#it says in my bio i don’t have anything against shipping and i don’t really but i prefer for it to be kept... away from me lol

[sohya]

camera's rolling

pairings: souya x afab!reader

cw: camstars souya n reader. reader uses she/her pronouns. f receiving oral. puppy hybrid!souya. breeding. a lil bit of possessiveness. probably ooc souya. fingering. kinda switchy souya n reader. soft dom souya. consensual filming. 'puppy' is used excessively for souya.

wc: 2.7k

notes: for @eijirhoe's cat girls are ruining my life! collab :] thank you so much for letting me join !! omg tbh i haven't written a non-self ship fic since last year so i was very nervous but then while i was crying over a bokuaka fic last night i came up w this idea and scrapped the prev drafts i'd written beforehand n stuck to this n i really like it. i think idk im so nervous puppy!souya's gonna be in my head for the next forever. he was def a shiba inu in this :P

the world of pornographic websites have grown exponentially within the past decade. livelihoods depend on them, for creators and viewers alike. if you were to go to one of the rising websites and click on the ‘popular now’ tab, you’d find profiles with enticing but exaggerated horny bios. from couples, women who specialize in solo livestreams and everything far and between.

but then you’d notice the profile on the fifth spot, completely out of place. the profile picture looks to be a body shot with a mop of blue curls resting against a stomach, the bio says ‘just a girl and her puppy’, you’d be intrigued. how a plain looking profile can be so high in the current popular profiles.

being one half that makes this profile complete, you still can’t grasp your head around this popularity, you’re so sure that everyone comes across your profile just to watch souya, your puppy hybrid boyfriend. the one who loves you so hard and so deeply and shows it through the videos you make, he has the most perfect body with a sensitive tail and even more sensitive ears. touching these places elicit the prettiest sounds from him and though the two of you don’t show your faces, hiding under blurred circles or matching masks, people stay and watch just for him, you’re sure. the comments say otherwise though, an equal number of comments talking about the two of you and how horny your content gets them. how puppies wish they had someone like you to take care of them and how some people wished they had the perfect puppy like souya. 

you still find yourself basking in the popularity anyways, just as much as souya does, that it feels like second nature when you prepare all the lighting while souya sets up the cameras, making sure the view of the bed is just right while another gets a different angle of the entire room from the side. then, you press record and then the magic starts.

donning a mint green matching lingerie set, decorated with frills and lace around the edges, souya doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. like yours, the top half of face is covered with a mint coloured decorated mask but his eyes peak through the holes and you can see the way they sparkle as you make your way over to him. the camera to the right of you doesn’t catch the way his tail wags high up in the air, but if the sound doesn’t catch it either you can just add the footage from the other camera later when you edit the video.

“all good to start, puppy?” you ask as you stop in front of him, legs slightly parted as he brings his hands up to slide along the outside of your thighs. with a smile on his uncovered mouth, he nods and you bend down, delicate fingers tickling the underside of his chin as you plant a sweet kiss on his lips. 

when you stand up again, he immediately leans forward and presses a kiss to the inside of your thighs before moving his mouth up to where your clit is underneath the fabric of your panties.

he breathes in deeply, moaning in a low tone at the soft smell of the freshly washed fabric mixed with your arousal and the faintest hint of your sweet perfume. “get these off for me.” his voice is muffled with how much of his face is covered in between your legs. you let out a soft laugh as you card a hand through his hair and ease him out from his hiding space. he follows your movement reluctantly and when he looks up at you again, you give him a sorrowful look, tilting your head to the side with a small pout. “have to get you out of there if you want it off, puppy.”

souya hums as he nods, hands moving up to the hem of your panties. despite his insistence to take them off, his hands move slowly as he pulls the fabric down your legs. eyes trained on your pussy, he watches as it slowly reveals itself when your panties descend. they don’t even reach the floor by the time souya loses patience and plants his mouth against your clit again. 

you gasp at the suddenness of his action, wobbling slightly as you step out of your panties while your other hand joins the first one in tangling themselves in his mop of curls. “that’s it, puppy. take what you want.” your eyes relax as they focus on him, how his eyes flutter shut as his tongue peaks out and trails down your folds before sliding back up and flicking against your clit. his hands find purchase on your hips now, guiding you to jut them out forward, giving him easy access to bury his face into your mound.

when he captures your clit into his mouth and pleasures you with suckles, you reward him with blunt nails scratching against his scalp, pretty moans falling from your mouth as you roll your hips against his head before pulling back at the peak of your stimulation. 

at the first breath of fresh air, souya’s soft pants fill the room but he still has the hunger in his eyes where he’s insatiable until he gets another taste of you. “god, ‘t feels so good, puppy. you’re doing so well.” you coo through gritted teeth as your hands move to the sensitive spot behind his ears, rubbing his scalp and eliciting a drawn out whine from him that makes heat erupt throughout your body.

he blinks up at you as he moves down further, the fat of his silky tongue parting your folds and sitting flat for you to grind against. he watches as your nose scrunches up and your eyes flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you chase your orgasm on his tongue before slowing your hips into rolls. “want me to cum, puppy?” he nods against you and the motion has your knees buckling, “gotta work for it then, almost got me there. making me feel so good.” your voice is breathless and sweet and it has souya warming up to the point where he feels like he’s burning with desire. praise after praise and all just for him, he’s determined to make you feel better than anything you’ve felt in your entire life.

he sucks a deep breath in through a gap, filling his lungs with enough air to keep him conscious while he closes his mouth around your clit, letting you maneuver his head to the right position before he begins sucking. you choke back a whimper as the wet sounds of him sucking your clit sounds throughout the room but louder in your ears. “that’s right, pu– puppy ah, i’m gon– i’m so close!” 

souya groans his appreciation and continues sucking, tongue peaking out to join in the pleasure by sinking into your tight hole that you startle before relaxing in his grip as your orgasm erupts like syrup straight down his throat. your voice carries through with soft moans as you twitch against his face, his tongue easing out of you to lick your cunt clean of the remnants from your orgasm.

you’re panting softly as you come down from your orgasm, body twitching positively with aftershocks to the heat and softness of souya’s tongue and mouth. when he finally lets you go, you bend down to his height level before pressing your kiss against his in a heated kiss. his hands come up to adjust your mask before they move down to cup your face, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks. you moan into his mouth as your tongue slips into his to lick at the taste of yourself on him while your hand travels down to stroke his achingly hard cock and the other to his flitting tail which has only grown more excited at the feeling of your lips on his. 

