from your fingerprints turn into bruises and lingerie for days so that everyone can see them.

It doesn’t take much before he cooks up a plan on how he’ll actually get you to mark him- how he’ll get you to be with him for as long as he lives.

It starts with him riling you up, making you see red by watching him flirt with a good for nothing alpha at some dingy bar while you’re right there.

And when the two of you are all alone, you don’t waste a second before you got him corned, quickly smashing your lips together and ripping the clothes off of him.

But just when he’s about to sink down on your dick you tell him maybe you should wear protection, half heartedly digging around for a condom but he distracts you from it - maybe with a couple of words and with a sweet smile on his face or even with kiss, cerulean eyes watching closely the way your body relaxes under him.

He doesn’t waist a second before he’s realigning your cockhead up with his entrance, and sinking down your dick, swiftly setting a steady pace with his hips.

He deserves this, he thinks to himself as he practically bounces in your lap.

He belongs to you and you belong to him, he thinks to himself, watches you, blurry eyed and mouth agape as he inches closer to the edge.

He’ll have you, even if it means having to put a baby inside him, he thinks to himself, stays seated on your dick even when your knot has long gone down and you’ve long fallen asleep.

#this isn’t perfect but it’s def more than what I’ve written the past days and I really loved this idea !!#call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #bottom male character

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 month

Text

Remember Me

WinterSoldier!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Just a short piece that I managed to finish. I know it's not a lot, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💕

warnings: a bunch of fluff and angst, mentions of war, mentions of sexism, swearing, Bucky is really broken in this one, happy ending (:

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Proceed with caution, unidentified shooter on bridge. I repeat: unidentified shooter. It is not clear what the motive is. Take cover and shoot on sight.”

“Dispatch, this is Captain America - we’ll take it from here.”

“With all due respect, Cap, I will keep my men on site to keep your cover.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do for you, sir.”

“Stop chatting it up with the police and do your job, Rogers.”

“Alright, alright.”

You chuckled and turned to Tony. “How long are we out?”

“Three minutes, 46 seconds.”

“You gonna survive that long, Stevie?”

“That guy’s got a good aim on him, gotta give him that.”

Muffled noises pushed through your earpiece before you stepped into the back of the Quinjet to gear up.

“Can’t let him do anything. It’s one guy they’re fighting... one.”

“Yeah, one Hydra-trained assassin who’s apparently immortal and got more deaths on his record than Romanoff.”

You huffed as the meeting recollected in your mind. The Winter Soldier had been the newest pain in the Avenger’s asses ever since you discovered that Hydra was still operating in the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“They’re just making a show out of everything, huh?”

You strapped your gloves over your wrists and watched as Tony chuckled in the pilot seat. You and him had become good friends over the past few years. Ever since you and Steve had been discovered in the frozen airship of what you had thought to be your last mission about 70 years ago, you and Captain America had woken up in a vastly different world. One through which Howard’s son, Tony, gladly guided you.

Both you and Steve were overwhelmed by the amount of changes the world had endured while you had soundly served your time as human popsicles, though Captain America seemed to struggle a little more with 21st-century technology and norms.

It was fine, Steve had always been a little old-fashioned, even back in the day. You for one were delighted to learn about all the opportunities the world had to offer for women and other people who couldn’t have dreamed of any in the 40s. Because while Steve was celebrated for being the face of hope for the American people, you were still dodging snide comments doubting your place in the Army. And while you tried not to let anyone see the toll it took on you, it was the reason for enough nights you spent with Peggy sharing stories over a bottle of wine.

You both decided the important men in your life should never find out. Though, of course, your not-so-secret didn’t stay hidden from Bucky for long. Which was one of the reasons you had jumped on that plane with Steve. Even when Bucky was already dead. Even when Steve was still oblivious. You constantly needed to prove yourself. But this one time, it had actually changed something – well, time had.

You shook your head free of that thought and walked towards the cargo hatch. Tony had landed the Quinjet – it was go time.

“Ready?”

“That guy won’t know what happened to him when we’re done with him.”

“Let’s rock his world, then,” Tony winked before his helmet closed and he flew out of the jet. You were close behind him, running the short distance from the ramp to the bridge from which you swung yourself off with a grappling hook.

“What’s the status?”

“I’ve been shot.”

“I’ve got it, Bearcat check on Steve. He looks ridiculously helpless.”

“Roger that,” you sprinted towards the two fighting men on the street, as the Winter soldier threw Steve to the ground, his shield nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, my turn.” You stepped in front of him, analyzing his movements, and dodging punches, trying to get some in yourself.

“Oh come on, that’s not fair.” You huffed when he took a knife out of your leg holster and almost acrobatically threw it over your head just to graze your cheek with the blade.

He had knocked off your guns at this point, leaving you with choking wire and some smaller daggers in your jacket. When he turned the right angle, you jumped his shoulders and locked your thighs around his neck, kicking the knife out of his hand and watching as he ripped your choking wire in half. Damn.

“Now, that’s not nice.” You threw the torn metal to the side as The winter soldier struggled to get you off him. A look to Steve told you he had a new plan, and with a short nod, you signaled your understanding to him.

