#i say as i constantly push myself to the breaking point just to feel somewhat satisfied with my work

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: I see you’ve only talked about a boss-employee relationship between ENTP/ISTP, but I am curious about this pair romantically. I have two guy friends in their twenties - one ENTP, one ISTP. They’ve been casual friends for almost eight years but only became very close during the latter half of that time.

About three years ago, myself and the rest of our friend group noticed a shift in their dynamic. As they started getting closer, ENTP developed somewhat of an obsession/fixation with ISTP. ISTP became the subject of every conversation with ENTP, if we wanted ENTP to show up we had to make sure ISTP was there, he memorized insignificant facts about him, was very clingy etc. ISTP was oddly receptive/accepting of this behavior from ENTP, his quiet compliance a noticeable contrast to his typical snarky independent attitude. As a result, we teased them for it and grew some suspicion, but mostly brushed it off as a ‘bromance’. During this time, though, ENTP did come out as bisexual, and though ISTP never came out, ISTP strategically avoided revealing his sexuality in any way (even in situations where it would’ve been easy to show he was straight).

Over the next year or so this dynamic only got more extreme and I became convinced they secretly liked each other. They spent all day every day together. ENTP was constantly flirtatiously pushing ISTP’s buttons, excessively teasing, and trying to get reactions from him (which he did), as well as being overly touchy and even sometimes even chivalrous to him. ISTP rolled his eyes, but continued to invite it to happen and if ENTP was paying attention to someone else in front of him, ISTP would do things to subtly get the attention back on him. In a room with them, everyone became the third wheel.

The pressure was building and last year they started acting in a way that made me think they were finally going to admit their feelings. They even kissed as a ‘joke’, went on dates as a ‘joke’, ENTP called ISTP his boyfriend as a ‘joke’. At a certain point, it becomes obvious that a joke is not just a joke right?

But a month went by, and suddenly things got really strange. When we hung out, there was a new awkward vibe between them. They avoided each other, and if they did talk, it was short and formal. They stopped hanging out one on one, and ENTP even started distancing himself from the whole friendgroup. Possibly unrelated, but ENTP started hooking up with more girls too. Naturally, one would assume something happened between them, that maybe it got too real somehow. But they won’t budge talking about it. They just say it was never a thing, it’s always been a joke, and ENTP in particular does not want the topic brought up anymore. I am also fairly certain they did not secretly date and break up, even though it may sound like that.

The strangest thing about it is the denial from both ends, throughout the entire time. At no point did either of them seriously talk about the elephant in the room, at least to any of us. I realize this could all be chalked up to the fear of dating a friend and/or internalized homophobia, but I find the vulnerability struggles of these types to play a factor as well. It always felt like they spoke to each other between the lines, the truth lying only under layers of irony and sarcasm. Like subconsciously they knew what each other meant, but still needed it spelled out (even in non-romantic scenarios). But both were too stubborn and scared. In my opinion, it’s entirely possible that they had a falling out without even communicating to each other any aspect of the problem at all. But not in an adversity to conflict way - neither were ever shy about that - rather, an adversity to vulnerability way.

I’m not looking for any advice regarding them, since I’m just a third party and there’s not much I can do (though I am sad to see it turn out this way). But my question to you is this:

Do you think, in the event that these types catch feelings for each other, it’s common that they would end up in these unspoken situationship scenarios rather than acting on their feelings, due to both being thinkers with a tendency for trust/commitment issues and adversity to vulnerability? Or, in general, do you have any additional thoughts about this relatively uncommon pair?

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

Note: The relationship pair articles are generalized analyses that can be adapted and applied to any kind of relationship as needed. They are meant to be used by the people wanting to work on improving their relationship. They are not meant to be used by third parties who have no meaningful access to the relationship.

I'm afraid I don't understand the purpose of your question. What are you hoping to achieve exactly? It sounds like you want to know what happened between them, but it sounds like they're saying it's none of your business? Why not respect that? Don't you find it invasive to talk about them behind their backs like this?

I'm only going to make some general comments. I don't think ENTP-ISTP pairings are uncommon. ENTPs enjoy a challenge and ISTPs tend to be challenging to know. The two types also share key similarities that could enhance chemistry, such as:

easygoing attitude

experimental mindset

strategic mastery

openness to risk taking

boundary pushing

easily bored

commitment issues

vulnerability issues

low emotional awareness

Logically, no matter the type, people who are either unable or unwilling to take relationships as seriously as they should are more likely to end up in loose, casual, or poorly defined relationships. However, the reality of relationships is that they're complicated, and one cannot run from the complexities forever. This is especially true for queer relationships due to the added burden of having to confront stigma, bigotry, internalized -phobia, shame, etc.

Generally speaking, being unserious often means being careless, which can lead to serious hurt at some point, as feelings easily escalate beyond control and then get trampled upon. I'm not saying this is what happened between them. I don't like to make assumptions about people, so I'm going to ignore all the assumptions you were making throughout. I only want to deal in facts, and the fact is there was a lot of boundary pushing going on. Boundary pushing is considered unhealthy relationship behavior, so it's unsurprising that it met a less than happy end.

#entp #istp #relationships #boundaries #lgbtq #ask

[thespacelizard]

The Short-Lived Journal of Apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym

@fluffbruary day 21 - a little experiment today, trying to branch out somewhat. up on AO3 here. (cw referenced/implied past sexual assault)

In which Ashenivir tries journalling about it.

The following papers might be found, if one cared to look, between the pages of an old spellbook belonging to one apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym, of the Mythen Thaelas College of Arcanum.

I’ve no idea how to start this. It’s Keszriin’s idea anyway—she thought it might help, after—

There follows a smeared passage, the ink clearly scrubbed out whilst still fresh.

What point is there in writing down awful things? I have more important things to remember, like the circle constructions for the summoning aptitude exams at the end of the month. Although, I hope they won’t be able to tell I’ve been involved with a summoning already. That doesn’t leave a mark in your connection to the Weave, does it? I don’t think it does, there’s no reason why it should.

No. It doesn’t. Ri Master Velkon’yss would have mentioned if it did. He wouldn’t have let me summon the construct with him if it was going to cause me trouble later. He’s made it very clear that focusing on my studies is paramount. Which is to say, more important to focus on than—

The next several paragraphs are thickly lined out, leaving most of the passage illegible. The words collar, on my knees, service, and can’t think straight are all that can be made out.

I didn’t need to write all of that. Why did I write all of that? Why am I still writing any of this!

Because I’m avoiding an essay, that’s why. It’s not hard, just tedious. Riz Master Velkon’yss is right; I’m not getting anything from that alchemy class any more. But if I change it, it’ll mean dropping one of Rizeth’s Master Velkon’yss’ classes, and his are more useful to me than a different alchemy Master would be.

Alright, that’s not entirely true. I know I’m not supposed to prioritise certain other things but I can’t help it. Whatever notions Keszriin has about ‘writing things down’ being helpful, the scenes help more. They clear my head better than anything ever has since I stopped dancing. I’d be feeling a lot worse if I didn’t have them, and while Keszriin’s been very sympathetic, I can’t stand being constantly asked if I’m okay, if I need anything. I love her, but I honestly I just want to forget about it. Rizeth gives me the space to forget.

I did worry, though, after what happened. That I wouldn’t want to attend Rizeth any more, I mean—it would be just my luck to have finally found what I need only for someone else to ruin it for me. I don’t know if I should be worried that that was what I was worried about; it’s weird, right, to be afraid you won’t want to be treated the way Rizeth treats me, after something so awful?

Keszriin, this isn’t helping at all, I hope you know that.

At any rate, I’ve been…fine, I suppose. And I’m so glad Rizeth didn’t stop sending for me, for studying and otherwise. He doesn’t treat me like I might break. He just follows our usual rules and leaves it for me to decide what I’m capable of—and I’ve been good! I don’t try and push myself—I know that doesn’t impress him at all—and I think he’s proud of that.

It’s hard to tell with him, but I’m getting better at reading his expressions. He’s very subtle.

Ugh, I should finish that essay. For one thing, if I don’t do it and Rizeth finds out, I’ll be in trouble—and not the fun kind. Academic infractions always get real punishment; like I wrote, my studies are the most important thing, no matter how much I’d rather spend my evenings—

A very heavily crossed out section covers the remainder of the page. The only word visible through the dark streaks of ink is Master.

That’s quite enough of this experiment. At least I can tell Keszriin I tried, and that it definitely made me feel better, and she needn’t pester me about it any more. I don’t need to write out my feelings to know what they are. There’s no point wasting time and ink putting them on paper—they can stay in my head where they belong.

Though speaking of feelings…I should not have written all that down, I’m too distracted to work now. I’ll just fix that, then I’ll finish this essay.

A final note: this journal is tucked between spellbook pages containing the notation for a spell not found in the standard Arcanum curriculum. It consists of a short verbal incantation, a simple somatic gesture, and the intriguing material component of ‘a small smear of bodily fluid, such as spit, sweat, or whatever else might be readily at hand.’

There is no author attribution for the spell.

#fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #my fic #obedience fic blogging #one day im going to actually make a spellcard for 'conjure lube'

[discyours]

Once you are well aware of, Is it even possible to unsee, rationalize and live with the misogyny in our world? Essentially come back to being unaware of it/back to eventual copes to the point that the (rightful) anger doesn’t rear it’s ugly head once you see and recognize it? Always wondered how heavy it is for you to have that wide understanding and notion of it all and at the same time the bleakness on the side where some sort of viable solution could be, or maybe even a complete lack of it in this case. Is it just that forever limbo from then on

It's surprisingly easy to go back to ignoring/rationalising it. A good chunk of demure conservative women were bra burning feminists in the 70s and have since put those beliefs away as youthful idealism. The status quo is not something you break out of once. Society is constantly pushing you back towards it and if you don't actively fight back, it will succeed.

I'd say I'm a lot more aware of misogyny than the average woman (largely by continuing this account tbh) but there's still a lot of things i'm letting slip. I recently posted a tiktok by a woman who was mocking a soundbite of a feminist critiquing makeup by doing her own makeup while lipsyncing to it. I could see that and find it stupid, but I wear makeup on a nearly daily basis myself and have a hard time relating to the comments I got on the post that makeup makes women look nonhuman or like clowns. I'm somewhat active in the kink community and while I'm a lot more critical/"judgemental" than the average person I no longer automatically identify men as vile misogynists for getting off on hurting women. The anon right below this one in my inbox (which has been sitting there for months) asked me if I have a list of domestic violence organisations in the US ready to go in case my bf ends up being abusive. I've been ignoring it because it feels ridiculous to look something like that up when I'm with someone I fully trust, even though realistically I know it's a realistic concern and worth safeguarding against.

You have to keep putting things into perspective if you don't want to let them slip, but doing that too often is incredibly draining and running out of energy will land you where I am so it's a delicate balance.

#anon

[diary-of-someone-invisible]

27th January 11:18am

I am now wondering if moving countries was a terrible decision. I haven't slept in 24 hours so bear with me. I know I'm romanticizing my old life too much. I know it was a different kind of hell but it was also a protected hell. I know I fundamentally changed as a person on 22nd September '22. The first time I had a psychedelic. I have been a different person ever since and can't really say for better or worse. To be honest, it feels like worse. It feels like the evil part of me just took over. I lost all my impulse control. I have been getting into riskier situations. I have been encouraging myself to get worse. I will not claim that I don't like it. I certainly love it. It has been everything I've dreamt of. But my dreams were formed in wrong situation. These dreams were formed when I needed a strong escape mechanism. I don't think I need them anymore. I'm in a headspace where I am very prone to impulsively delete myself. It takes a lot in me to stay because I know people do care about me and my death would affect people. I am fighting really hard to stay here. At moments where I want to die, it becomes really difficult to convince myself to care for the people that I matter to. When I'm back to somewhat normal, it brings on so much guilt. But this isn't the point. The point is, if I didn't move here, I would be stuck in a situation where I was pretty much soul dead. I know I have made some progress related to finding who I am and what do I actually like but it is still pretty fickle. It's a lot of work. I barely want to get out of bed. I feel extremely alone. Like I know I have people a phone call away but also, I would like to meet people in person more. The amount of time I spend alone is extremely too much. It is an overload and I can not seem to take it well. But also, the past wasn't significantly better. It did push me to extremes where I felt drugs were the only proper escape I could have. That is a whole thing I need to rethink. I've finally reached a point in my life where I've spent months being constantly high. Mostly on caffeine and nicotine. Some might say overdose level high. But yeah, my mind is finally starting to fight back. It has had enough. Maybe I'll start forming a new personality from all that I've learnt in the past few months. At least I am not soul dead like I was from 2020. At least I have found myself. Breaking myself out of that frozen mode has been hectic. It has been her acting out violently. Maybe we'll find truce. So that way, I have to admit, moving here was great but finally trying out weed and psychedelics wasn't. But that had a positive effect too. Or do I just want to believe that it did? I was in a well protected bubble before it. A bubble free from addictions. At least I don't drink any more. Weed is highly under control as well. I am able to resist most of my urges. I am not physically addicted to weed but I am psychologically addicted to it. Which doesn't bode well when I don't say no to anything I want. But I would still live in a scared bubble if I didn't try psychedelics. It broke me out and gave it complete freedom. That isn't nice.

It all simmers down to would you rather be current you or the early 2022 you?

I want to be the current me without addictions. Without the damn urges. And that is something I can work on.