“need a break?” souya asks in between sweet pecks to your lips. you nod as he plants a kiss to the tip of your nose before sitting back while he stands up and stops the recording on both cameras.

the break is what it usually consists of, refreshing gulps of water and a few minutes to cuddle and draw the connection in once again before the two of you get up to move the cameras around. setting them up in position that promise a better angle of the next scene which will be on the bed. 

when the camera’s recording again a few minutes later, souya’s leaning over you one hand intertwined with yours that's lying in front of you while the other is bent at the elbow, fingers parting your slick folds before sinking inside. your clench around him is immediate, two thick and long fingers are just enough to stretch you out comfortably.

your knees part to give him more room as he begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the sloppy wet sound increasing in volume as he whispers into your ear. “you’re gonna be loud for your puppy, right? let all our viewers hear how good my cock makes you feel, hm?” right on cue, your vision focuses on the camera in front of you, capturing the scene of souya’s body on top of yours, his hand over yours and the twitching flex of his other shoulder as its fingers pump into you. at least from this angle, they can also see the way his tail wags erratically.

“mhm, gonna be extra loud for you, puppy. m–my puppy.” you slur, hips bouncing back so skin meets skin while his fingers dig deeper into you. he rewards you with a kiss before sitting up on his knees and pulling his fingers out of you. the hand holding yours releases after a short squeeze before landing on your bare back, now void of the matching bra, pushing you down and arching your back so your ass remains high up in the air.

“your puppy. all yours.” he agrees as he takes the head of his cock and rubs the tip along your folds. you’re clenching impatiently, twitching to hurry and ease him inside but he’s the one in control. it’s silent for a few seconds but you can feel a whine bubble from the back of your throat, only releasing it when you feel a warm glob of spit land on your ass before it’s smothered down to your cunt with the head of souya’s cock. then, finally losing patience himself, he pushes his head in and sinks into your hole slowly and all the way until his balls rest against your clit.

the two of you let out long sighs of relief as your walls encompass his cock, thick and long and so familiar that you squeeze around him extra tight like you’ve been without him for months. he shudders as he grabs your hips, quickly getting used to the feeling of your warmth around him before he draws his hips back and pushes into you again. he starts off slow, letting you grow accustomed to his cock and its hardness as it prods and grazes against your sensitive walls. 

“look at you, taking all of me in. such a good girl.” the smile is so evident in his voice and you grow dizzy with pleasure. 

“puppy, pl- please move. ‘make me so feel good, ‘nd i wanna make you feel good too!” 

he groans as you quickly lose your mind, giving in and setting a pace that he knows you love, enough for you to fidget against the bed but not nearly fast enough for the creaks to sound at the roughness of his thrusts. the camera catches the way your ass jiggles as they meet his hips and the way the lines of his abs deepen with each exertion. perfect material for all your viewers to lust and fawn over when they watch over the finished product.

“can’t hear you, baby. what happened to being loud for your puppy, huh?” souya asks, his hand snaking through your hair and tugging you up so your face is in view of the camera but your mask falls off. the annoyance at the realisation that he’ll have to edit in a blurred circle over your face quickly disappears when he looks at the viewfinder, seeing your eyes roll while your mouth falls open in a sharp gasp. he pushes a rough thrust into you and you cry out, sweet voice falling into a moan that ends in a delirious puppy!

“that’s right, let them know, baby. l–let them hear how good puppy’s good is ma– making you feel– ugh.” he releases your hair and lets you fall face first into the soft blanket, stilling with his cock still deep inside you as he picks up your mask and readjusts it over the top half of your face. “gotta keep your pretty mask on, can’t have people seeing that pretty face or they’ll want you even more, right?” he coos, voice so sweet but in this context, it causes a shiver to run up your spine at his possessiveness. 

you shake your head, “‘m all yours, puppy. no one else, just you!” you muffle into the bed sheets and he hums as his hand cups the underside of your face, lifting your face to the side before smashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. your mouth falls open and he slips his tongue inside, turning the kiss messy with your noses brushing against each other’s cheek. “please move again, puppy. wanna feel you cum inside.” he coos at your pleas, smiling sweetly against your lips that have turned glossy with the mix of your spit and his. 

“‘course, baby. my cum doesn’t belong anywhere else.” souya rubs his cheek against yours as he arches his back to rut into you. you mewl at the closeness of him, how his skin covers yours and the sweat emanating from both of you sticks the two of you together.

feeling the last phase begin to take its toll, souya stands up on his knees once more, one arm curling around your waist to press hardened fingers against your clit, rubbing your nub in time with his thrusts which pick up with enough speed and force that has you gasping and biting into the sheets beneath you. completely overwhelmed, heat settles in the pit of your stomach and quickly spreads throughout the rest of your body, familiar enough that you know what’s approaching.

“hnggh pu– puppyy i’m gnna cum!” your sentence trails off in a drawn out moan as your body tightens up and your pussy grips souya’s cock in a vice tight grip, orgasm washing you in waves that has your brain emptying into nothing. 

“yeahh baby, just like that. so tight around me, i love it.” he groans as he fucks you through the twitches of your climax. he swears he can feel every single one of your muscles stimulating his cock, milking him for his own cum to fill you up. with his mind slowly giving into the blissful feeling, he doesn’t get the chance to announce his own climax, using the last of his energy to fall on top of you, mouth beside your ear and groans spilling out of his lips in time with the cum spilling deep into you. you turn your head just in time for his lips to find the side of your mouth before they connect with yours. your breath mixes with each other’s as you pant heavily, letting the sensation of your orgasm mellow you both out. 

“love you s’much, puppy.”

souya smiles, his heart feeling so full at your softness.

“i love you too, baby.”

two days later, after editing the video and inserting clips from both angles, it’s ready to be posted. you’re both resting against the couch in the living room, relaxing after an hour long livestream that still has your body and muscles aching. your work laptop is in souya’s lap and you watch as he puts the final edits to the video description before finally pressing ‘post’. the two of you share one final kiss and that’s that.

the next morning when you wake up, you get a notification from the website, congratulating the two of you for the top spot on the site’s popular creators and that’s all it takes for you realize the success of your popularity doesn’t come from souya exclusively, but from the both of you.