“But if you wanna be like that...” Steve threw you his shield and in a swift motion you managed to drag it over the soldier's head. He pushed his metal arm forward just in time, though your hit had already knocked the mask off his face.

When the shield came down, you heard Steve’s footsteps halt next to you, the world going quiet.

Your stomach churned when you watched blue eyes twitch between the dark smudges. Familiar and oh-so strange at the same time.

“Bucky?” Steve stammered, and at the sound of his name, goosebumps rippled over your skin.

The Winter Soldier’s look darkened before he reached for a gun. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

From then on, the day seemed like a blur. You remembered Sam knocking Bucky down and the lot of you flying back to the compound on standby. Steve was functioning a lot better than you were, considering the man you thought to be dead for over 70 years was currently handcuffed to a handrail on your jet.

James “Bucky” fucking Barnes. Captain America’s best friend, founding member of the howling commandos, infamous war hero apparently turned assassin, and the man who stole your heart somewhere along the way.

You dared a glance at the chained-up, unconscious brunette in the corner as Steve sat down next to you, a calming hand squeezing your shoulder.

“Can I get you anything?”

You ignored him. “How are you not freaking out?” You whispered through glassy eyes instead.

Steve’s expression softened when he pulled you into his chest, his other hand pressing your head further into him. His heart was hammering beneath his ribcage, his fingers cold to the touch.

“I am. Just trying to be a captain.” His voice was strained when he mumbled into your hair.

You just nodded in understanding, finding comfort in the fact you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

❁ ❁ ❁

You watched him through the glass of the interrogation room with your arms crossed before your chest. Buck was sitting at the table, his head hung low, his dark hair falling in wet stands into his face. He didn’t move a muscle. For half an eternity, he stared at the table his wrists were chained to, almost statue-like. But when he finally looked up, you could see the confusion and nervousness in his ocean-blue eyes.

They had given him time to recover, to shower, and feel like a human again. They forced him into normal clothes and offered him a bed to sleep. But it wasn’t enough. The man you were looking at was terrified and lost - exhausted and overwhelmed.

Bucky visibly tensed when the door opened and Steve stepped into his sight. They spent the next hour reconstructing his past. Steve told him how he had ended up in the 21st century and by the end of their conversations, the tension was a lot less static.

“She’s alive,” Bucky stated and tore his eyes away from Steve to look at the one-way glass.

“She’s a tough one. Survived the crash without super soldier serum and came out of the ice just as unharmed as I did.”

“What are the odds?” Bucky chuckled bitterly. “What are the fucking odds we all end up together again?”

Steve only gifted his friend a sympathetic smile along with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Take it as a chance.”

“Feels like a punishment.”

They were locking eyes and even though you were watching the interaction from the outside, you could feel the atmosphere turn somber. The men were staring at each other in silence for a while, though you knew there was an entire discussion happening in their eyes.

“Does she... does she want to see me?” Bucky’s voice was hesitant and broken. And you couldn’t help but somehow imagine a different question nestled in his words.

You almost had to stop yourself from touching the glass with your hands, wanting to tell him that you were already seeing him - really seeing him.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Steve stood and with a last smile to Bucky, he exited the room.

This was it. The door was open. The love of your life sitting only a few feet from it. Though it seemed like he was trapped inside another’s body.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Steve murmured as he stood in the doorway looking at you by the window. And you just nodded, trying to suppress your pulse rushing in your ears.

“Thanks.” It was only a whisper. You weren’t used to your voice being this small. And Steve didn’t seem so either. He was looking at you with sad eyes, fists clenched by his sides. There was nothing he could do to make you feel better. Not this time. And he seemed to know so. With one last tight smile, he sent a short nod your way and then left.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky didn’t look at you when you finally built up the courage to step inside his room. He was much bigger than you remembered. Thick muscles adorned his arms and shoulders. Shaggy, longer hair fell from his head and over his scrunched brows. His left arm was entirely of metal, a red star reminding him who had taken claim to him several decades ago.

If you hadn’t known, the man before you had almost no resemblance to the soldier you loved in 1941. He had been lean and full of life. He was broken now. And you were terrified someone had taken the very thing from him that would keep him from becoming himself again.

Without a word you approached Bucky, cupped his hands with yours, and undid the restraints that tied him to the table. And this was the first time he looked at you. Really looked at you. Bucky’s piercing blue stare was full of awe and sorrow, a deep pain etched beneath the grey flecks within the vibrant color.

You sat down beside him.

“Hey.” Your voice was shaky, dragging a long silence in its wake that only made your heart beat faster.

“Hello,” Bucky finally whispered, breaking the spell. His voice was a raw timbre, like a long-forgotten melody. And so much more tangible now that you weren’t listening to it through a speaker.

But that was it. Neither of you spoke afterward.

There was so much that could have been said, so much that could have been exchanged, known, explored about the other. And yet it didn’t feel like any of the words known to you were enough to break the static tension in the room. You were just looking at Bucky, scanning every part of his body like it was a flash card for the most important test of your life.