[lupically]

#F40B32 | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

genre | light fluff, light angst, very faint romance undertone 

word count | 2616

warning | mention of death, mention of injury, mention of killing, decapitation 

note | i just wanted to try my hand at writing for a villain that is obviously irredeemable in a semi-realistic way.

what happens when you are irredeemable? you will fall in love anyway.

but ryomen sukuna wasn't in love with you. after all, he had killed you one too few times to claim that he was in love with you.

the first time he killed you was out of instinct. you were an intruder touching his soul the way mahito did, except you barged in without any malicious intention. he had gazed over your fallen body with mild interest then; a mere mortal, yet you emerged from thin air into his locked tight domain without dying?

the second time he killed you was a choice. he gave you not a minute to explain yourself, even though you had wasted the minute asking questions about his identity and the skull-filled area instead of giving him any valuable information about yourself. he had been fed up, he was never a man of patience, so he killed you with a wave of his hand and returned to his dull life alone on his throne.

the third time he killed you—he did not kill you. there was no third time; people liked to say the third time's charm but sukuna believed no such superstition. he killed you twice already and each time, you came back unscathed, both your body and your memories. whether he liked it or not, killing you for the third time would do neither you nor him any benefit, so he kept you alive.

you were afraid of him. he could tell, and he meant for things to be that way until he realized it served as a misfortune on his part. in order to understand this mystery—your sudden appearance into his domain, as well as your inability to leave it and his inability to kick you out—he has to gain some piece of information about you, but you were too shaken up from being murdered to talk to him at all.

sukuna's patience was reaching a breaking point and he thought about torturing it out of you, but he understood that humans are fragile, way more fragile than your typical jujutsu sorcerer. he could accidentally kill you and you would return with no scars and more unwilling to converse with him than before. then it was the waiting game all over again.

he wasn't planning on going through such a dull ordeal again, so he left you be and waited for you to calm yourself down.

the first time you talked to him, you asked him a question.

"are you going to kill me?" you asked him.

sukuna peered down at you from his throne. small, frightened, curled into a ball with no desire to touch the skeletons at his feet, but you looked up at him out of politeness.

he scoffed, displeased. "no, but i always can."

the second time you talked to him, it was to exchange a brief introduction.

"ryomen sukuna," he hummed curtly then he nudged his chin toward you. "your turn."

you shuffled up to your knees and sat down on your heels. your fingers fidgetted at your lap as you timidly peered up at his tattooed, disinterested expression.

"[full name]," you said with a nod, unable to meet his eyes. "nice–nice to meet you, sukuna-san..."

the third time you talked to him, you flinched.

"ma–may i ask you two questions... if i can...?" you asked, for the first time standing up to face him directly.

sukuna leaned away from his propped-up arm. after taking a better look at you, accessing your figure analytically despite having seen you move around slowly for days already, he shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe and he suddenly jumped down from his throne to stand before you.

you pursed your lips nervously over his looming figure, face heating up with terrible anxiety while your eyes darted down to the watery ground. oh, his presence has been so overwhelmingly deadly that you forgot your white tennis shoes were stained red and your pastel ankle socks remained wet. you did not dare to complain, not even in your head.

"i'll allow it," he said.

"where am i?" you quickly asked.

"an innate domain," he replied.

you have questions, but you decided not to ask. you only nodded after breathing out a soft sigh to calm your nerves. this man constantly sounded condescending, he was kicking open your comfort zone without actively doing anything that would make you uncomfortable.

"okay..." you said, "thank you."

"aren't you going to ask me another question?" he stated with a raise of his brow. "you wanted to ask me two questions."

you gulped, blinking hopelessly at the air as a grimace appeared on your face. "the first question was if i can ask you two questions, and the second one is about where i am... so that makes two."

oh, a meticulously cautious one, and somewhat humorous too he would give you that. sukuna scoffed loudly, but it was less out of annoyance and more out of disbelief of your incredible dullness. however, as plain as you were, he has grown accustomed to your presence; the scent of fear that bounced off of you and the fact that he cannot kill you at will.

"you must be dying to know what this place is, are you not, you brat?" sukuna asked.

when he saw the flashes in your eyes, he knew he had you down through and through. all you were was but someone who was too afraid to say what they want, which was just as he expected from you. you wouldn't cause him trouble, you never could.

reaching his hand out of his sleeve, he stayed silent despite seeing the way you flinched with your eyes shut at his raised hand. his movement had been slow, but that was an involuntary response, an instinct that he didn't craft into you. he wondered what it was.

"you can ask me three more questions," he said as he pushed the heel of his palm against the curve of your head. he was gentle at first, then he clamped his hand down on your head as he bent his waist to meet your eyes. he laughed. "i'll allow it."

he could keep you here. he has no choice but to keep you here, and he would kill you once he realized he has the ability to. but for now, perhaps he could act a little civil, something like a human being but one that people would hate to the core.

except he was met with a little obstacle in the way, which was that you were no bad company.

the first time sukuna gained a liking toward you was when you asked him a peculiar question.

"sukuna-san," you called one time when there was only silence within the innate domain.

you sat on a bed of skulls, one that you tentatively asked the king of curses to make you so you wouldn't have to lean on the rib-cage structure and sit in water for slumber.

he denied it at first. calling you names and threatening you about ever requesting something from him—a bed in his domain? fucking atrocious. but your insomnia was killing you; you hated the blood water and your neck burned whenever you wake up having it arched at the worst angle possible.

he did not grow soft. he just made one so he didn't have to watch you sleep in his peripheral vision.

"hmm."

"why do you think curses exist?"

he raised a brow at you. "did i not teach you that before?"

"you did, sorry," you nodded, "then do you believe in god?"

"where the fuck is this coming from, you brat?"

"from where i came, god is good. but from what i am seeing, whether from where i came from or here, everything goes against that value," you muttered loudly as you pulled at your fingers. "cursed spirits harm people. if i can argue that way, i think cursed spirits are harmful within themselves."

"if god is good, and god is real, why would this happen," you said. "why should we feel negative emotions? why do we have the ability to create cursed spirits? why do curses like you exist?"

he furrowed his brows in irritation. have you reduced him to mere curses? have you reduced him to nothing but a brainless being that only takes joy in the suffering of others? no matter how he approached your words, he felt infuriated that you could minimize his importance to simply being a bad person.

he was much more than a bad person, much more than just a pain! he has ideals, he has goals and ambitions, he has wit and strength! he has anger and malevolence and power beyond which your soul could ever contain and endure! he was ryomen sukuna, the strongest curse in a thousand years and more!

he will fucking kill you.

"i'm really glad you're here, though," you finished off softly, an unknowing smile on your face as you rubbed your thumbs weakly together.

he will kill you.

"for a long time, i was told my anger and hatred aren't real. that they don't and should not exist, and i learned to bury them to the ground so they never appear on the surface again," you said, your innocent smile audible to his ears and making his chest twitch with guilt.

"cursed spirits' existence is proof that my negative emotions are real. they may be a problem, but i am not crazy for having them because they're here. they became something, they're here and alive."

he will... he will kill you.

"i just think it's unfair to put the blame on cursed spirits and cursed energy alone when the society's standard guarantees the manifestation of them," you said. "if my anger got out to the world in the form of a monster and it hurt someone, i'll forgive it. i will forgive myself."

he...

"you don't need to hear this, i wish i had your confidence, but i have to say it," you looked up and smiled at him, "i'm a little glad you're here, sukuna-san."

he will kill–he will ki–

the second time, he went stoic.

mahito was too smart for his own good. the first thing he noticed when he entered the soul within yuji's body was the way sukuna has the collar of your shirt clutched in his hand and your body pulled close to his side. it was a glance, he had one small glimpse of you both before he was kicked out of the domain.

your face was riddled with tears—crying, disappointed, and frustrated, but why? for the transfigured human whose name mahito almost forgot, or because sukuna just had one of the most sadistic outbursts you have ever witnessed.

and sukuna, the king, the lord, the almighty—didn't he look annoyed. well, not annoyed, per se. angry, mad, overwhelmed, knowing, protective. very, very, very protective; glowing eyes that glared at mahito's patched up face, fingers that gripped at your shirt so tightly he could rip the fabric apart, an aura that was ready to spit any moment if mahito so much as reach a finger toward your direction.

you meant something to ryomen sukuna. mahito realized that, so the second time he entered the innate domain, he killed you.

right before his eyes, with a cunning and triumphant smile, your neck cracked and your skin broke, and mahito tore your head off just before he was once again beat out of the domain.

sukuna tried to heal you. he tried to seal your head back to your lifeless body, time and time again pushing your decapitated head against your haphazardly cut neck. but his reverse curse technique wasn't healing you. your skin refused to piece itself back together, you refused to come back to him. time passed and he was getting mad, he was going batshit crazy trying to force himself out of this body.

bastard! bastard! bastard! he was supposed to kill you! he was supposed to be the one to kill you! he would murder that patch-faced piece of shit! he would kill mahito! and he would destroy the whole world, light it on fire and kill all that wasn't worthy of his time! he would jump universes, light-years, the bloodstream of the galaxy to find you and bring you back to him. he would—

"sukuna-san, i'm sorry i took a while! i thought you were fighting–holy shit, is that me?"

the third time, sukuna admitted to himself.

"what kind of flowers do you like, sukuna-san?" you asked, voice drowsy and your legs dangling after you climbed on one of the bones of the rib-cage structure.

"why does it matter?" he asked from his throne, eyeing you carefully.

your were a clumsy idiot. you could fall anytime.

"it doesn't, but it's flowers," you mumbled with your chin leaning against the bone, eyes threatening to close. "sukuna... sukuna..."

"what?" he snapped.

"i like lilies, the red ones," you said with a silly grin. "will you visit me when i die? sukuna... will you bring... mmm... bring red lilies..."

he looked ahead. your death; your grave, decorated with red lilies, protected and preserved with his curses. your death—he gritted his teeth. he refused to think about it. it was a waste of time.

or maybe he simply hated the idea of your death.

sukuna has not gone soft. he was irredeemable; a killer, a curse, a tragedy to descend upon mankind. he was not good and he never would be, nor did he ever have the intention to be good.

still, from you, there was proof that he could be more. what was left of his being; his anger and his torture, what was left within the gaps of his hell, the rare softness that once was there, belonged to you now.

you were the vessel that pocketed all that he could potentially become if he wasn't born to be ryomen sukuna, a version of him that you have witnessed. within you, there was proof that he did not only exist to hurt people, but also to validate madness and pain, to acknowledge passion in its murderous wakefulness. within you, there was proof that within himself, there are pieces of what it means to be human and alive.

hearing your soft breath, sukuna looked up to find you asleep with your head against the bone. your arms barely supported your weight and you were threatening to fall off as you dozed with faint snores. he stared at you, his fingers twitching, then he finally waved his hand so he could bring you away from the ribcage and to where he sat.

he paid no mind to subtlety when he set you on his lap. his hand supported your back while he kept your head pressed against his shoulder. his other arm went around your body, preventing you from falling off the throne made only for him to sit on. when he was done adjusting to the new sitting position, he relaxed.

brushing the hair away from your face, he stared down at you with disinterest, but his heart pumped and pumped for you to be warm and well, his arms tightened for you to sleep soundly.

"i will bring you all the red lilies you want," he whispered, the back of his finger gliding past your soft cheek. you did not smell like fear when you fall asleep, you did not smell like fear now even when you looked at him. "i will allow myself that."

after all, ryomen sukuna was only fond of you. very, very fond of you. 

#also sorry if i used the wrong terms !!! #and i am still working on the childe piece !!! #ryomen sukuna #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #sukuna #sukuna imagine #sukuna x oc #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk anime #jujutsu #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jujutsu x reader #jujutsu imagine #sukuna fluff #sukuna fanfic #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader

[edie-baby]

to have and to hold | juri vips

summary: Juri Vips was a bastard of a teammate. Mostly just because you were insanely in love with him and his flirtatious ways. Juri senses a change in your behaviour and when things begin going back to normal, Juri just fucks it up again. (Similar premise to the Mr & Mrs imagine with Liam, but different[?])

word count: 2894

warnings: swearing, still. i don't think i should have to put warnings about swearing anymore, it's basically a given.

Working with Juri Vips was a fucking trainwreck. There was no light way to put it, it was messy, it was painful, and yet you could never stop fucking staring at him. Being his teammate in F2 for the past year and a half, the two of you had gotten quite close, to the point where his family invited you on vacation with them when they were going, and you had joined them once, but realised about two hours in, that it was a thinly veiled attempt from literally his entire family to get the two of you together.

And while you were all for it, being forced to spend so much time with Juri, while he was shirtless nonetheless, was a literal dream come true, it was also incredibly painful for you to stop from pouncing on him at any given moment. Because as much as his family thought there was something between you, it was purely Juri’s charisma and character to be almost constantly flirting with you.

You remember the first time the two of you, a few other F2 drivers had come along as well, had gone to the beach and he had seen you bust out the bikini you knew made you look like a hot piece, he hadn’t shut up about it, or you, for weeks afterwards.

“Well look at you, little miss supermodel. I would have thought you’d be walking catwalks with legs like that, not pushing pedals like the rest of us. God, you look like you just stepped out of my dreams and onto this beach. If you keep looking like that, I think I might have a problem to deal with later in the shower.” He had hollered, and many of the guys around you either joined in or had nothing to say but gawk. Juri’s comments had cemented themselves in your brain however, calling back upon them whenever you felt less than top dollar, which you had to admit was becoming more often in recent months.