#souya x reader #souya smut #souya kawata smut #souya kawata x reader #angry smut #angry x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev smut #anime smut #reupload bc i posted it too late if you saw the first version no you didnt #mon's words

[seaweed-s0up]

I don’t really know how to preface this but;

I had recently discovered your art on Twitter when it saw a mutual of mine bought some stuff from your shop and I instantly also had to buy a bunch of tachioda stuff you had!

And before I could really post a thank you on Twitter I had noticed that you had blocked me and I was so shocked and a little upset because I don’t really interact with the rgg fandom and I was very confused until I discovered that the reason I had been blocked was because I had a “proship dni” in my bio which kind of shocked me even more. I don’t really want to start a whole proship vs ‘antis’ argument because it’s tired and overdone but I will say that the main reason I personally had that in my bio is because I’m anti pedophile and anti incest.

I obviously know that I am not entitled to view your work or to keep viewing your work even if I paid you previously but the whole situation left a bad taste in my mouth. Especially because I believe the whole ship discourse is more nuanced and not all black and white. I will always stand against pedophilia and incest even if fictional; and to see a ship that’s near and dear to my heart be put on the same pedestal as that stuff was horrible, especially by someone who also loves said ship.

I’m sorry you have a vendetta against these hypocrites you talked about in your tweet but not everyone who is an “”anti”” are like those people you talked about.

I guess what I was trying to get at here is that I was hurt to see an artist I really liked and supported seemingly blocked me without reason or explanation as would any person. And then to find out what the ‘reason’ was was somehow more upsetting. This ended up being more of a vent to myself than anything but oh well, you don’t have to respond at all, I was just letting my frustrations be known, c'est la vie, etc etc

this is a wildly inappropriate message to send to someone in response to them setting a boundary

#ask

[risingscorchingsuns]

hi everyone, welcome to my blog!!!

my name is Leon, and i really, really love demon slayer! kny has been a huge comfort for me for years, and it’s been a special interest of mine since about november 2023. i want to create a space that is safe and fun to share with other people who are as passionate about kny as me!! :D

a bit about me!

yippeee yay i love demon slayer!! it’s my main special interest, and it means a lot to me! rengoku is my favorite character and all-time comfort character, (i have a tattoo to honor him!) but i love every character, really!! my other favorites are inosuke, shinobu, akaza, tengen, genya, senjuro and mitsuri :))

my pronouns are strictly he/him! please do not use any other pronouns for me- this includes they/them! (i have nothing against they/them pronouns, they just don’t suit me <3) i am a gay trans man, and a lot of my writing for Hikaru reflects my experiences as such! :)

additionally, i am very neurodivergent and often struggle with tone and responding quickly to dms! please be patient with me- i am trying my best! tone tags are very helpful for me <3

This is a kny blog, but my other interests + hyperfixations include resident evil, (4 specifically!) deepsea marine bio, minecraft, and stardew valley! im always happy to talk about non-kny stuff, i just have constant rengoku autism <3

rules and expectations!!

i am 20 years old! that being said, this is a sfw blog!! i won’t ever post any direct nsfw here, but I may post gore/body horror at some point, generally aligned with what would be typical of Demon Slayer. any posts that contain more than mild gore will be appropriately trigger warninged! i also might post kissing and things like that, but never anything too explicit!

mostly though, this is just a fun safe space for me to blorbopost about rengoku and to share mine and my friends’ ocs :)

additionally, I have read the manga, and this page will contain spoilers!! please keep that in mind!!!

DNI and boundaries!!

DNI if you:

are a proshipper

ship RenTan specifically but really any of the ships that fall into that category

hate on furries

look man just don’t be a bad person ok

not exactly a DNI, you’re still welcome on my blog, but please note i will probably not follow you back if you also selfship with rengoku! i mean no ill intent- doubles make me anxious and it’s a personal boundary 😓

My Tags!

I’ve got a few tags, and frankly im kinda bad at keeping them organized, but I do my best!

#hikaru eritora - my Karu tag!! Anything Hikaru related goes here 🪲

#leon writes - my writing tag! Here you can read my fics, oneshots, and anything else I write.

#leon rambles - this is primarily KNY analysis, but it’s also the occasional miscellaneous ramble! I love talking nonsense into the void <3

#leon askbox - anything that comes from my askbox!!

#leon says words - man im just talking lmao. professional yapper over here

#leon scribbles - my art tag! Here you can view my artwork :)

#not kny - exactly as it sounds! This tag is for anything on this blog explicitly unrelated to kny. It’s rare that I use it, but I like organization lol

#writing resources archive tag - this one’s mainly for me, but you’re welcome to poke through it! I keep my writing tips and tricks in here :)

MEET MY OCS!!

I have some various side characters, but my main and favorite oc, as well as the face of this page, is Hikaru Eritora! I plan to reveal more and more of his story over time, but if you want to know a synopsis of his story, you can find it here!

My Writings!

I am an amateur writer!! So far everything I’ve written has been for Karu, but who knows! I just like stories :)

Full Length Fics/Oneshots:

Blazing Heart’s Rhapsody

Irreplaceable

Don’t Let Go

Drabble/Warmups:

Nightmares

Unconventional

Mesmerized

Requiem of the Subconscious

Completed RP Thread Archive:

Brothers in Arms (with @definitelynotgideon)

OC Refs!!

Here’s Hikaru’s ref!! I absolutely adore any headcanons, asks, or other questions I get about him, so please feel free to shoot me some!! My inbox is always open!!

Thank you for reading, and for being on my page! Set your heart ablaze!!! ❤️‍🔥

#new pinned #hikaru eritora

[kidhawks]

i know it’s a little dumb but i’ve mentioned before that i don’t like shipping hawks (or anyone really but hawks especially) so i’d appreciate not being sent asks/receiving comments on my posts about shipping ^^ i know it’s a weird request i can’t expect everyone to fulfil so don’t worry about it too much! but yeah if it could be kept in mind i would be v grateful <3

#i’m semi interested in jin/hawks and shigs/hawks but honestly i find them much more interesting platonically anyway. #oh i should clarify i don’t mind asks like “’what are your thoughts on [ship]?’ but otherwise id rather not think abt shipping #it says in my bio i don’t have anything against shipping and i don’t really but i prefer for it to be kept... away from me lol #(reasons why i don’t go in the hawks ao3 tag anymore) #more cracky ships i find fun even if i don’t go for them myself but when people genuinely theorise abt hawks having canon romance i get so #🤢 uncomfy i kinda hate it... #i got a lot of ship tags blacklisted o o f #personal #honestly hawks is one of the most shipped characters i’ve ever been a fan of to the point that it’s actively difficult to find gen content #which is the norm for many fandoms but w hawks it’s INSANE #it’s like ppl assume that if ur a hawks fan ur either in the dabihwks/endhwks/self ship camp and i’m like NO NONE OF THOSE 😭 pls #so i’m a lil bit romance repulsed... what of it... mind ur business....