So, here you were: With the opportunity of a lifetime right at your fingertips and the confidence of a kicked puppy settled deep in your wounded soul. The person you had known for the longest looked so timid as if he were looking at a stranger. Not that he had ever been shy about strangers back in the day. But this was different. This was strange and beautiful, and scary, and exciting. No book in the world held the answers as to what to do in this situation.

And the solution was so easy: you just had to say something. So why didn’t your damn mouth open?

The speaker above your heads crackled and then Tony’s voice rang through the room. And for the first time in what felt like hours, a tiny bit of the weight on your shoulders lifted with it. “Bearcat, If you don’t open your mouth and put the guy out of his misery in 5 seconds, I’ll personally mediate this incredibly static confrontation.”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the mirror, knowing full well Tony was watching you despite your asking him to leave. You mouthed a ‘shut it’ towards the glass and then turned in shock when a familiar voice rose from the silence.”

“Bearcat?”

You stared at Bucky with soft eyes. There was an innocence in the way he slowly guided this conversation - almost like he’d always had. It was an easy question, a nice entry to the heavier stuff that was bound to be discussed.

And just as you began to explain, it dawned on you how much you had missed about each other. How differently your life could have been if it weren’t for the cruel turn of fate.

“When Steve and I were discovered, S.H.I.E.L.D. was our home for a long time. They tried to put us in apartments, even set us up with chaperones to guide us through the new century.” Bucky looked intrigued, even leaning forth as he listened intently. You wondered if he ever realized how much time had passed when he was the winter soldier... if anyone ever cared to tell him. “But it wasn’t until I met Natasha that I felt like I had arrived. She showed me so many things and trained with me until I became an agent here. Howard’s son came up with the nickname. He reminds me of him.” You smiled and shook your head “He’s a pain in my ass but a genius that can be genuinely helpful even though I don’t want to admit it at times. I haven’t grasped the explanation fully, but apparently, my fast learning and efficiency when it came to fighting reminded him of one of those small powerful fighter jets that were finished just after the war.” You chuckled at the memory before your eyes found Becky’s again only to see pain all over his face.

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and hit the floor before you could see it stain his skin. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was shaking, his body trying to make itself smaller but failing miserably with all the muscle surrounding it. He took up the room and your heart right along with it.

“Hey you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me.” You cradled his face and his hands instantly covered yours, only for his metal one to retract just as fast again. He was sorrowful and it made your heart ache.

“You’ve been navigating through so much alone and this is yet another thing you had to do without me.” He confessed through his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t changed within - always caring for everyone around him and never putting himself first.

“I’m fine. Was then and am now.” You ensured him. “If you want to worry about someone, take Steve. He’s a lot more overwhelmed than I am.” Bucky chuckled through his tears, a deep seriousness settling in his eyes. “If anything, I’m sorry we didn’t save you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” And there it was: a glimpse of the loving, caring, charming man you’d known so many years ago. A small smile snuck onto your face at the revelation and a spark of hope shot through your body.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you confessed, "We never had the time to actually be just us. To live all the dreams we shared back then.”

Bucky's eyes were full of sorrow before he closed them and pressed his forehead to yours. “I wish I could say I missed you,” he whispered and slung his arm around you, “But I didn’t remember.”

“And that’s not your fault, you hear me.” Your hand stroked over his damp hair, pulling it back and making Bucky look at you again. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever doubt yourself. What happened to you is horrible. And I vow to kill every single person responsible for keeping us apart for this long. But not once will anyone ever consider this your fault.”

Bucky averted his eyes and turned his head but you were quick to catch his face with your hand. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Let Steve and me handle the rest and focus on becoming comfortable in your skin again. I can’t wait to meet the man you can become.”

“You don’t want to know me, doll. Not anymore. Even if it wasn’t my fault, it changed me. I’m not the man you-“ he stopped talking as you watched regret flash over his features. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t care what I deserve, Bucky. I want you. I always have and that won’t change because some bullies tried to brainwash you. The very fact that we are here talking like this shows how much stronger you are than them. How the good in you never wavered.”

“But I can’t even trust myself. How can I expect you to do so of me?”

You cradled his head harsher as you felt your own tears roll down your cheek. “All I need is for you to try and trust me. We’ll figure this out... like we always do.”

Bucky’s flesh hand had fallen to your thigh, a soft thumb stroking over your leg and he watched the movement in awe. You didn’t know how long it had been since he had last felt comfort but you were determined to make up for all the lost time. With the wild beating of your heart, you took his metal hand and laved your fingers with his, watching as Bucky’s eyes glued to your smaller hand in his. There was no fear of what could happen, no aversion towards the alien element attached to his body. And then, finally, he encased your hand with his silver fingers.

Your other hand still stroked his cheek and you waited until he caught your gaze again. And once he did, you did not hesitate to slowly push your lips to his.

Just a short, sweet kiss. One that held more words than you could ever say. And then you waited. What for? Maybe a rejection, the shake of his head, or the sheer confidence with which he used to kiss you decades back.

Bucky’s breaths were shaky, his hands still touching you and sending softly timid comfort through your body. He held your gaze for a second... and then, he finally kissed you back.

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