Juri had noticed your slowly waning confidence, of course he had. His gorgeous view of you in crop tops, little skirts, and tight shorts had turned into oversized shorts, hoodies, and ill-fitting jeans. All of which still made you the most beautiful girl in the world, but there was something missing from your aura, a general happiness that had been lacking since the new season started a few months ago. In the entire time Juri had known you, you were never one to listen to other’s opinions of you, whether they be good or bad, the only people you had ever listened to and taken words to heart from were himself, your parents, and your boyfriend.

Somehow in the span of about three minutes, Juri had tracked the four most likely culprits of your diminished ego. He knew he hadn’t said anything harmful or damaging to you since the season began, as many of your conversations had revolved around racing, other drivers in the paddock, or your family. Your parents, he was confident in, he had met them many times before, and they were always genuinely warm and welcoming, he supposed there might have been another side to them, though he believed he would have picked up on it by now. Which leaves only your boyfriend, whom Juri had zero confidence in.

Tye was nice, almost disgustingly so, but he was also much too proud of being nice for it to be genuine. He would open car doors for you, give you flowers every few months, and once bought you a necklace with a pendant of his name. But you would never forget that he did those things for you, because as soon as you would mention something relatively negative, those few acts of kindness were shoved down your throat.

Juri, of course, was not privy to that information. All he knew was that Tye’s possessive behaviour and complete lack of care for your wishes meant that there was something beneath the surface Juri was sure was the reason for your confidence, or lack thereof.

So when you came into work one day, to continue shooting some videos for the YouTube channel, wearing a gorgeously fitted pair of jeans, and a halter-neck singlet, Juri knew something was afoot. Also notable was your lack of gold necklace and your beaming smile toward the Estonian.

“You gonna keep staring like that, or do you want to take a photo?” You asked, your voice holding the teasing lilt Juri had missed in the past weeks. Without breaking his gaze from your body, Juri reached into the pocket of his shorts, his hand retrieving his phone and taking a photo of you standing there, tight clothes and bright smile in all its glory. He smirked when he saw your barely concealed smile.

“You’re in a much better mood than usual. What happened?” Juri couldn’t help but ask, the drastic shift in your mood was more than intriguing to him. Your smile widened, taking the last few steps toward his position in a chair behind the large conference table.

“I lost 80 kilos last night.” You whispered, leaning in closer to Juri, the glint in your eyes, the proximity and the tone were all so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but meet you halfway, barely three inches between your faces as the words processed in his mind.

Juri glanced down at your body confusedly, trying to figure out where exactly the 80kg had disappeared from. Then, the pieces began clicking into place. The lack of gold necklace, the tighter clothes, the glowing smile, none of which would have been staring Juri in the face if Tye had a say.

“You dumped Tye?” Juri questioned, his eyes lighting up, his raise in volume betraying just how excited he was for you, and himself. You nodded, eyes softening as you watched the pure joy cross Juri’s face. Him being happy was something that always warmed your heart, but Juri being happy about you finally being happy? You were sure your knees were about to buckle.

“I’m glad. I can have you all to myself now.” Juri grumbled, reaching for your hands that were braced against the arms of his chair. With a sharp tug, your balance was offset, and your body was tumbling toward Juri’s. You landed with a giggle in Juri’s lap, his own laughter joining yours and the two of you simply enjoyed each other’s presence after having an intangible wall built between you during your relationship with Tye.

Juri couldn’t hold a taken woman like he loved her, not when that taken woman wasn’t his to hold. And you, how could you revel in the feel of man’s touch that was anyone’s but the man you supposedly loved. You couldn’t break out in goosebumps, or have a shiver roll down your spine when you felt the familiar pressure of his calloused fingertips pressing into the skin of your back, desperate to keep you close. You weren’t allowed to sigh in content when you felt the warmth of his body seep into your skin, or whimper when his hot breath rolled over the skin of your neck.

But now you could. Now, without the moral implications of enjoying another man, you could sink into this all-consuming feeling you have when Juri is near.

“Morning you two. We’ve got a video to film in the garage if you want to follow me?” The social media manager, Georgina,  a lovely woman in her 40s whom you always went to for advice and style tips, poked her head into the room you and Juri were tangled in, a cheeky smile on her face when she spotted the somewhat compromising position. A blush fell heavy on your cheeks, and you were quick to try and scramble away from Juri.

He had other ideas though. When Juri began moving, you clutched onto him for dear life, terrified of falling to the ground even though it was only about two feet. Your arms circled around his neck, your legs fully wrapping around his hips from where you were straddling him on the chair. His large hands came to rest on the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up higher on his body. Your legs clenched around his middle, the feel of his fingers pushing into the soft skin of your legs was electrifying, and you were sure if you didn’t have a video to film, you would have been telling the Estonian to find an unoccupied office to take what he needed from you.

But alas, you had a job to do. So, still wrapped around Juri like a vice, he carried you through the Hitech office, nodding to other staff you passed, and occasionally nuzzling his nose into your neck to get a good whiff of your perfume. Juri had said multiple times the scent was intoxicating and could bring any man to his knees. You may have gone out and bought an extra bottle to ensure you never ran out after that.

After a few minutes, you stepped into the garage with Juri, well, he stepped in you just kind of floated in. The scent of grease, rubber and a slight hint of fuel invaded your nostrils, and you sighed in content. Juri chuckled at your actions, he always loved watching you step into a garage, or out onto the pit lane to take in the smells of burnt rubber. You told him every time he laughed at you that it evoked a calm feeling within you, it was nostalgic, filled with happy memories from your childhood and the memories of races you shared with Juri on track.

“Alright lovebirds, can we get you in these chairs and we’ll start explaining while we finish getting set up.” Georgina stated, smiling fondly at the love between her two youngsters. Juri sat you down in one of the chairs sitting before the cameras, not leaving your side for long as he planted himself in his own chair and dragged you as close as possible.

Georgina explained the rules of the game, and the way you would be playing it, choosing you to sit in the background listening to music whilst Juri answered questions about you. First, they gave you a list of questions about yourself, asking to circle the correct answers and they would be compared to Juri’s during the game.

“Ok Juri, the first question. How old was Y/N when she started karting?” Georgina questioned. She watched you in the background closely to ensure you couldn’t hear anything, but you were blissfully unaware of everything around you, headphones in your ears, legs tucked up on the chair, scrolling through your phone with the occasional giggle escaping your lips. Each time Juri heard the angelic sound, he would turn to look at you with a look so soft it made the entire team’s heart swell.

“Uh, I think she was 10, I know she started late because she had to argue with her parents to let her do it with her brothers, and I think 10 is about the right age.” Juri answered, looking as though he was thinking quite hard about it. It had been a long time since the two of you discussed your start in karting, it was one of the first conversations you had together, and since then you hadn’t had to talk about generic teammate topics. Juri was proud that he remembered something seemingly insignificant from a year and a half ago, but supposed when it came to you he could never forget a thing.

“Alright, next question. What is Y/N’s biggest fear? Is it A, the ocean, B, goblins, or C, heights?” Juri’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he heard the second answer, trying to figure out why it was even an option in the first place. His eyes focused on one spot on the floor, his brain moving a mile a minute to analyse conversations he had with you.

“Well, we’ve been to the beach together a few times, and thinking back I don’t think she’s ever gotten into the water. So maybe the ocean, but she also said once when we were looking at a castle that she doesn’t like gargoyles, so goblins could be a thing. But she’s definitely not scared of heights. She’s gone skydiving, bungee jumping and climbed bridges and things like that. So I’m going to say the ocean. I feel like I would definitely know if she was scared of something like goblins.” Juri laughed, his eyes still glued to the spot on the floor, his thoughts flowing through his mouth with little consideration of how they could be interpreted.

“What is something Y/N never leaves the house with?” Georgina was hopeful for this question, she was sure it could be the catalyst for the two drivers to finally own up to their feelings after reading your answer. Juri listened to the multiple choice answers, but none of them sounded just right.

“So, the rings sound the closest, but sometimes she will wear lots, and other times only a few, and when she can’t wear them on her hands, she’ll thread it onto a necklace to wear under her race suit, or something so yeah, I’d say the rings.” Juri answered, turning to look at you behind him, wearing the exact ring he was talking about on the ring finger of your right hand.

“And what ring is the one she wears on her necklace?” Georgina probed, knowing the answer and just wanting to see the way Juri heated up when he talked about it.

“Uh, it’s a diamond ring that has a J engraved on the inside.” Juri answered, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. A smile broke out on your face as you watched Juri, his flustered state always made you giggle as he was such a confident and put-together person usually. As a habit, you began spinning the ring on your right hand around, feeling the shape of the diamonds and knowing the initial carved into the inside was a claim over you.

“Do you know where she got it?” Georgina asked. She was getting frustrated, Juri was much more calm about revealing the intimacy of the ring than she had hoped.

“I gave it to her. About a year ago, and then she gave me a necklace with an (your initial) on it. I wear it every day, and it’s the only piece of jewellery I wear while I drive.” Juri answered, his fingers reaching up to toy with the thin gold chain hidden beneath his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at you, spotting the spinning ring immediately and smiling at you.

You looked up at him, a dazed look as you stared at the gorgeous man in front of you. He could see the stars in your eyes, staring at him as though he hung the moon, and if he was honest with himself, if you asked, he would. There was nothing you could ask of him that would be too much, even if you didn’t ask, he would do everything for you. No one had ever held this power over him, he wasn’t even sure it would feel this good if it were anyone else, but you just did something to him. You unlocked a part of him he didn’t know existed.

You were just, everything. To him. You were everything he ever wanted, ever needed, even everything he didn’t know he needed. You opened him up, poured sunshine into his life in the form of your smile, happiness penetrated his bones because of your laugh. He didn’t want to lose that again, didn’t want to lose you to another man. He needed you, and he needed you now.

It was like slow motion, the way Juri surged out of his chair toward you, his hands cupping your jaw roughly as he guided you to your feet. The laptop on the ground pulled the earphones from your ears, your phone clattering to the floor in your surprise. Your hands reached up to fist in his shirts, not wanting to lose this proximity. You had him in your grasp and you’d be damned if you ever let him go again.

Juri pressed his lips to yours, as soft and warm as you’d imagined them so many times before. You kissed him back with ferocity, the eighteen months worth of emotion poured into a kiss to communicate your feelings in a way that didn’t need words. He kissed back just as fiercely, his hands holding your face still to allow him to do exactly what he needed. You were pliable to his every demand, putty in his hands. Juri had always had this effect on you, every fleeting touch or brush of a hand on your waist made your knees weak and your stomach flutter with the force of a thousand butterflies.

Juri pulled away, barely a breath between your lips as he panted slightly. Your eyes were trained on his lips, the fullness of his bottom lip, the redness from your assault on them making them look all the more kissable.

“So, how about we switch that ring to the other hand and really make this a Mr & Mrs video?”

#juri vips #juri vips imagine #juri vips fanfic #juri vips x reader #f2 2021 #formula 2 #f2 fanfic #hitech gp

[alexaplaysgames]

Request: “Could you write something in which the mc is starting to develop feelings for Felix but denies them constantly/tries not to confess or accept them as a reality because they fear what would follow if and when they happen to go back to earth later...?”

Here you are! I literally have to fight myself to keep from making every dramatic moment occur at sunset on a grassy plain. This time, I lost. Sorry for the wait, I’ve hated my writing recently. Thought I don’t love this, either, I hope you enjoy it :) I changed to first person for this cause my brain is Like That.

Title: Did you Really Mean it?

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2484

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

The first time, he had been quick to dismiss it.

Felix had asked for your help reaching one of the taller shelves of the library. He claimed he needed access to one of the books, strictly for academic purposes, of course, but you’d judged by the sight of his rosy cheeks that he more so just wanted you to touch him.

Nonetheless, you had risen from your comfortable position on the sofa and accompanied him without complaint, teasing him all the while about his short stature. When you’d pinched his flushed cheek, he’d rolled his eyes with a groan, hoping you didn’t see the goosebumps that had spread across his skin at your touch.

Standing in front of the shelves, you’d wrapped your arms around his waist. This seemed most sensible, rather than vice versa, given how he knew which book to look for. You’d felt Felix’s breath leave him in a rush as your arms slid around him, his ribs contract as he exhaled. He’d shivered as your fingers brushed the bare skin near his hips where his shirt had ridden up.

Yet, he had leaned back into you as if he didn’t want you to let him go. You swallowed. That is what made this so difficult, you thought. You didn’t want to let him go, either. You simply knew that you would have to.

It was surprisingly effortless to lift him to reach one of the dust-covered titles a few shelves above your heads. As Felix had pulled the book off the shelf, a thick layer of dust had been dislodged with it. He’d sneezed, and the force of it made you stumble. 

You’d fallen back onto the cushy carpet below with a gasp, Felix landing slightly on top of you with a startled yelp.

“Ouch,” you’d mumbled, rubbing your head, and then burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“S-sorry,” Felix stammered. He looked quite abashed. You’d only shaken your head with a fond sigh and reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear.

Felix’s breath had hitched at that, his eyes going saucer wide. You dropped your hand as if he’d burnt you. Only now did you realize how close your faces were. You could count every one of his eyelashes, this close, feel the heat of his breath. His gaze briefly flitted towards your parted lips, laden with desire.

“We should get up, now.” Your smile had turned a little tense, which Felix noticed. You’d looked as if you wanted to push him off. 

He winced. “R-right. Yes, of course.”

When you’d stood and parted ways, he couldn’t help but feel the slight sting of rejection. He clutched the book to his chest as he watched you walk away. 