[pawfulsofmischief]

I know your bio says Jegulily but can you do Jegulus with “ wanna play some mario kart? it'll give us both a reason to cry when you beat me. “ If you don’t wanna do Jegulus any ship is fine really

Oh yeah, I'm all for Jegulus too! I'd have it in my bio too but I feel like it's already cramped lmao

--

The sitting room was quiet, aside from the annoying tick-tock of the analog clock on the wall and the soft sprinkling of rain against the large picture window that took up most of one wall. Dark clouds blotched out the night sky, casting errie shadows on the forest that surrounded the house and made it near impossible to see much beyond a few feet out the window. The only light illuminating the sitting room was the television that hung on the adjacent wall.

James was, as usual, sitting completely wrong on the couch. His legs hung over the back while his head hung upside down off the seat, staring at the television as it played some random documentary he'd landed on. He wasn't exactly paying attention, too worried about Regulus and Sirius who were both off having dinner with their parents. Why they'd agreed, James still couldn't understand, but they had. So James and Remus were staying at their respective homes, ready for when their significant others returned from the torment that was Walburga and Orion Black. Harry and Teddy had been dropped off with Lily and Pandora for the weekend to give the couples time to deal with whatever hell they had to handle.

The front door slammed open suddenly, shocking James enough to try and scramble up from the couch, only to go tumbling off it in his rush. He could hear Regulus's angry muttering as he worked his shoes and jacket off in the small entry alcove that hid the front door. James was barely on his feet again when Regulus was making his way out of the alcove and b-lining towards the kitchen.

Without a word, James hurried after him, his worry growing worse by the dark look on Regulus's face. James knew Regulus, he knew him like the back of his hand or the smell of his mother's famous chicken curry she would make every time he, or Sirius when he arrived, had a bad day. Regulus didn't often let his emotions show like this, but he especially tried to hide any negative emotions around his friends. So the dinner must've been horrid.

James watched as Regulus opened up their rarely touched cabinet of alcohol, where they kept their strong booze since they hardly ever drank at home. Both of them were much more social drinkers than anything and hardly ever got very drunk. He frowned as Regulus went for the bottle of bourbon, half drunken and an old wedding gift from Sirius and Remus.

"Jaan, what happened?" James asked, moving over to put a hand on Regulus's, stopping him mid motion before he could pull the stopper out with shaky hands. "This isn't like you."

Regulus let out a heavy breath, not meeting James's eyes. He didn't try to pull away though, nor did he fight for the bottle as James slipped it from his hands and set it down onto the marble counter with a soft clink. James watched as Regulus's throat bobbed, the way his breathing was a little irregular and the way he clenched his hands into fists when they had nothing in them. Carefully, James pulled Regulus, sliding his arms around Regulus's shoulders to draw him into his chest.

He melted. As soon as James had his arms around him, Regulus slumped into him and tightened his own arms around James's waist in an instant. His forehead pressed against James's collarbone, and James let his eyes close as he pressed a long, lingering kiss to the top of his head, ignoring the cold rain that still clung to him. A sob escaped Regulus after another moment of trying to hold it in. Not a sad or depressed one, but a sob of anger that went right to James's gut.

Neither spoke for a long few minutes as Regulus let himself finally go, shoulders shaking and tears mixing with rain that soaked into the collar of James's sweater. James gently rocked them ever so slightly side to side, running a hand up and down Regulus's back to try and soothe him. It took longer than usual to calm him down, to hear and feel the sobs lessen to soft sniffles and huffs.

"What happened, jaan?" James asked again when he knew Regulus would be able to answer, should he choose.

Regulus was quiet for another moment before letting out a slow, much more even breath. "I hate them," he said, so quiet and soft James would have missed it had they not been pressed together so tightly. They both knew Regulus hated the Blacks already, but Regulus also still had troubles expressing it. Going against the word of his parents even twenty fives years after he'd escaped their clutches at eighteen.

"I know," James said, running his fingers through the back of Regulus's hair. "We all do."

"They-" He huffed out an almost-growl, "they threatened to ruin our lives if one of us didn't rejoin the family properly. Not just ours, Sirius and mine, but everyone's. Harry and Teddy, You and Remus, even Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, and the others!"

Regulus scoffed and pulled back enough to run a hand over his face, keeping one still on James's waist as he did so. "Now that Sirius and I have made names for ourselves, they want to try and take the claim for all the work we've done. Like they've done anything."

"I can't imagine any of that went down well," James said, raising a brow slightly at Regulus.

"Not even slightly," Regulus rolled his eyes. They were a bit bloodshot, and the skin around them was puffy. His nose and cheeks were red, and his lips looked like they'd been chewed to bits. They likely were, with Regulus always biting at them when no one else was around. "They wouldn't even stop dead naming me or misgendering Sirius."

"Are you two alright? They headed back to Remus, right?"

Regulus nodded, letting his forehead fall back against James's collarbone. "They're with Remus now, they texted me when they got home. I texted them just before stepping into the house, so they know I'm alright too."

"Good," James murmured against the top of Regulus's head. "What did you two do? I expect neither of you accepted their terms?"

A loud, dry laugh escaped Regulus, who's hands tightened their hold on the back of James's sweater. "No. No, Sirius made sure I didn't cave. I'm a lawyer for fucks sake. I shouldn't be the one that's nearly threatened into folding."

James lifted a hand to Regulus's chin to lift his head so their eyes could lock. He gave him the sternest look he could, which was quite stern after nearly ten years of being a father. "Regulus, you are so, so strong, but they did everything they could to break you when they raised you. You didn't fully get rid of their influence until you were nearly twenty-three. Sirius was able to break their hold when they were sixteen, they don't have as much trauma as you do. Give yourself credit for being able to hold out at all."

Regulus sniffled again, though his eyes were dry now and he had that renewed spark of fire in his stormy grey eyes. James knew Regulus knew everything he was saying, that he'd gone to therapy long enough to accept and love himself even with everything that had happened. But there were days where Regulus still couldn't get out of bed, or he'd be terrified of seeing Sirius because he thought Sirius still hated. Times when James would have to pull Regulus to the side from wherever they were and talk him down from a panic attack and renew that knowledge that he was loved, that he had a whole new, big family that didn't want to hurt him like the Blacks did. Most of the time it was the stress of his job, being such a big name lawyer that saw some very tedious or dangerous jobs.

"I shouldn't have to rely on Sirius though," Regulus said, his voice low but not weak. "I should be able to stand up to them and call them on their bluff. Because that's all it is. They can't ruin our lives without destroying everything they have, because Lily and I are the best damn lawyers there are in this country."

James smiled at him, leaning down to press a kiss to Regulus's nose. "Exactly, you're brilliant, and you'd have absolutely flattened them if they'd tried. Just because you needed Sirius's help to stand up to them face to face doesn't mean you would have let them go through with their plan, whatever it was." Regulus huffed, grabbing the back of James's neck to pull him down for a proper kiss. James indulged him for a moment before pulling back to whisper, "I love you, through thick and thin."

Regulus hummed softly against James's lips, eyes still shut, "I love you too, you big softy."

Laughing lightly, James kissed him again, a bit harder. They swayed slightly as James leaned over Regulus, slipping an arm down to pull his waist closer to make him bend backwards. Regulus grabbed onto James's torso a bit harder to keep himself up, though James wasn't about to drop him, and the two pulled away laughing lightly.

"Now, let's get a drink, a small one," James said, giving Regulus a quick peck on the cheek as he detangled their limbs and turned to pull down a couple short glasses. "Would you like to play Mario Kart so we both have a reason to cry tonight, once you've thoroughly beaten me?"

Regulus laughed again, wrapping his arms around James's waist from behind while James poured them each a small bit of the bourbon. "I'm not crying anymore tonight, mon bonheur," he said, lips pressed against the back of James's neck, "but I will gladly destroy you in mario kart. Without Harry around I won't have to hold back at all."

Putting the bottle back in the cabinet, James turned around in Regulus's arms with a cheeky grin. "Now those are fighting worse, jaan," he laughed, running a hand through Regulus's still wet hair. "Maybe I'll finally manage to win a round tonight."

"Not likely," Regulus winked, snagging a drink from the counter while placing a kiss on James's cheek before smoothly sliding away without letting James retaliate. "You've never once beaten me."

"Stop cheating and I just might!" James replied, hurrying after Regulus with a glass in his own hand.

The smile on Regulus's lips and the laughter that bubbled up from him put James's nerves at ease. He loved to hear Regulus laugh and joke around, something that he only ever did in the company of those he called family. It meant that what happened at dinner wasn't nearly as bad as James had originally thought, and they could put off handling it until the next morning. For now, they had a score to settle.

James never did win a game against Regulus, but he was happily rewarded for loosing by Regulus snogging the daylights out of him.

send me a ship + prompt and I'll write a oneshot for it~

#jegulus #starchaser #wolfstar #james potter #regulus black #ficlet #i took a little leeway with the prompt line #but I think this works well enough #desi james potter #gn sirius black #trans regulus black #oh this only took an hour #i thought i'd been writing for longer lmao

[dottiechan]

ICEBREAKER Pt. 1

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Part 1 | Part 2&3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2389

Summary: Tech watches on helplessly as his brothers' affection for you threaten to ruin the squad.

Warnings: cursing, yearning

You’re just as cold on the inside as the ice is under your boots. It crunches with every step you take, and your heart seems to beat along with the fall of your boots, aching. You feel unsteady, almost enough to miss the tracks running in the snow right in front of you. You pause and crutch down, gloved fingers dipping into the indentations as you grumble to yourself. It’s not even your turn to scope out the area where you’re setting up camp, and besides, there is a literal tracking genius in your squad - it really shouldn’t be you who’s out here in the snow and ice, eyes straining against the blinding white of the planet, fingers freezing off as you set up perimeter alarms. And yet you just volunteered for the less than ideal task without explanation, not understanding your own decision either.

At least Tech offered to tag along, but you suspect he’s simply had enough of his brothers for a while. Not that you can blame him.

“Fascinating.”

You sigh, internally begging him to stop talking as you stand, abandoning the tracks after deciding they most likely belong to a lone whitefang. You have enough on your plate right now, with Hunter still being pissy and Crosshair avoiding you like the plague, and silence would be much more preferable right now to listening to one of Tech’s rambles.

“Did you know that this moon’s surface is almost entirely composed of water?”

“No.”

“Despite the subzero surface temperature, there are subsurface oceans underneath the ice that are warmed by the moon’s internal heat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wish we could stay long enough for me to study the subsurface flora and fauna. There might be plants underneath the ice that-”

“Tech.”

“-that use chemosynthesis-”

“Tech!”

“What?”

He has the decency to look flustered, one hand gripping the datapad tightly, the other flying up to adjust his goggles as he peers up at you. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes, the confinement of the Marauder is enough to turn you into a ticking time bomb, irritated by the slightest seemingly innocent things. And you’ve had more than just mere sparks to flare your temper as of late.

...

His rifle is spotless, and yet he’s still scrubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, because if he jumps up and lowers his guard for a second, he’s out the ship and off to find you and Tech. Maybe you’re a fool sometimes, a god damn nuisance, a person he still couldn’t grow used to, but you belong with them now, you’re theirs, you’re his, and that means something to him. You frustrate him beyond reason, and he often grows callous and agitated because he refuses to allow himself to feel the emotions you elicit from him whenever you’re near him.

Even now, on an ice planet, the mere thought of you infects him with a sweet, sweet jungle fever that knocks him off his feet.

And he’s supposed to be angry now, Crosshair reminds himself. After all, you almost gotten yourself killed on Bracca, and almost broke him in the process.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Hunter grumbles as he paces up and down like a caged nexu craving to run free. But lately Crosshair began to suspect that he craves something else, someone else, and the thought has his throat tightening in jealousy. He’s been watching, and he convinced himself that he’d misread the signs until he saw the same agitation reflect in his brother’s eyes that he himself has to wrestle with every day.