Perhaps he was over-thinking things.

✦✧✦✧

The next time, however, he was certain something was wrong. 

You’d been quite clearly avoiding him as of late, skirting around his company with flimsily construed excuses that you were much too busy to see him.

Felix didn’t mind. Being on his own was something he’d grown to find familiar, if not enjoyable. He told himself that it was reasonable for you to wish to spend some time apart from him, and while a part of him believed that, another part wondered why he wasn’t good enough to hold your attention. 

You used to adore him. He could still feel your fingers in his hair, your hands on his skin. At what point did he begin to bore you? Had all your comments of accepting him for who he was served only to pacify his childish, moody self? Did you mean none of it at all? 

It certainly felt that way.

Then, one evening, you’d told him you were going out to a tavern with Sage. Though you’d invited him to join you, he’d declined, partially due to his being a lightweight, but also the fact that he wasn’t certain whether you truly wished to see him at all.

Yet, hours later, when you still hadn’t returned, Felix’s stomach churned with worry. He was torn between going to you and offering you the space you so clearly craved. 

With a sigh, he’d wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and set off to find you. He simply wanted to make sure you were alright, that was all. It needn’t be more complicated than that.

You were seated in a booth in one of the local establishments, Sage at your side. He could smell the alcohol on your breath the moment you drew near. “Felix, my sweet!” you’d laughed as you saw him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Felix frowned at the pet name. He’d almost forgotten that you used to calm him that. 

He had closed his eyes at your touch, melted into the familiar warmth of it. Then you’d frozen, looked up at him with cloudy eyes, and proclaimed that you were leaving. 

Felix blinked at you in astonishment. “What?” 

You had offered him no reply. 

Felix had followed you as you stumbled slightly out the doors and into the darkened streets. He himself had often taken to midnight walks through the city, knowing that he had the means to protect himself. You, however, had no such training. 

You’d tripped over your feet as you walked, intoxicated, through the cobblestone streets. Felix grabbed you elbow and spun you to face him.

“Stop this- this tomfoolery,” he gasped. “You’re going to maim yourself!”

“Leave me be, Felix,” you’d pouted, your words dangerously slurred. “I can’t- I don’t want to see you right now.”

Felix’s breath caught; your words sunk through his skin and settled as an ache in his chest. Yet, before he could say anything in reply, you stumbled again. He pulled you against his side to keep you from falling over, slinging one of your arms over his thin shoulders. 

Felix is many things, but strong is not one of them- you nearly broke his slight frame with your weight, and he panted while he struggled to hold you. Nonetheless, he managed to guide you through the streets to the nearest inn, conscious of your breath by his ear all the while. 

You’d flopped down onto the worn sheets of the bed Felix rented, your hair haloed around your head. The young necromancer’s heart hurt as he watched you, until you’d grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed at your side.

“Kiss me,” you begged, the heady scent of brandy curling around the words, and conflict waged war across Felix’s delicate features. “Kiss me, Felix, this might be the last time you get the chance.”

Felix’s grey eyes welled with tears. “I- I can’t,” he choked, feverishly shaking his head against the sheets. Oh, he had wanted to, you knew it even through your haze. You saw how his eyes once more drew towards your lips before he tore them away.

“Then go,” you said simply, rolling away from him and onto your side. 

And he had. 

Felix wrapped his arms around himself as he walked home through the streets alone. 

✦✧✦✧

The third time hurt the most. 

“Are you two officially together, now?” Anisa had asked you one evening, and Felix had waited for your response with bated breath, tucked outside the doorway where he knew you couldn’t see him.

Until it finally came, and he wished he hadn’t. 

“No.” You said it with such finality, such certainty, he was sure you could hear his heart breaking, the sound of his panicked breaths. “Felix and I… I don’t think we’re a good fit.”

That was it, the final straw. He choked on a sob as he turned away, already feeling the hot rush of tears spilling from behind his closed eyelids. 

He had curled up in his study, face tucked into the worn couch, and cried into his elbows, cursing his own stupidly all the while. His tears soaked through the strands of his hair, ran down his face in rivulets, dripping off his chin. 

He was so delirious at that point that he allowed Stella to curl up next to him, even stroking his fingers through her soft, silky fur.

“W-why am I like this, Stella?” Felix mumbled, still sniffling around the remnants of his sobs. “It was idiotic of m-me, to think-” Felix flopped onto his back, wiping at his eyes. Then he groaned. “Goddess, and now here I am, conversing with you. A rather pitiful display.”

Stella, as expected, did not offer a reply, though her rumbling purr provided some comfort. 

Felix stared up at the ceiling until morning light streamed in through the windows, caught in a miserable state. He is accustomed to being alone- after all, his wasn’t the first time he had his heart broken by someone he was sure he was in love with.

This was the only time, however, that it cut him this deeply. Never had he felt such hurt before, not even in death. In fact, he was certain he preferred that dull, empty nothingness to this.

He sighed, tiredly letting his eyes flutter shut. Stella’s fur tickled his nose, and he whispered, “How you’ve ruined me, my dear barista.”

✦✧✦✧

Things were strained between the two of you from then on. Felix wouldn’t meet your eyes whenever you were near each other. You could tell, by the redness of his eyes, that he had been crying, though for what reason you couldn’t be sure.

He kept his distance, and you chastised yourself for missing him. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? But you suddenly weren’t so certain. You stomach was slowly twisting into knots of guilt and longing.

You sat with Felix, sifting through more textbooks in an attempt to find a hint as to how to send you home. It served as a reminder, somewhat, as to why you had pushed him away, though as time passed the memory became fainter. You were instead focused on how Felix kept his eyes trained downwards, not once making a characteristically snide or snarky remark.

The silence and the tension stretched between the two of you until it snapped like a frayed string.

“Why?” Felix suddenly asked you, gasped it out as if it pained him. You’d met his eyes, though he still wouldn’t meet yours, his hands squeezed into fists in his lap.

“Why what?”

“Why did you turn me away?” he continued, his lower lip quivering. “I had hoped-” he trailed off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Felix finished a moment later with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You deserve much better than m-me, of course. I was selfish to think otherwise.”

“Felix-”

But Felix was no longer listening, having slammed his textbooks shut and left your side with tears swimming in his stormy eyes, muttering under his breath about how stupid he had been, desperate to keep you from seeing what a mess he’d become.

You felt awful. You’d been so determined to quell the growth of your relationship that you’d disregarded Felix’s rather fragile sense of self worth. You’d absolutely crushed him, you thought regretfully, and for what? Perhaps what was between you couldn’t last, but you should’ve been grateful for the time with him you were given.

Hours passed. You’d searched the rest of the day for Felix, but you couldn’t find him. Not in his bedroom, his study, the library, not with Sage or Anisa- your necromancer had mysteriously vanished. 

Until you’d remembered one evening when he showed you one of his favourite places- a grassy hillside overlooking the sprawling city underneath. With the sun sinking over the horizon, you’d found him there, chin resting on his knees, pulled up to his chest. The wind whipped through his dark hair, cooling the streaks of tears on his reddened face. 

Felix looked back over his shoulder at your sudden appearance through one of his trademark portals, then buried his face in his arms with a low groan. 

“Felix, listen to me,” you whispered. Coming to sit beside him in the long grass, you gently wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into your side. You could feel him hiccup, feel him tremble against you.

You settled your chin on his shoulder as the both of you looked out over the world that had once been so foreign to you. The wind once more rippled through the sea of grass around you, the sun reflecting off each individual strand. As the sunlight slowly waned into a single strip, it touched the tips of the buildings below and lit them up like candles.

“I am so, so sorry, baby,” you said, “for making you feel that way. I was worried it would hurt, when I have to leave. I thought I was doing us both a favour by keeping us apart. You did nothing wrong, Felix, and you weren’t selfish.” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the dying sun warm your face. “I was.” 

“You weren’t-” came Felix’s muffled reply, quick to defend you as always. You shook your head, kissing the curve of his shoulder. 

“I was. I thought it would be best for both of us, but I was wrong. I missed you so much, you know. Every day, I always wanted to see you. But I didn’t, and I told myself that was for the best. It was stupid. I hurt us both.”

Felix exhaled. You could feel the tension melt off him in little waves as his shoulders slumped. “You will have to leave, one day,” he murmured. “It was only logical.”

“Then we’ll face that when it comes, okay?”

Felix sighed, closing his eyes, then leaned into you and settled his head on your shoulder. “Okay.” That one word was still rather wobbly, as if he didn’t believe you. His chest rattled with each of his shaky, uneven breaths. 

“Now, let me see you smile.”

You suspected you were pushing your luck with that, and your assumption had been proven correct when Felix rolled his eyes and sent you a rather unimpressed look. “No. That’s ridiculous,” he huffed. “I’m not an infant.”

You simply resorted to other means of achieving what you sought. Felix squeaked as you shifted to the side and rolled him onto your lap, laying down in the long grass in a similar position as you had in the library, long ago. This time, however, when his eyes went wide above you, you shot up and kissed him, merely a chaste peck on his plush lower lip.

His blush was more brilliant than the setting sun behind him, a bright, fiery red you couldn’t believe you ever thought to abandon. Though he groaned and stubbornly averted his eyes, Felix couldn’t help but smile- a mere quirk of his lips that was faint enough to miss.

And yet, it was good enough for you.

#Felix Escellun #Felix x MC #felix iskandar escellun #Last Legacy #Fictif #Fictif Last Legacy #Last Legacy Fanfiction #Fictif Felix #Last Legacy Felix #Sage Lesath #Anisa Anka #alexa writes #alexa plays last legacy #interactive games #rime varela #fictif sage #Felix Escellun X MC

[sinnamonrolle]

[ the little moments] ♡ Leviathan

4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀  gender neutral reader  ❀

“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.

“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.”

Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked.

He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.

“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”

When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.

Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying.

When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way.

“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”

“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”

Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair.

“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”

There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window.

“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.”

It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…”

His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.

“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”

You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public.

Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt.

“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”

Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”

The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears.

“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”

“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”

Pop.

“—too tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late.

The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.

“...”

“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?”

Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.

“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”

Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed.

“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A clown! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”

When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet.

Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”

Levi caught your hand.

“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand.

Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face.

Now, you were the one blushing.

Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”

-------

Masterlist!

#obey me #obeyme #leviathan #shall we date #OBEY ME #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd om #swd leviathan #obey me one master to rule them all #om! #om! mc #om! fanfic #om! leviathan #levitan #levi x reader #om levi x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc #sfw little post #the little moments #thelittlemoments #oneshot #fluff #gender netural reader #reader insert #fanfic #avatar of envy #leviathan obey me #obey me leviathan

[lucy90712]

Dream- quarantine

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks 

Wc- 1922

~ There has just been an announcement that we have to stay inside and quarantine for the foreseeable future. Obviously I'm not happy about it and in fact I'm quite scared but I know things will be somewhat ok because I have Clay with me. The two of us have been living together for a little under 6 months now so we aren't new to it so I'm hoping we should be ok.

Clay probably hasn't seen the news yet because he's been filming all morning but it won't be long before he's done and he finds out. I don't want to be the one to tell him because I know he's not going to be happy because him and George have been talking about him coming over for the last few months but that won't be able to happen now.

He soon finished his recording and came out to join me in the living room where I had the news on. He looked over and watched what was on the tv which changed his expression from a smile to a blank expression in seconds, he seemed just as upset as I was if not more.

"How long is this going to go on for?" He asked hoping I would know

"No idea they haven't said" I said

"I guess George isn't coming over then" he sighed

"I'm sorry but he will be able to come over eventually we just have to be patient you wouldn't want things to be unsafe when he comes here" I said

"Yeah I guess, at least I have you to keep me company" he said

He pulled me into him as he text George to tell him what was going on because obviously he wouldn't know. George FaceTimed him and we all had a talk about cancelling our plans at least for a bit but then we moved on to other things which made Clay a lot happier which was great because I hate when he's sad.

During the rest of the day me and Clay went to the store to get some things that we needed before it all sells out because people were flocking to buy essentials. It was stressful at the store but we stayed close to one another and managed to weave our way through mostly because Clay was so tall and can force his way through crowds. We made it out alive with most of what we needed so we called it a day just deciding that we would live without the stuff we couldn't get.

—————

It had been a little more than 3 weeks since quarantine commenced and my god has it been worse than I ever would have imagined, being stuck inside and only leaving to go to the store had really taken its toll on me and my mental health as well as Clay's sanity. He has been working constantly leaving me to do all the chores and be the one to go out even with cases rising at an alarming rate he doesn't seem too bothered.

We have also been arguing more than we used to with him spending so much time working and seeming to care so little I've kind of been mad at him but that doesn't seem to change anything. It's starting to feel like he just doesn't care about me anymore I mean he doesn't even come to bed at night most of the time and we only talk when I ask him what he wants to eat or when we're arguing. It's starting to feel like I'm losing him and I don't want that because I really do love him but I can't keep this up much longer I just feel like crying every night.

While Clay is doing whatever the hell he does during the day I was talking with sapnap because he called me out of the blue but it was nice to actually talk to someone for once. He was concerned that there was something wrong because Clay has been constantly available on discord when he normally takes breaks to spend time with me and he hasn't talked about me which he says he does a lot.