If it ever came down to your choice, he knows he wouldn’t be it, and he hates living with this knowledge.

Hunter has all the things you seem to like - unlimited kindness, longing looks, smirks that turn a little too soft when directed at you, broad shoulders he caught you staring at more times than he can count. Deep down, he’s still hoping it will never come to you having to choose, but it’s impossible not to wish to be in the centre of your attention. You drive him insane, but you also make him want to commit and stop fighting and lay down his weapons for once in his god damn life.

“Relax. They’re probably fine.”

The screen to their left lights up, and Hunter rushes across the ship in long strides before exhaling in relief. “The proximity alarms are online. They should be heading back soon.”

Crosshair sucks in a breath, worried about seeing his own emotions sitting behind Hunter’s eyes as well.

...

You were assigned to assist the Bad Batch for an unspecified period of time some months ago. You’re a versatile field agent, specialising in both stealth and combat casualty care, one of the few volunteers who were qualified enough to join the GAR. Oh, and you’re also clearly mistrusted by your new squad as they flip out the very moment you risk yourself in the line of duty. You’re not stupid, you weighed the risks carefully, and you trusted your abilities to see you through the job unharmed.

But ever since the incident on Bracca, you’re given the cold shoulder by most on the squad, and for once, the scenery matches your mood.

And yet Tech deserves better than to be cut off like that. He deserves to be listened to, and appreciated as the good man he is. You’re friends, but in moments like these, you think you don’t deserve his friendship.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry, okay? But right now, I have too much on my mind to think about, umm, chemo...”

“Chemosynthesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I understand,” he nods, satisfied with your half-assed apology for the time being as he goes back to scanning the vast icy desert stretching as far as the eye can see. The Marauder’s lights blink in the background, orange against the dark blue of the growing darkness that surrounds you. It’s like a beacon, a sign that promises warmth, and you gaze at it longingly until you remember that you’ll have to go back to Crosshair’s scowl and Hunter’s disapproving frown and Wrecker’s awkward little smiles. Somehow, the ice is preferable once more, and the snow that just began to fall in soft flakes is little more than a mild annoyance.

“Well, aside from a few distant life forms-”

“Whitefangs.”

“Yes, most likely whitefangs - aside from those, we should be quite safe inside the ship for tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “You might be. I’m not the most popular with the squad right now, remember?”

“You are a valued addition,” Tech declares, and the certainty in his voice releases inside you the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch. All you can do is stand, and fight the sting of tears in your eyes. You’re confident, but you never in your wildest dreams imagined how difficult it would be to live up to the expectations of a special unit. You also know your worth, but it’s hard to keep on believing in yourself steadfastly when the rest of your squad doubts your every move. “Which is why the prospect of losing you elicits a rather severe emotional reaction in us. It is rare for regs to warm up to us as well as you have, let alone volunteers. Aside from the obvious tactical disadvantage losing you would mean, I believe it is a little more personal than that.”

...

Hunter knows something is off even before one of the alarms is triggered - whatever it is, it is within five clicks of the ship, making you and Tech plenty exposed before he could do anything. He was straining his ear simply to keep you all safe - so what if he accidentally heard your muffled voice, or the soft crunch of snow underneath your boots?

But now is not the time to be idle, and he knows it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his squad. And to you, he corrects himself almost softly as he grabs his helmet and checks his weapons quickly. Despite the fact that he’s still angry about your previous carelessness, he cannot deny the forbidden yearning coiling in his stomach whenever you’re on his mind, making him just as nervous as hopeful. And to be fair, it happens more and more often as of late, which is both alarming and exciting as he never thought he’d ever have the luxury to feel this way about someone else. Sure, he knows love, he loves his brothers with all his heart even if he isn’t very vocal about it, but this is different. New, scary, exciting different, an effervescent and persevering tingling blinding all his senses.

Crosshair is beside him in less than a second, rifle in hand, silent, and they share a nod before lowering the ramp and rushing out into the freezing dusk.

When he picks up on your muffled voice, he seems to ignore everything as he breaks into a sprint towards you, hoping to reach you in time before you’re in danger. He almost misses the way Crosshair’s heartbeat picks up, the usually stoic man reeking with genuine worry as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

He can deal with this later, Hunter promises himself as he pushes down this uncomfortable feeling. But then he sees you and Tech, and he seems to forget about anything and everything - you have that unfortunate and awfully distracting effect on him.

...

“But Hunter yelled at me for being reckless for a solid hour. And Crosshair said he didn’t care if I wanted to get myself killed, but I should do it in a way that didn’t interfere with the mission. Seriously, what an asshole.”

“Nevermind what they actually say,” Tech waves his hand in mild annoyance. “Hunter was worried sick. Crosshair almost went after you. And they’re both too pigheaded to admit the real reason why they’re so worked up.”

“Which is?”

“Obviously they both view you as a potential romantic partner.”

There’s a moment of pause as you two stare back at one another before you snort and chuckle, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest as a futile attempt at staying warm. “Tech, you need to work on your sense of humour.”

“And you need to work on your observational skills and situational awareness.”

“My observational skills are exceptional,” you defend yourself, a finger held up in the air defiantly. “And my situational awareness is-”

“Lacking, as you didn’t seem to notice the whitefang return. I suggest we head back to the safety of the Marauder.”

Sure enough, the wild cat is there lurking amongst the ice dunes, its eyes glowing in the dark as they reflect the light of the ship. It shouldn’t pose a threat to you as it is alone, and relatively small, but you still consider wrestling with it instead of returning to the ship and facing the rest of the squad - somehow, even that feels like a fight more fair than the ones that await you upon your return. So you hold its gaze as it curiously inspects you, wishing to swap bodies and run away and avoid any more conflict. Before you can even think of returning to the ship, you hear quiet footsteps catching up to you.

“I thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably more curious than anything.”

Hunter unsheaths his vibroblade and twirls it in his hand so theatrically it makes you roll your eyes. He glances at you, shoulders all tense, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of danger, and even though his face is obscured by his helmet, you can almost see the disappointed frown sitting on his features. “You want to test that theory?”

“My money would be on the whitefang winning.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

“Any time.”

“Relax.” The distorted rasp of your commlink is not enough to drown out the smugness of the sniper. The stand-off ends when a single well-placed shot right before the big cat sends it sprinting away into the darkness. You all turn to find Crosshair standing by the ship, his rifle still aimed at the retreating form of the whitefang.

“Well, there goes my opportunity to finally have an interesting patrol,” you mutter to yourself as you all make it back to the Marauder.

“Do all of your patrols end in you staring down carnivores?” Crosshair snorts, clearly unamused.

“Only the good ones,” you fire back, deciding not to wait for any of them as you head inside. Crosshair is hot on your heels, another string of mockery sitting on the tip of his tongue, because fuck, you’re stubborn, but he’s not going to cave in and tell you how it makes him feel to see you in danger. He can’t, however, put up with being away from you either.

Hunter lingers a little outside. He has to set himself straight, to contain all the things he wants to say you that have nothing to do with scolding you about Bracca, to kill all the feelings that suddenly demand to be felt so desperately. He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, pretending to survey the surroundings of the Marauder. Tech moves in the periphery of his vision, but instead of following you and Crosshair, he steps closer to Hunter.

“I believe the threat’s been averted.”

“Yeah. Good job on setting up those alarms, Tech.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. You should head back inside. The last thing I want is for you to keel over with hypothermia.”

“That’s not how hypothermia works,” Tech mutters, his voice trailing off, eyes uncertain behind his goggles. He suddenly places a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder, making the sergeant glance at him.

“Hunter, I’m only asking this because I care about you all, but... how long do you think this can go on before one of you gets hurt?”

Tech’s words echo in his mind long after he’s rejoined the squad on the ship. And Hunter just stands outside in the snowfall, watching the last rays of light disappear on the horizon, wondering which one of you he’ll have to hurt when the push comes to shove.

#dottiechan writes #hunter x reader x crosshair #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #star wars #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader

[babybluebex]

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello  ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky​ for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.” 

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue. 

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.” 

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.” 

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.” 

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.” 

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.” 

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.” 

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled. 

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting. 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.” 

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you. 

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked. 

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?” 

“Anything,” you agreed. 

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.” 

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.” 

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.” 

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him. 

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?” 

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?” 

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!” 

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.” 

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?” 

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.” 

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?” 

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed. 

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged. 

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.” 

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked. 

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!” 

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…” you started. “Just come here, James.” 

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.” 

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.” 

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.” 

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly. 

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.” 

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.” 

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!” 

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.” 

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.” 

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?” 

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.” 

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.” 

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you. 

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. 

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.” 

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.” 

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed. 

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away. 

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?” 

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach. 

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…” 

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words. 

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?” 

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.” 

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?” 

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--” 

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?” 

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?” 

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered. 

“We?” Steve asked. 

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.” 

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you. 

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.” 

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off. 

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.” 

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.” 

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.” 

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm. 

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.” 

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.” 

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.” 

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.” 

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.” 

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.” 

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked. 

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform. 

“Or baking,” Steve added. 

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled. 

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.” 

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped. 

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled. 

“Punk.” 

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!” 

And they were gone. 

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles. 

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.” 

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?” 

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there. 

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?” 

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.” 

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?” 

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.” 

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?” 

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.” 

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered. 

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked. 

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.” 

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.” 

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.” 

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.” 

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” 

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered. 

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked. 

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #avengers #marvel #angst

[ingravinoveritas]

Gotta say it’s rich coming from a faction of fans who ship two (asfaik) straight male actors (obviously friends who are secure enough to have fun playing up their chemistry) to begrudge a wife an “overshare” lol. You write explicit fics about real people, you live in a fantasy world and have an obvious confirmation bias when it comes to their RL partners!Don't you think you need to check your sense of reality from time to time lol?And may be not post your delusions in general tags?Just a thought

Wow, Anon...you’ve somehow managed to boil a complex thought/discussion down to its simplest possible form, which is...scarily impressive, really.

But I can tell you haven’t read a single word of my blog other than the post you saw in the tag earlier today. Because if you had, you would realize a few things, one of which is that everything I write/analyze/answer contains references and receipts to back up my assertions. The posts I have made about shipping Michael and David are based almost entirely on things they have put out there (quotes, pictures, interviews, videos etc.) over the past three years, and I have gone out of my way to include links to those things wherever possible. 

It’s funny to see folks like you referring to those of us who ship Michael and David as “delusional,” especially since you gave away the breadth of your knowledge with the “(asfaik) straight male actors” in your first sentence. If you were actually interested in the truth and not just coming here to read me to filth, you would know that Michael has talked openly and at length about his same-sex attractions on previous occasions.

Also, Kate Beckinsale, Michael’s ex-girlfriend and the mother of his older daughter, has recently gone on record as saying that Michael had a crush on Jude Law back in the Wilde days. All told, Kate and Michael were together for nearly a decade, and have known each other a lot longer than that. So is she delusional, too?

There’s one more thing you would’ve noticed if you had read my blog, Anon. Time and time again, I have said that I am not entirely convinced that something has happened between Michael and David. I think it is highly plausible, but I have and will always leave room for the possibility that they are, indeed, purely platonic. Yet you come into my Ask box with your big, brass virtual cojones so completely convinced that you are right and I am wrong, entirely unwilling to even consider that Michael and David could be something other than straight and just friends.    

People tell us who they are in all sorts of ways that aren’t listed on an IMDb bio  page. They tell us just by being who they are. Michael Sheen in particular is not a subtle man, and has never hidden who he is. David might be more subtle in comparison to Michael (then again, so is a house fire), but being less vocal doesn’t mean that he feels less strongly about who he is.

But honestly, even if he or David did say something outright, I don’t think you would believe either of them. At this point, Michael could post a picture on Twitter where he is fully clothed and David is naked and straddling his lap, back to the mirror as Michael faces forward, David’s knees on either side of his body, head in profile just enough for us to see them smiling at each other, Michael gazing at David’s lips, one hand holding up the phone, the other resting just above the barely visible curve of David’s arse, gently but firmly pressing him flush against his chest...and people still would see only what they want to see.

(But I’ll bet you anything if we were talking about a man and a woman instead of two men, this discussion wouldn’t even be happening.)

Yes, I have read and written RPF about Michael and David. Yes, I have made my blog a safe space for people to talk about it, and about the things that so many seem to notice or wonder about but are too afraid to mention because of people like you. I know exactly who I am, Anon...and it’s not someone who has nothing better to do than go onto other people’s blogs to send hate.