"Is everything alright between you two?" He asked

"I mean not really but I don't want to drop all of it in you so don't worry" I said

"No please tell me I don't mind" he said

"Ok well he's been spending all his time working making me do all the chores and go out whenever we need something most nights he just stays up then sleeps when I'm awake and we only talk when we argue or when I ask what he wants to eat" I rambled

"Y/n I'm sorry I can try and talk to him if you want me to" he offered

"No its ok he'll just be more mad if you say something I'll deal with it" I said

"You shouldn't have to put up with it he's not treating you like you deserve please don't just just let him do that to you" he said

"Ok I'll try and talk to him later" I said

Me and Nick came up with some sort of plan for later when he ends up talking to Clay he's going to leave the call so I can talk to him and have his full attention. He offered to do it sooner but I had things to do first that I had to get done as not to give Clay any reason to be mad at me even though I'm sure he'll find one.

Anxiety warning

I cleaned the kitchen and went to the store which was more packed than usual probably because of the timing but it stressed me out all on my own. People were pushing me out the way and people without masks on were getting all in my face and it scared me. This is the type of stuff I deal with all the time but today it was particularly bad to the point that I started shaking and struggling to breathe slightly in my mask. I had to try and get out of there as quick as possible which I did but probably forgetting some things in the process which means I'll have to come back probably tomorrow but I didn't care at the time.

Once outside and in my car I took my mask off and let myself breathe properly to calm myself down. It took me quite a long time to get a grip of my emotions and by the time I decided to leave I still wasn't feeling fully myself and my hands were still shaking slightly but that will probably go on for a little while longer. Nick text me just before I left saying that he was on call with Clay so whenever I was ready he would leave as he told George not to join to make things easier.

Back at home I made myself go into the bathroom to try and talk myself through what I was going to say and any comebacks I could think of to all the things Clay could say to me which was hard because he always manages to find something that I would never think of to say. I got my argument together but definitely lost the calm I had got back to earlier hands started shaking more again and becoming more clammy.

I text Nick to let him know I was ready and he text back almost right away to say that he had left the call and wished me luck as well as offered any help he could give if I needed it. I went into Clay's office to see him just sat at his desk doing nothing in particular at least that I could work out, he looked over and smiled at me which was not going to last long thats for sure.

"Clay can we talk?" I asked

"Yeah of course is everything alright?" He asked back

"I'm going to be honest with you I feel like you are ignoring me you are just working all the time and I get that your busy but before you always found time to spend with me and now I'm left to do everything by myself and it's starting to take its toll on me" I said as calm as possible

"You are kidding right I'm trying my best to support the both of us by doing all this work you think I want to be in here this much because I don't" he half yelled

"And I'm trying my best too I have been working from home everyday as well as keeping up with everything else and guess what I would rather not do that either but I do it to let you do all the stuff your doing, I had a fucking panic attack at the store earlier because it's all just too much" I said with more emotion this time

"You're not the only .... wait you had a panic attack I'm sorry I wasn't there to help" he said softly

It was like it hit him what I have been saying for weeks and it was kind of refreshing to have him finally snap out of whatever mindset he was in and come back to the real world where there are things that he needs to think about that's not just to do with me but his own health.

He got up for his chair and came over to give me a tight hug which I'm not going to lie felt nice because we haven't been this close in almost a month so it just feels nice to have some human contact. It calmed me down in seconds just like Clay does so well, he grabbed my hands and traced his thumbs over the back of them.

"I'm sorry y/n I'm so sorry I shouldn't have left you do do everything on your own you're right I've been spending too much time working and that's not fair on you" he said

"You don't need to beat yourself up over this I just wanted to get through to you and don't feel like you have to spend a ton of time with me I just want a better balance" I explained

He nodded and we talked things through like we needed to do this whole time, we worked things out and made some plans to better use both of our time but it was nothing that we had to stick to strictly or else that would cause more issues. We decided that Clay was going to try and be available to go to the store with me and most nights we are going to try and go to bed together or he will at least join me at some point.

During our discussion I got a text from Nick asking if everything went alright so I just sent a quick text back to say things went fine and should hopefully get better from now on.

Clay and I decided to spend the evening together and not just because he felt guilty he really just wanted to spend time with me after coming out of his old mindset and feeling tired of working. We didn't do much just spent time sat together on the sofa watching movies and eating takeaway. He had me sat on his lap pretty much the whole time holding onto my waist or playing with my hair.

#dreamwastaken #dream #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt #dsmp #dreamsmp

[shorkbrian]

THIS ISNT AN ASK I JUST GOT INSPIRED LOOKING AT YOUR TINGSSS; (Prohero) Yan Kiri responding to his (kidnapped) darlings' birthday request: Just do what they say for the day. Darling had to suck dick LONG AND HARD for this very special birthday wish, and spends the day dancing around the garden in a dress that they FINALLY got to choose themselves (the longest one they own) with gorgeous, full coverage underwear on. (1/2)

“This isn't an ask” then why it in my ask box hoe (Lolol I’m sorry I write what I see hope u don’t mind)

(What to expect - Cunnilingous, dubcon, noncon, NSFW, sexy birthday gift)

Yes you had to suck his dick, not to be allowed to wear the dress (Kirishima’s a sucker, and he likes seeing his baby in pretty little dresses that make them look all innocent), but to have him promise to not pin and fuck you the second she put it on (or at any point during your special day, just one day without sex, please? ur pussy needs a mf break)

Because it’s your birthday, Kirishima lets you order a dress online, sat in his lap of course, while he offers feedback.

“That one’s pretty.”

“Oo, you’d look so gorgeous in that color, you should get that one!”

“Eh, this one doesn’t seem like you, let’s look at a different one babe.”

“This is cute, but don’t you think it’s a little long? You might trip.”

His advice was unwarranted and mostly unwanted, hands distracting you by playing with your hair, kissing at your exposed shoulder while you scrolled through the options.

You finally decided on a dress, begging Kirishima to allow you to buy underwear as well to go with it. Kiri got excited for a second, and of course said yes, only to get confused and laugh when you added comfortable, un-sexy underwear to the cart.

But a promise is a promise, so everything gets purchased.

And the morning of your birthday, you get presented with the dress, the underwear, and breakfast in bed, which is slightly burnt, but the effort is somewhat appreciated.

Kirishima doesn’t bother you when you head to the shower (usually he follows you everywhere like an oversized puppy, and showers are never completed without his wandering hands and wet kisses), just smiles at you forlornly as he keeps his end of the “no touching” agreement for the day.

He doesn’t make you sit in his lap, or even next to him while you eat your breakfast in bed.

You don’t have his hands constantly touching you, wrapped around your waist, heavy on your shoulder, playing with your hair or skimming along your thigh.

Kirishima’s taken the day off, just so he can spend it with you, and he’s so glad. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes, you seem comfortable and relaxed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, and the man has never been so in love.

It’s obvious that he’s struggling to hold himself back from grabbing you - his fingers itch, his smile is strained, he can’t stop staring at you in that dress. But he had promised, and you took advantage of that.

Flouncing around his bulky form, swishing your dress, giving an enthusiastic twirl that maybe showed off a bit more of your legs than was considered modest.

Teasing him about the slight bulge in his pants that appeared after a little bit of flirting, feeling safe because he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

You were shameless about the flirting too, a sort of confidence filling you and making you giggly and feel light, even though you weren’t exactly fond of the man you were flirting with on account of all the things he had done to you. 

Kiri tried to convince you to stop, joking along with you at first but then quickly growing serious as you amped up your playful seductiveness, feeling powerful and in control because he couldn’t touch you no matter what.

His words were ignored, and you continued to live your best life, dancing around, licking food off of your finger with a mean smile, letting out little breathy moans whenever you stretched.

And the best part? Kirishima just had to sit there and take it. Just like he had forced you to accept his affection, you now forced him to accept the fact that you were wholly in reach, but absolutely off-limits.

That evening, you get ushered out to the garden, which Kirishima had “decorated” for you.

Technically, it was your garden, something for you to work on and occupy yourself with while Kirishima was off working. It wasn’t much, but you’d done your best with taking care of the plants.

Kiri had hung little twinkly lights in the trees, stringing them between the branches. He had set up a little table underneath the lights, a small cake, a bouquet of flowers, a few candles here and there.

It was romantic, and your heart swelled at the sight. In any other situation, this would be the absolute best birthday in the entire world. But today you wanted to be happy, so you didn’t think about all the reasons for why it wasn’t.

The two of you sat and ate cake, Kirishima recounting how many times he’d gotten cake slapped in his face by trying to surprise Bakugou on his birthday. You laughed, almost choking on cake, which made you laugh harder at the ungodly noise that left your throat.

You talked about your garden, animatedly gesturing to the various plants, explaining how you took care of them and what you still needed to work on. Kirishima listened intently, smiling at you.

He interrupted you in the middle of a story about your life growing up, holding a bite of cake towards you on his fork. Without thinking (he had been very insistent at first that he hand-feed you), you leaned across the table, opening your mouth and accepting the food.

You made eye contact, Kirishima’s eyes flicking down to your mouth, the way your lips stretched around the fork, the pink of your tongue as it accepted the bite. A moan was uttered, a smile teasing your lips as you licked at the frosting around your lips, bringing a thumb up to swipe it clean, sucking the digit into your mouth while moaning about how good it tastes.

And then Kirishima was breathing hard, red eyes locked on your own, calmly putting down his fork.

You immediately recognized what was going on, started rising from your seat the same time Kiri rose from his, holding your hands out and reminding the man of his promise. 

But he was done, you’d teased him all day. Enough was enough.

He grabbed your arm before you could even think about moving away, jerking you to him to capture your lips in a heated kiss, tasting the subtle hint of sweetness on your tongue.

As soon as he pulled away, you were admonishing him, saying he promised, telling him to stop touching you, he’s such a jerk.

But he had a one-track mind, picking you up to settle your weight in one hand, forearm under your rear as he cleared a space on the table quickly.

Then you were getting sat down on top of it, Kiri sitting back down in his chair as he pulled your hips to edge, quickly rucking up your dress.

“Kirishima! You-you promised! Stop, you said you wouldn't!” You cried, trying to push his hands away, push his head back, stop him from revealing your underwear, but he was determined.

“Sorry baby, I just can’t help myself.” Was the offered explanation while he pulled down your underwear, managing to get it off one of your kicking legs before giving up and letting it dangle off of one ankle.

He hunched over immediately, large hands gripping and angling your hips up so he could reach your pussy, licking over it messily. There was no technique, no rhythm, the man just wanted to taste you, practically drooling over your cunt.

You cried out, hands pulling at his hair, making him grunt, but he couldn’t be moved from between your plush thighs.

“You said-ah! Don’t Kiri-” You whined, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s my birthday, I-I didn’t want you touching me....”

Kirishima pulled back a little, brows furrowed. He reached over to the cake, your eyes following his hand as he scooped up a glob of frosting.

No, he wouldn’t-

He would.

“No!” You yelped, but his grip on your hip was firm as he slapped the handful of frosting onto your cunt. You keened at the odd sensation, the cool frosting quickly being heated by your warm skin, beginning to melt.

“Birthday girl, you’re all messy, gotta clean you up-” The man breathed, diving back down the suck at your skin, tongue enthusiastically licking up the frosting, your juices with it.

All you could do was cry.

He ate you out until the frosting was cleaned from you cunt, until your skin was shiny and slick with spit and your own creamy juices. By the time he seemed satisfied, you were shaking, thighs bracketing his hand while they trembled and convulsed at each eager lave of his tongue over your swollen slit.

It began raining, the soft pitter-patter droplets easily hiding the streaking of tears down your face.

Kirishima didn’t seem too phased, merely standing, pulling you into his arms and striding towards the door.

You could see the little area Kirishima had set up for your birthday, lights beginning to drop out of trees from the wind, the cake getting ruined by the elements, the scene quickly dissolving into a mess.

And Kirishima had barely gotten started with you.

#Yandere kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #birthday #tw dubcon #tw.dubcon #tw noncon #tw.noncon #bad writing #author sucks lol

[abbynx]

La Squadra Esecuzione as Best Friends Headcanons

Formaggio - Very chill, first and foremost, he is down for anything to do. Videogames? He'll try to beat your ass. Cat cafes? Heck ye he is down - The type of friend who will coax you to cut class to hang out behind the school or climb over the school fence to hang around the local arcade or theatre. But if he get caught, he won't snitch and he's willing to take responsibility. Begrudgingly. - Ohhhh physical touch is bare minimum for him. He'll occasionally lean on you, perhaps shrink himself to fit himself in your pocket just to platonically cuddle and perhaps, use you as a transport. - Will high five you as a greeting, and will high five you as a farewell. Usually followed by a hug too uwu "Bro!" He holds his hand out for a high five, in which you instinctively grant him one, when he also entwines his fingers through yours and pulling you for a hug, patting your back for a second and pulling away. "I missed you bro!" - Prepare for dumb jokes, dumb puns that he effortlessly come up with as time goes by. You can't go on a day without him cracking a joke. You'd either roll your eyes at it or laugh along with him. There's nothing in between "You see that guy over there, bro?" He leans on you, arm draped around your shoulder as he points at a person from afar. "Yeah, what?" "I say... You'd be a perfect match." You glanced at him, hearing him shake a box of matches as he wiggled his eyebrows with a dumb grin. - *Finger guns and bro intensifies* Illuso - That weird person you don't see yourself associating yourself with somehow befriended him for some reason. Most likely started when you both started to wake up at 3 AM and meet in the middle of the dark, in the kitchen, wanting to grab something to eat. At first it is awkward, but soon you learned to bond through it! And soon enough, your midnight chats extended to become actual friendships! - Seems distant, but he cares. He's the type pretend not to care about you, but will glare (or more than glare depending at the severity) at people who hurt you. He is the 'I'm the only one allowed to insult them like that' type of friend. "Huh, Formaggio hasn't been teasing me. I wonder what happened." You wondered aloud, as you say beside your friend Illuso. "Must be because of his bruised jaw. The previous mission must've been tough for him." "Yeah... That..." - Probs touched-starved. He acts irritated and push you away when you try to hug him, but secretly loves it. If you stop trying to hug him, he'd be kinda sad but will not say anything. - This friendship includes you listening to him rant about every little thing, and brag about things he can't do. He appreciates you listening to be honest, and that's initially how your friendships started anyways. - Will use derogatory terms as a term of endearment. Please don't be offended, he doesn't mean any offense "Hey idiot! Get your sorry ass right here! Risotto said we have someone to take care of!" "Thanks, dumbass." "Eyo slut! Take a look at this fugly idiot!" - Does not have the habit of knocking. In fact, he just barges into your room, through the mirror. In more than one occasion has he seen you undressed but he couldn't care less about it. "Hey dumbass can I borrow your— hey, stop screaming! Anyways I ran out of hair ties, do me a solid—" - Everyone around you being confused to how you two are most unlikely to become friends, but you two are practically unlikely twins Prosciutto - You can not stop me from assuming he is quite the mom friend if you pry his shell hard enough. Perhaps a mom friend mixed with tsundere friend. "Hey! Drink your water or I'll break your ankles! No I don't care that we're in the middle of killing someone! I packed you some water and you didn't drink it! Well shit I didn't pack it specifically for you, I just managed to pack extra! Now go ahead and drink, I'll handle this one myself! While you're at it, coat yourself with sunscreen! If I hear you whining about being burnt, I swear to God—" - If you happen to be a mom friend too, you'd be bonding over the

mutual stress of having to look over the rest of the gang over a glass of wine as chaos around you ensues because you two decided to take a small break. "Formaggio and Ghiaccio is up at it again..." You sigh, swirling the content of your stemware as the distant bickering of the two aforementioned assassins echoed. "Just... Let's just lay low. It'll be over soon." Prosciutto sighs along as well, before downing his glass of whiskey. "Hopefully." And it didn't end, as it ensued and progressive got worse. Stands were called, knives were thrown, guns were shot. And two mom friends of La Squadra almost lost their voice from all the yelling and lecturing - Will scold you for your bad habits. Bad posture? He will walk behind you, press his knee on your back and roll your shoulders back whilst he lectures you about it. Messy time management? Will buy you crap to make you keep track of time. Sleeping so late? He will take whatever you're distracted with, demand you to turn your lights off as he lights soothing scented candles and tossing you some comfortable blankets to use. Barely taking care of yourself? Bro prepare yourself. "I don't understand how you live like this! You'd be dead if you were to continue that habit! At least help me help you to make you be better!" - Very blunt and honest to the point it stings, but he never lies to people he is closed to. He prefers being upfront with his loved ones and will try to rebuild their confidence and reassure them that they can be better than what they are. "When I say you're idiotic, you're but a burden, I mean it. You have all rights to be hurt by it, but don't just live with it. Prove me wrong, that you can be better than that and you'll be the best version of yourself. I know you can do it." - Will accept hugs, but will most likely not hug back. Maybe he'll just out one hand on your back and lightly stroke it, but that's it. But in rare occasions, he will return them too. Sometimes, he'll even initiate it. - Your connection to him as a friend has lead several advantages. No one in general can make a negative comment about you with Prosciutto around. His glare alone was scary and they would not wish to stick around and find out what he can do than just glaring. - Extremely appreciates when you help him around by simply carrying things for him, fetching him coffee and actually doing your damn job properly is enough to make him be filled with gratitude. Pesci - Baby. Okay, so this boy. Boy oh boy, he is baby. Take care of him, bro. Don't coddle him to the point of him being entirely dependent on you, but sis you can always reassure and make him improve himself! Perhaps a tamer version of his relationship with his brother. - You two will mostly likely be friends because you always defend him from the others from teasing him and rooting for him. He is very grateful for it and can't thank you enough. Either that, or Prosciutto paid you to babysit him. - Will constantly cling on your arm when he's anxious. It's up to you whether you'll snap at him and slap his hand away, or just let him hang around you. He'll just simply grab your wrist, and sooner and later he'd have his body pressed against yours, completely clinging on the entirety of your arm. "D-don't leave me, Y/N! I'm scared—!" - He is extremely thankful for you watching over him and protecting and by this, he tries to improve himself a lot more just so he can confidently say he can watch over you and protect you as well - Just the sweetest little thing, whenever he'd be away with Prosciutto for a mission he'd return home bearing gifts from travel and he'd give it to you. It would be something either miniature, or something practical like a knife sharpener or something. "I-I got this for you... I hope you like it! Big bro helped me pick!" - Honestly, I can imagine him just being the best, supportive and encouraging friend there could be. If ever you needed someone to confide in, he'd just sit and listen and will certainly not repeat what you told him to others. He'll try his best to comfort

you, taking inspiration to how you comfort him and will just try his best to make you feel better. "I know life is rough and hard and bad, but you always told me it will change and soon it all be over and better. It's good that you recognise you're in a bad place, now you need to take a break and then later you won't even know you've already forgotten your problem! It's okay to be sad, too, but not for too long." - The type of friend that will share anything he has. He has a cookie with him? Shit, he'll split it in half and give the other half to you. Some soda? Well I hope you don't mind drinking from the same can as he is, he will give it to you. Melone - So this nerd isn't a complete creepy pervert, not entirely at all. He's chill for most of the time, so he's a neat company if you don't mind him bombarding you with questions regarding your genetics, heritage records, blood type, zodiac signs and whatnot. But knows when to stop. - You most likely befriended him because he is one of the chill people in the group... Somewhat. Or perhaps you just started to bond over mutual love for steamy, erotic novels from the same author. If this man has shame, his guilty pleasures would be reading these types of trashy novels filled with smut. - He is great as a wingman. Complain to him about your lack of a love life, he'll observe your types and he'll somehow come up with a list by the next day enthusiastically listing them to you in a PowerPoint presentation. "If you're into girls, I have this one right here! She's compatible with your zodiac sign, although she has quite the temper she can be extremely passionate and affectionate— or perhaps you're into men, that I have as well. Several, actually. This other fellow right here is also a part of Passione from the Human trafficking branch, stoic and quite a stern one, but knows when to lay low at times and appreciate those around him— either him or the girl, you'd make good babies together!" "Melone, what the fuck—" - Very touchy. He'd lean his head on your lap as you both read on the couch, or randomly put his head on your shoulder during meetings, grab you by the arm while crossing the road, smacking your ass as a greeting (if you tell him stop, he'd stop of course), will pretend to kiss you just so he can see your reaction, anything. He is one affectionate nut that he sometimes forget about personal spaces. If you're not particularly fond of being touched like I am, simply tell him nope. I mean, he'd be sad but will respect your boundaries. The only time he'll actually respect established boundaries, to be honest. - Knows the most random facts and will share them to you for the fun of it. Additional to that, he will also mutter his shower thoughts and random cursed facts out loud just so he can curse you with the knowledge and confusion. "Did you know that dolphins masturbate using dead fishes? Also, there was an experiment involving dolphins in which one of the scientist fell in love and had sex with it. Another fact, is that dolphins are also seen doing the deed—" "Okay, Melone, I get it! Dolphins aren't as innocent as they seem! Stop ruining it for me already!" ... "Did you know that a woman once used mayonnaise as a lubri—" "MELONE!" - Being his friends meaning being his impulse control. If he intends to use his Stand on some innocent passerby just for the heck of it (for science, as he claims), smack him by the wrist and glare at him. If he eyes a particular someone for too long that the person gets too uncomfortable, try to divert his attention away. "Ow! Y/N what the heck—!" "What did I told you about oogling at people? It's impolite and creepy, stop that!" - He may not seem like it, but bro he cares a lot. If ever you had a problem, he'd sit and listen, offer you his shoulder to cry on, and perhaps hang out to divert your attention away from what's bothering and hurting you. And if you need advice, he'll try his best to come up with a flawless solution to your problems. But if comfort is what you need, his arms are open baby. Ghiaccio

- Bro you must need emergency ear plugs for this one, he is a massive screamer, a ticking time bomb with no timer that will erupt at random. If ear plugs aren't enough, cover your ears. - Befriending him was an impulse control befriending him. Well, all you did was to constantly try to calm his tits and cool his head to the point he actually barges in your room to hang out so that he can cool his head from all of the shenanigans occuring all around him, or maybe he just had another thought about something maddening about the world. "WELL WHY?! WHY IS WOMEN'S CLOTHES SIZING CHART DIFFER FROM EACH STORE?! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE! INCHES AND CENTIMETRES EXISTS FOR A REASON, DAMNIT!" - There are moments where he isn't screaming, thankfully and he's a decent person to talk to. If you're a listener, he'll do the talking, just ranting about things, rambling on and on, before complaining, and then another outbursts comes out. By this, you simply sigh, put a hand on his shoulder and talk to him in a gentle, calming voice. It usually does the trick. Formaggio and Melone joked about this talent of yours as witchcraft. - He appreciates you a lot and honestly doesn't know what to do without you and by that, he knows he has to reciprocate the care you give him somehow to show he is grateful of your friendship and care. He isn't the type to be physically affectionate, but he is extremely thoughtful about his closed loved onesa and prefers to be practical about it. He would save you your seat in meetings, fetch you snacks if he ran out for an errand, etc etc. Extremely observant of your mannerisms, that he might point that out to you and you won't even realise you do that. - So like, he is very protective as a friend. He will do something whenever someone has wronged you in any way. The others teasing you? Bam, he'll shoot them back with a witty insult. Your s/o cheated on you? Ohohoho boi, be prepared to see their name on a headline on the daily news. Your order was wrong? Bam, he'll have the waiter shaking in fear from a screaming, angry Italian mafioso as he demands for them to remake your order correctly. "WELL CAGACAZZO?! QUIT STANDING AROUND AND GET ORDERS CORRECTLY—" "G-Ghiaccio it's just a minor thing, let it go—" "THEY SERVED YOU AN INGREDIENT YOU SPECIFICALLY TOLD THEM NOT TO INCLUDE BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO IT! WHY ARE YOU LETTING THIS SLIDE OFF?!" - All in all, he's just glad you're there for him because damn, someday his temper is going to get the best of him and he doesn't know what to do. And with your friendship, he's learned how to cope with his spontaneous anger by carrying soothing stuff to ease his nerves (courtesy of your suggestions and gifts for him) - Basically the dynamic of a rapid gremlin with rabies and a calm, sunshine personified angel. Everyone (Riz, including, but he's more subtle and dry about it) joked about the unlikely friendship, and how your ears must've lost a little bit of hearing capacity. Rissoto - I feel like he'd be extremely attached to a childhood friend. You've been friends since before you underwent the drastic change by going through a lot to get to where he is now, and still the only person that stuck around with him was you. By that, you became the most trusted by him due to the fact you've known each other for very long. - As his best friend, you're his confidant and finds himself often going to you if ever he needed advice, or needed to vent about his stress. He really isn't vocal but when he's confiding in you, his words spill out of his mouth usually sealed tightly just steadily flows, his big strong Capo veneer falls apart in front of you but he doesn't necessarily feel unsafe by being vulnerable. That's how he trusts you. - No one will dare to bad mouth you in front of the Capo, or else there'd be hell to pay for. I mean, teasing is fine, he knows you can handle burns from team mates here and there (and will silently smirk at it) but he will not stand it if they attempt to belittle you for something unreasonable. "Watch your mouth. That was

out of their control, stop blaming them for something they can't do." - The type of friend that doesn't know how to comfort someone, but will try their best. So as you spill your heart out, tears, snot, sweat and all, he'll just pull you to his chest and awkwardly pat your shoulders to get you calm and comforted. Not to mention, he is extremely stiff at the hug and is very unsure what words to say to you to not upset or offend you any further, so he'll just ride it out smoothly, and let you let it all out on his chest. It's not like he can't wash your tears, snot and sweat on his chest anyways. - Since he is very non-vocal, he's a good listener so rant all the way! Complain about the weather, about your lack of love life, about how underpaid the hitmen team is, anything! He won't find the perfect response, so he'll just nod along and perhaps comment occasionally on what your saying. "So like, ugh, I am soooo frustrated at how Prosciutto could say that to Pesci! He makes a good point, but it's redundant for him to be too harsh on him! Look, all I'm saying is, maybe Prosciutto should start choosing his words correctly so that Pesci won't feel too upset! You know???" You glanced at your friend, as he simply sat attentively beside you. He nods silently as a response. "Anyways—" - Extremely great at deduction and the way he reads people so easily is so unreal. And so he uses this to his advantage to know what's up with you whenever you seemed off. By this, he's able to tell whenever you're upset but scared to talk about it, frustrated but too busy to talk about, etc etc. And with this, he takes the time to drag you to take a seat, and talk about what's been bothering you. If you don't wish to talk about it at all, he'll let you be after with a reassurance that you can overcome whatever the heck you're going through. - Everyone is surprised that you two aren't married??? That you're just friends??? The way you two look just makes you two look like a couple and it boggles the others how you two aren't one.

#la squadra x reader #platonic #jjba part 5 #jojo golden wind #formaggio x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto x reader #headcanons #friendship #x reader

[spockshocked]

On “This Side of Paradise”

Watching the original Star Trek many decades after it aired, I cannot help but feel as though the conclusions I draw from certain lines, scenes, and even entire episodes must not be exactly as initially intended. Despite the caginess, both in canon and in external commentary, that Roddenberry and others employ in their discussions of the nature of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock’s relationship, and the subtext often burgeoning on text especially to a gay viewer, Spock’s perceived gayness extends beyond his ambiguous relationship with his Captain. Many of the cues that might cause a gay viewer to feel reflected by Spock come via the quirks of his Vulcan nature.

One episode which deals particularly with Spock’s internal conflict vis a vis his mixed heritage is “This Side of Paradise,” the 24th episode of the first season. Spock falls under the influence of alien spores that cause him to break down in what appears to be immense pain, before he confesses his love to a woman named Leila Kalomi, whose love for him had been unrequited for six years. Spock spends the majority of the episode under the influence of these spores, canoodling with Kalomi and giggling while hanging from a tree branch, until Kirk roughly snaps him out of it and the stoic science officer returns to himself. The spores appear to render their hosts relaxed, blissful, and dazed, an effect which can be undone through displays of strong negative emotion.

The most striking result of his time spent under the influence is the melancholy that seems to overtake him once the effect is broken. Once he has his bearings and realizes that Kirk has intentionally riled him so that the spores lose their hold, the first thing he says is:

SPOCK: The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore.

In the context of the episode, “belonging” is the eerie, almost cult-like description for one under the influence of the spores. Taken at face value, Spock’s comment is merely an observation that he is no longer being affected by them; Spock often makes somewhat banal comments seemingly for the benefit of the audience’s comprehension. However, this one seems to carry a double meaning. Consider Spock’s heritage: half-human and half-Vulcan, Spock constantly finds himself torn between two clashing cultures, truly “belonging” to neither. A substance that enables his full emotionality, effectively tipping the delicately balanced scales of his identity, provides a sort of relief. With the negation of its effects comes a return to the inner turmoil he experiences every moment of every day.

Spock felt like he belonged when he was able to feel and express romantic love for a woman. A simple reading of this might be that the ability to process emotion gave Spock a sense of belonging, but there is once again another, deeper analysis to be made. The assumption that gay couples would likely be commonplace by the 23rd century aside, the fact remains that the show was produced in the 1960s and there are no canon gay couples to be found. Therefore, it is possible to work within a metric where one might have a reason to remain closeted. If we approach Spock as a closeted gay man, then the female object of his affections becomes a key element in his feeling of “belonging.”

In typical Star Trek fashion, the exact effect produced by the spores is never elucidated. The implication seems to be that it provides some lowering of inhibitions and propensity for leisure. However, the spores could also be seen as pushing their hosts to pursue their ideal lives. Doctor McCoy gets notably more Southern, his accent thickening as he walks around singing the praises of the mint julep. It seems as though, while under the influence, he pursues things that remind him of the comforts of home. 

Spock, however, has no such comforts. Instead, he becomes something he could never be: able to reciprocate the feelings of a beautiful young woman who has pined after him for years. Once the effect of the spores is broken, he must then break the news to her:

LEILA: I love you. I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. We're happy here. [crying] I can't lose you now, Mister Spock. I can't.

SPOCK: I have a responsibility to this ship, to that man on the Bridge. I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else's.

Spock’s response is cool, as we have come to expect from him, but notably more candid that most of his observations about his own experiences. He starts by claiming a responsibility to not only the Enterprise, but to Kirk himself. This could be a simple declaration of loyalty to his captain, as it would almost certainly appear to Kalomi, or an allusion to some repressed feelings that would only register to him. His next line, however, carries some serious weight. “I am what I am” refers to his Vulcan heritage, but as is often the case, it could also easily be in reference to his own homosexuality. Either way, he is explaining why he is incapable of loving Kalomi; the difference is whether he is incapable of love at all, or of love for a woman. His “self-made purgatory” is both his entrapment between his Vulcan and human halves, and his repression of his sexuality. 

Spock rarely speaks about his mixed heritage and the internal conflict it causes him, just as he rarely speaks of his own emotions at all, but it takes its toll on him. Briefly finding relief from this conflict only makes the return to it that much more difficult, causing him to be even more terse than usual. Kirk even points out that Spock has been quiet about the experience:

KIRK: We haven't heard much from you about Omicron Ceti III, Mr. Spock.

SPOCK: I have little to say about it, Captain, except that for the first time in my life I was happy.

Spock has spent his entire life trying and failing to completely repress his human emotions in an attempt to become fully Vulcan. When he finally has the chance to experience them in full, he breaks down in pain at the wave of repressed emotions before he finally experiences untainted joy “for the first time.” However, that is not his authentic self either. Neither a logical Vulcan nor an emotional human, he is eternally trapped between worlds, and was only able to find joy in a brief and unattainable fantasy. He is so discontent with his own nature that he cannot be happy as he is.

To a closeted viewer, this final line of the episode, delivered as dryly as always, is heartbreaking. The first time in Spock’s life that he was happy was when he ignored an integral part of himself that brought him pain in order to live a moment of a life that he could never have. To those who have repressed their sexuality, convincing themselves that they felt attraction to those of another sex because it was what would make them belong, watching Spock find joy in this fantasy only to be crushed when he must return to reality is painfully familiar. 

Analysis of Spock and Kirk’s relationship is generally sufficient to read them as a gay couple. When Spock is viewed in isolation, however, he still comes across as gay to many viewers. Spock’s innate perceived gayness relies not on his attraction to men, but on his repression of his true self and of the emotions that he cannot bring himself to face. While chalked up by the show to his half-Vulcan heritage, it still strikes a chord in a very human gay viewer. 

#star trek #tos #this side of paradise #analysis #spock #gay spock #spirk #mine #yes this is a paper i wrote for fun

[morganaspendragonss]

hiya. could you write a fic where tk has a panic attack from carlos’s pov? 😘🧡

i can indeed! this is combined with an idea jamie ( @silvarafael ) had and very kindly allowed me to write - i hope you both enjoy! the first section is also based on a vague idea i had after watching the ep.

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.10 spoilers

TK is silent the entire drive home, choosing instead to stare out the window with his jaw firmly clenched, his hands making fists in his lap. The silence extends all the way into the house, right up until the point when he flops down on the couch with a loud, frustrated sigh, burying his head in his hands. 

At this point, Carlos knows not to push when TK is like this; he’ll talk when he wants to, and not a moment before. So he simply walks over, sitting next to him and placing a hand on TK’s back, rubbing gentle circles. TK slowly relaxes under his touch, unfurling his body, and Carlos is all too happy to let him shift into his arms, holding on and pressing kisses on the top of his head.

I’m here, he’s saying - not with words, but he knows the message gets across regardless. It may have only been less than a year since they started dating, but already they don’t always need words to communicate.

“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable back there,” TK says suddenly. “I know my dad kind of dragged you into it all, and that must have been awkward for you.”

“It wasn’t my favourite interaction with your dad ever,” he admits.

TK snorts. “Understatement,” he mutters, and Carlos laughs, tilting his head in agreement. “I am sorry, though, really,” TK continues. “It was amazing of you to even be there; you didn’t have to be. I’m sure there are hundreds of places you’d rather be than an intervention session for my dad.”

“You mean supporting my boyfriend through something difficult and important?” Carlos corrects gently, shifting to catch TK’s eyes. “Because there’s nowhere I’d rather be than there.”

TK blinks at him, managing to hold his gaze for all of two seconds before he blushes and looks away. He takes Carlos’s hand, tapping restlessly on the back of it - a sure-fire sign he’s still worked up about something, so Carlos leaves him be, waiting for it to come out.

“Is it bad that I’m pissed at him?” TK’s voice is quiet, small, and it’s mirrored in his body language when he turns to Carlos, drawing his legs up and hunching his shoulders. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to connect with him, and it just feels like he’s constantly throwing it all right back in my face. And he’s… He’s such a fucking hypocrite. Ever since my first overdose, he’s been going on and on about how good it is to talk about my feelings and how I shouldn’t keep things bottled up, yet he insists on hiding this shit from me.”

TK laughs, short, sharp, bordering on hysterical. “He didn’t even tell me when he was fucking dying; I had to find that out by myself. And I’ve tried. I haven’t stopped trying.” He deflates, sinking back into Carlos with a defeated sigh. “But there’s only so much I can take, you know? I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart breaks for his boyfriend. He wishes he could take the pain away; as it is, all he can do is hold him, and hope that he has enough words to at least dull the ache somewhat.

“It’s not bad to feel what you feel, TK.”

TK looks up at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think so?”

He shakes his head, kissing him again. “No. I think… I think your dad has treated you pretty unfairly, actually, and you’re well within your rights to be mad at him right now. But, I also think that you said it yourself; there’s only so much you can do. Before you can take care of your dad, you have to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re worrying over him.”

If TK’s eyes were any wider, it’d be comical. “But -”

“No buts.” Carlos smiles tightly, keeping his tone gentle. “TK, babe, you just led an intervention into your dad’s mental health, which I know was hard for you, yet you did it anyway because you love him. You tried, but if he doesn’t want to engage, then there’s nothing you can do.”

TK is silent for a long time, staring down at his lap. He’s still holding Carlos’s hand in one of his own, but his free hand is rubbing the material of Carlos’s shirt between his fingers; Carlos doubts he’s even fully aware he’s doing it.

“I know that,” he says eventually, voice little more than a whisper. “I do. I just wish he wasn’t so goddamn stubborn all the time.”

Carlos’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he speaks before he can stop himself. “Guess it runs in the family.”

TK stares at him, open-mouthed, and Carlos immediately regrets his words. He’s halfway through an apology when it’s like a dam breaks, and TK breaks out in giggles, his head thumping against Carlos’s chest.

“You’re lucky I love you, Reyes.”

Carlos grins and pulls TK as close to him as physically possible. “I really am.”

*

The call comes early the next morning, waking both of them up. TK grumbles as he smacks his hand against the nightstand in a blind search for his phone; the sight would be adorable if Carlos weren’t so tired himself. After the exhaustion of the past few days, he’d been desperately hoping to have a peaceful morning for once, maybe even - god forbid - to spend some quality time with his boyfriend without the threat of parents or work or sudden emergencies hanging over them. 

Clearly, though, it’s not to be, as TK suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, all traces of sleep gone.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he promises to whoever’s on the other end, before lowering the phone and turning to stare at Carlos, terror obvious in his eyes. 

“TK?” Carlos asks when he doesn’t speak, sitting up and slowly reaching out for him. TK startles at the contact, but quickly leans into it, covering Carlos’s hand with his own.

He swallows once, twice. “Buttercup’s sick,” he whispers. “Dad had to rush him to the vet’s. Carlos, what if… What if…”

He trails off, shaking his head viciously, as though he can erase the thought from his mind. Carlos quickly moves to steady him, stroking his thumbs across his cheekbones to calm him down.

“Let’s get dressed, okay?” he says, knowing reassurances won’t mean a thing right now. “Then we’ll go, and we’ll know more.”

TK just nods, quiet as they go through the motions of getting ready. Carlos makes sure to press an apple into his hand before they head out; he knows it will likely go uneaten, but it’s the only choice he has, given he knows that TK will refuse to stop for breakfast without finding out about Buttercup first.

If the drive back from Owen’s yesterday was silent, today’s is far worse. TK’s hands are constantly moving in Carlos’s periphery, alternating between fiddling with his apple, tugging on his clothes and hair, and rubbing at his face. On the rare occasion he does try to stay still, his hands end up twitching in his lap, followed by a sudden burst of anxious movement before falling back into some semblance of a pattern.

Carlos presses his lips into a firm line, accelerating more than is technically legal; at any other time he’d make a joke about how TK’s turning him into a criminal.

They’re forced to stop at a traffic light, and Carlos curses under his breath, getting jittery himself as the drive extends. He turns to check on TK, then curses again at the sight of his boyfriend’s pale face, his wide eyes and trembling body. TK gasps, then again and again, a hand going to his chest, and Carlos knows what this is. 

A panic attack, but the second he reaches to help, the lights change and he’s forced to keep driving. He keeps one eye on TK the whole time, heart beating faster as he seems to get worse, and he’s thankful when he spots an opportunity to pull over, taking it immediately.

TK stares, shaking his head frantically and gesturing in a motion that Carlos takes to mean keep driving. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t form words, breaths coming short and fast. He folds in on himself when they stop, eyes closed and forehead almost touching his knees as his body heaves and shakes.

Carlos unbuckles himself and shifts as close as he can, placing one hand on TK’s back and taking his hand in the other, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He’s had to do this a few times over the course of their relationship, shootings and kidnappings and disasters taking their toll on his boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make it any less difficult.

“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says, pushing his own fears aside. “Just breathe slowly, in and out, that’s it; it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

He keeps it up, murmuring assurances he barely registers himself until the shaking lessens and TK’s breath slowly but surely begins to even out. He straightens in his seat, eyes still closed, and leans his head against the headrest. 

Carlos pulls back, giving him a moment before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

TK shakes his head, then immediately changes his mind and nods. Still, it takes him a few seconds to speak. “What if it’s the cancer, Carlos?” he asks, peeling his eyes open, despair written all over his features. “He could - He could die, he could be dying right this second, and I don’t know if I can handle that, not after everything else.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “You just have to remember that we don’t know anything yet, and you have to believe that Buttercup will be fine until we do know more. We’ll take it from there, and if it is the cancer - which, yes, it might be - then we’ll all be around to support each other. Buttercup’s strong, though, I’m sure he’ll fight whatever this is with everything he has. He’ll be fine.”

Carlos smiles, noticing how TK is pretty much hanging onto every word he says. He takes a deep breath, briefly looking away before continuing, “As will your dad.”

TK frowns. “Who said anything about my dad?”

“TK.”

He sighs, hanging his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “this is a little bit about my dad. The longer he puts off this surgery, the more scared I get that the cancer will come back and we won’t get as lucky this time. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should be focused on Buttercup right now, but…”

“But,” Carlos agrees, reaching out and squeezing TK’s hand. “It’s okay, and it’s not stupid at all, I promise you. Let’s just take this one thing at a time, okay? First, we’ll get to the vet’s and find out how Buttercup is, and then we’ll see about having another conversation with your dad - maybe telling him what you’ve told me?”

TK exhales shakily, then nods. “Okay. Okay.”

Carlos gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand once more before shifting back in his seat to keep driving. “I’ll be right by your side,” he can’t help but say. He’s sure TK already knows, but the reminder can’t hurt, especially after what just happened.

TK stays quiet, but Carlos doesn’t miss the mumbled, “I don’t deserve you,” from the passenger seat. 

“Wrong,” he replies, eyes on the road. “You deserve the world.”

And, in his periphery, TK smiles.

#911 lone star #911 lone star spoilers #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjenny #reyeslonestartag #tuserjamie #anonymous

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.  

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t  turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next?  I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.     

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.  

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.   

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.  

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.  

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on. 

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you.  A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less  turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust  the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up.  You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.  

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth. 

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

 “Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.  

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.  

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.  

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room –  he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes floof #it's a deal #it's a deal chapter 7

[engagemachine]

"You're so gentle," she tells me. They all say it. I hear it from my patients every time I take their arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around it, or when I place my stethoscope on their belly, or when I rub circles into their back when I've helped them sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in three days. Sometimes they cry, because it's the first tender touch they've felt since they've been in the hospital. It's very humbling and at the same time very concerning -- why has no one else offered this tenderness to you? Why am I always the first?

But I don't feel gentle. Not when a pair of ribs are cracking beneath my hands as I'm doing chest compressions on a Covid patient who's stopped breathing--the second time I've administered CPR on a Covid patient in two days. I don't feel gentle when I'm wrestling with a patient and begging for them to keep their oxygen mask on. When I have to hold them down and hold them still so my coworker can draw a blood sample. I don't feel gentle when I'm inserting a nasogastric tube down someone's nose, then throat, and into their belly while they're gagging around the tube and their arms are flailing. And I don't feel gentle when I'm washing a sacral wound with bleach and they're crying because it hurts. I don't feel gentle when I have to shout, beg, and plead for patients to listen, when I tell patients they're going to die if they don't keep their oxygen mask on. I don't feel gentle when I have to place a patient in restraints, or when I call a family member and tell them that their loved one's condition hasn't improved. I don't feel gentle when a patient tells me they can't breathe, they can't breathe, I can't breathe, and I'm yelling for coworkers to call the doctor while I'm cycling through different oxygen masks and trying to administer medication to slow their respirations and calm their anxiety.

I'm writing this because I feel like I've been living a little bit behind a veneer on here, although I know deep down that's not really true; I have always wanted my blog to feel like a positive space for anyone and everyone, including myself. I come here to have fun and destress and that's why you usually don't see me reblogging content having to do with politics or global news. I think it's possible to create a healthy space where one does talk about those things and spreads awareness for important causes, but for me, Tumblr is where I come when I need to escape the harsh realities of real life. This is my platform where I can indulge in my fictional proclivities and interests, where I can appreciate art, photography, beautiful writing, my favorite films, music, and cute animals. That's what this space is about. I also have loved meeting new people and getting to know my readers and making new friends and chatting about my stories. That's why I'm here and I thank you all so, so much for indulging me in my passions and for encouraging my writing the way that you have: it has helped me weather the current storm of stress I am feeling in more ways than I could possibly convey.

But I have to be very honest with you all about how much I've been struggling lately, as I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point and I'm somewhat at a loss for how to handle it.

Since September of last year, I've been on an accelerated track to finish the degree I'm working towards, which is a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I've been a nurse for four years, but I graduated from a two-year nursing program versus a four-year program because I wanted to get into the field earlier than some of my peers, which has been great. Anyway, my school counselor/mentor and I agreed that I could obtain my BSN in a year if I really pushed myself. The program I'm in is self-paced, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most of my classes I have finished in about three to four weeks. Other classes, like biochemistry, took substantially longer, about seven or eight weeks, if I remember correctly. All of the classes have relied on my ability to self-teach, as there are no scheduled lectures to attend, only assigned readings and videos to watch, if you choose to do so. Fast forward to the end of May, when I went to visit some family, and, upon my return home, really started to lose some of my motivation to complete my classes. I was meant to finish my program in August (this month) but agreed with my mentor that I would take a short break and put my last three classes on hold so that I could resume the program in September. I've enjoyed approximately a month off from school, but "enjoyed" is a term I use loosely here as I was also picking up extra shifts at work because we've been so short staffed and losing nurses left and right.

Which brings me to the main cause of my stress. This pandemic has completely changed the landscape for how I administer care to my patients, and the stress of the care itself has been so utterly overwhelming at times I can hardly bear it. I broke down in tears at work on Sunday morning, shortly after 4:30 am, right there at the the nurse's station, and was sobbing so hard that my supervisor had to pull me away so that I could have some privacy. I wish I could tell you that I sobbed harder than I have in a long time--but I had sobbed at work with that same intensity just four weeks prior, only, I had been alone at the time. It's becoming a trend--I either cry at work or I cry at home--because the stress of this job has become unbearable.

I wish--I desperately wish--I could convey to you the seriousness of Covid. I think so much of the world has already decided to move on from it because they're so tired of having to deal with it and, quite simply, are ready to return to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore and when--or if--we'll ever be able to return to it. And that has caused me a fair amount of stress and anxiety in and of itself. I miss traveling so much and I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I haven't seen one of my best friends since the fall of 2018 for this reason, which kills me.

I've seen so much death. Transferred so many patients to the PCU and ICU. Frantically chased patients' oxygen saturation, trying to keep them from circling the drain. Being responsible for six or seven human lives at one time is a stress you cannot fathom unless you have done it yourself. I have cried with a patient, a young woman, who had lost her husband to Covid only hours before in the ER, a young woman who was now faced with battling Covid herself but also planning the funeral of her high school sweetheart from her hospital bed. I have wheeled a patient to the ICU so that he could say one final goodbye to his wife--married for over 50 years--before they pulled the plug and removed her from the ventilator. I have raced down the hallway with my patient on BIPAP, pushing his bed to the ICU and praying that he doesn't stop breathing on the way there. I've had to console crying family members over the phone who are worried about their loved ones, not to mention my crying coworkers who are as overwhelmed as I am. These are just a handful of experiences from the past month alone. There are so many more.

The discomfort of my job has become secondary. I expect, now, to be wearing an N95 for a full twelve or thirteen-hour shift because there isn't time to take it off. Not having a chance to pee or go to the bathroom during that time. Not drinking any water until I'm in my car and taking off my mask and finally taking a deep breath.

On a more personal note, I am continuing to lose weight and it's so discouraging. In high school I used to wear a size 2 or 4. Now, depending on the brand, I wear a double 00. My hair is falling out because of my stress. I haven't slept during the night in... I don't even know how long. I'm constantly tired. Exhaustion hits me like a great tidal wave and I am powerless to stop it. I expect now to crash during the middle of the day on my couch, only to wake up at 11pm and be wide awake for the rest of the night, and, if not wide awake, then in an out of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I have thought about leaving my job, but the idea of job hunting during a pandemic, and while I'm in school... it just makes me feel even more stressed.

I need a break, but it feels like there's nowhere to go to escape. I fantasize about some great adventure, going somewhere I've never been, but I also really miss my family and I'm scared to go home to visit.

This post doesn't really have a conclusive ending. I'm just exhausted and overwhelmed. Any prayers/thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

#text

[sylvies-chen]

Chenford + 78

78. “I’m just looking out for you.”

Tim's yelling at Grey.

Lucy doesn't believe her eyes. He hardly even raises his voice at Grey, nevermind shouts at him. Tim preaches respect for superiors constantly, this isn't like him at all. But what she really doesn't believe is that he's doing this over her.

Someone's been following her lately. Or someone's following Nova, she should say. Her UC operation has been going pretty smoothly up until a few weeks ago when one of the members of the team trying to push drugs on the street grew suspicious of her. From relentlessly grilling her on her background to showing up at her apartment at random times in the day or night with threats, it's been a rough two weeks of more pressure and stress than usual. She's here now, risking dropping by the precinct to talk to Grey and Harper about it. Ultimately, it's Grey's decision, but Nyla's been guiding her through it so she'd told Grey that she'd side with whatever Nyla says.

And then Tim had showed up.

He'd already been on shift when she got there but was quick to get involved. Lucy knows he's always felt somewhat responsible for her, especially after what happened with Caleb. Only he's here now, arguing with Grey and Harper behind closed glass doors as Lucy waits outside, and just... wow. This is a whole other level of concern that sends her stomach churning with a dangerously wonderful flutter.

The arguing continues for a few more minutes until Tim shakes his head and walks out. Lucy can see his infamous jaw clench from a mile away.

"Hey," she calls out to him, closing the space between them.

"Hey." He meets her eye, almost surprised to see her as if he was too caught up in thought to notice Lucy's presence before.

"What the hell went on in there?" She doesn't ask it maliciously, but she's determined to get him to tell her and she lets him know as much in a simple glance alone.

As expected, he caves and lets out a heavy sigh. "I told Grey the only way to keep you safe was to get you the hell out of that operation."

"And that merited yelling at Grey?" She crosses her arms and waits expectantly for an answer.

"Yes," he grumbles meekly. "I told him and Harper what the risks are but they're set on putting you back in."

"I can take care of myself just fine, Tim," she assures him sharply, more than a little frustrated. He should know better than anyone how true that statement rings. Lucy is tough, she can do this operation regardless of the asshole that's been watching her and threatening her endlessly. She can handle it. Does Tim not see that?

"I know that, I really do," he assures her, almost as if on cue. "I trained you after all, didn't I? I know how strong you are. I just don't see the point in keeping you in this operation if it'll put your life in danger. It's minor compared to some others, it's not worth the risk. You can take your pick of operations, trust me, there's a dozen others. But keeping you in is just going to cause more trouble than it's worth."

"I'm in too deep now though, I need to finish it," she explains. "These guys are going to want me to finish the product in two days and we'll make the bust then. It's too late to pull me out, that'll grow more suspicion than just having one dealer riding my ass."

"That's what Grey said," he huffs, rubbing at his temples in frustration. "Am I the only one here who gives a damn about keeping you safe?"

She blinks at his words, the familiar flutter in her stomach returning. His eyes won't leave hers-- they're fixed, piercing. Gentle. His lips part slightly when she exhales softly. She doesn't know why or, at the very least, wants to pretend she doesn't. "You want to keep me safe?"

It shouldn't surprise her, really. They've worked together for nearly four years now and he trained her. It only makes sense that somewhere along the line, some sort of protective instinct developed between them. God knows Lucy feels protective of him at some times. But the way he says it, the aching fierceness, it makes her feel like Tim Bradford doesn't care about much else.

"Yeah," he replies, leaning in closer and swallowing hard. "I, uh-- I mean, of course I do. I'm just looking out for you."

"You always are," she nods wistfully in response.

There's a light but tense beat of silence between them where the precinct sort of fades out into a blur. All that's left is the two of them. Nova's been a pain in the ass to have to play these past few weeks and coming here to be herself has been so refreshing. But Tim, she realizes, is the only person who can make her feel more Lucy than she's ever felt.

"Besides," he says, clearing his throat and breaking the silence. "I put hard work into training you, Boot. We wouldn't want that to go to waste."

Her heart sinks, unable to fight the disappointment that comes with the end of their small but heated moment. She smiles nonetheless, taking a deep breath in and remembering how to breathe again. "Right," she laughs weakly. Nothing's truly funny about it. Maybe, in another world where she were brave enough, she'd tell him that she doesn't ever want him to stop caring about her safety-- about her. That she's missed him while undercover. But here, now, there's no courage to be found for those words. "Yeah, the training. We wouldn't want to tarnish your perfect T.O. record."

"Yeah," he chuckles meekly. It's a laugh almost as hollow and ingenuine as hers was, which sparks her attention only for a moment before she decides she could have been imagining it. "Well uh, I should get going. I need to change before leaving shift and I don't think Grey and Harper want me to stick around much longer anyway after giving them flack so..."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then," she tells him. "Or, well... soon, I guess."

"Two days," he corrects her. "I'll be there for the bust."

"Right," Lucy nods. "Two days."

Tim gives her a rare, warm smile after that and leaves. Lucy automatically slumps her shoulders, drowning in the complicated little emotions that dizzy her brain.

We wouldn't want to tarnish your record. Hah. If only he knew how much she wanted to screw up his record-- his reputation. Her reputation. It's a deep, personal admission, wanting to say screw it to the rules and do something about the indescribable pull she has toward Tim Bradford. But things aren't always meant to be broken, especially not those things. Some lines just can't be uncrossed.

But she stays extra cautious the next two days, looking over her shoulder and wondering if, at each given moment where she feels a nervous tingle on the back of her neck, Tim is worried for her too.

#abby writes #fanfic prompts #prompt requests #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #lucy x tim #tim x lucy