I need to check my “sense of reality”? Maybe you should be checking yours...  

#anonymous #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the fact that i even gotta respond to this #got a bunch of anons on today's events which i will be answering shortly #i think Michael has been telling us exactly who he is for a long time now #david is definitely more subtle than michael #but he knows how to speak volumes without saying a word #people used to think Elton John was straight ffs #i'm just saying #david is lowkey bi and michael is highkey bi #let men be in love 2k22 #also i'm going to need to see the picture i just described #for science #yes #ineffable lovers #discourse

[lexacoolfox]

I saw your bio about angel of death too!! May i request nagito X s/o who's like zack!!:D I hope i don't bothering you and have a nice day^^♡♡

Yes finally! Also your not bothering me, and thank you for wishing me a nice day! Your such a sweet heart adelia-Chan!

Nagito with a S/O like Zack!

Now it is modern time, you probably aren’t a murder but you can be, um…problematic.

You liked to beat people up when the looked to happy or mad. It made you feel good.

You obviously laughed like a mentally insane person when you did.

Now on the first day of school you saw a boy with white hair looking way to happy, he looked like a good target.

He noticed you right away and introduced himself with that smile, he sounded so joyful while doing it. That just made you want beat him up even more.

“Hello I’m Nagito Komeada!”

“Hey Komeada. I’m S/O. You got three seconds to run.”

The last part you said with a dark tone. He looked at you confused.

“Um…why would I need to run?”

“Cause you look way to frickin happy, makes me want to beat you up! I like to give people a fair chance to try to run away. As long you beg or scream for me not to hurt you to bad! I love seeing fear on my victims faces! Gets my blood bumping!”

He softly chuckled.

“Oh I’m not going to run away. I’ll let you do it. Come hit me! An ultimate like you hitting trash like me is an honor!”

You stumbled back and leaned by a nearby trash can and threw up.

“Man is something wrong with you. That’s the most messed up thing I’ve ever heard. You not running away or begging for your life. it makes it no fun. See ya later weirdo, I going to class I guess.”

Unfortunately (or fortunately) you both had the same class.

So you really couldn’t escape him, you had to listen to him insult himself and his thing on hope. Which kinda annoyed you.

You interested him and he wanted to get to know you. Like what your hobbies, your goals, or why do you like to beat up people who look happy.

“Is there a reason why your following me like a lost puppy?”

“Your interest me. Just pretend I’m not here.”

You saw a group of girls. They were laughing at another girl. They poured milk on her and laughed even louder. This brought back a memory from your childhood. A very bad memory.

You feel into a rage. You ran and proceeded to beat these girls to the point where they were knocked out. You turned to the girl who they were bullying you held out a hand for her to grab. You helped her getting up, patted her head then walked away.

Nagito followed close behind. You forgot he was following you. You went somewhere quite with a low chance of other students walking by. Then you grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall.

“You better not tell anyone about anything you saw! Or else your gonna end up worse then those girls!”

“Oh I was never going to tell anyone anyway!”

“You better not be lying! I hate liars more than anything!”

“I’m not lying.”

You looked at him in the eyes. He was completely honest. You let him go.

“I thought it was kinda cool to see you standing up for that girl.”

“I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it cause it reminded me of something. Something I’d rather forget.”

“Even though, your speed and strength was amazing to see in action. You also held such passion in your eyes.”

You started angry mumbling not because he was annoying you but your were honestly embarrassed, you weren’t used to hearing much praise.

One day your class decided to have a party, you don’t know how they convinced you. But they did, you didn’t listen to the details just the time and place.

The party was a bonfire party.

Once you arrived you were the last one to arrive, they started off the fire. To where you started internally freaking out. Also frozen in fear.

At some point you were escaped into the back of the woods, Nagito noticed and went to follow you. He heard you near by. You found you punching a tree while yelling. You hade to stop cause of your hands

You wore bandages all over hands, shoulder, arms, and up your back a little, from a incident from a long time ago. You heard a twig snap.

“Who’s there! Show yourself!”

“Oops looks like I’ve been spotted.”

“Ugh! What’s with you and following me!”

“Well I noticed you left the party. I just wanted to know why.

He said sitting on a tree stump. You lean against a tree.

“Don’t tell anyone this. But. I’m scared of fire.”

“Oh. Well, how about we go to a near by gas station. We can get some snacks!”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry I’ll pay.”

You weren’t saying no to free food. You guys got a couple of snacks and went to a nearby park to sit on a bench.

You actually had a nice conversation with Nagito. You actually were laughing a lot. For the first time ever somebody smile didn’t want to make you beat them up. Nagito smile made you smile.

You developed a crush on Nagito.

You treated him different from then on.

No threats were thrown his way from you. You didn’t mind when he talked to you. Anytime somebody gave him a nasty look for saying something. You punch your hand against your palm as a sign. You often lean against him when he talks to somebody. Anytime he says an insult to himself, you put him in a headlock and start giving him noogies while saying “why do you keep saying that! Do you got some screws loose Huh?!” You could say it’s tough love. Everbody knew you had a crush on Nagito. But you were to dense to notice your own feelings and Nagito was to oblivious to notice your change in behavior. Surprisingly you and fuyuhiko had a kinda Frenemy thing going on. You two acted like you hate each other, which you do. but you two had a lot in common so sometimes you got along. He’s the one to point out your feelings

“When you going to tell Nagito you like him?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s so obvious you have a crush on him. Which is kinda weird.”

“What’s a crush?”

He gave you a shock looked. Then called you an idiot. He explained a crush and then it made sense to you.

“So…how do I tell him.”

“Just tell him. Unless your a chicken.”

“Shut up! I’m not a chicken! I’ll go tell him right now!”

You stomped away looking for Nagito to tell him. You found him being Ganged up by some guys. You beat all of them up. Some puked from your punches, some passed out, some ran away. You picked up Nagito and threw him over his shoulder and started walking away with him.

“Um s/o can you let me down? I can walk on my own.”

“No.”

You went back to your place and threw him on your couch.

“Thanks for saving me back there. I didn’t think you would save me like that.”

You flicked him in the forehead.

“Of course I saved you. I love you dummy.”

He blushed at the sudden confession.

“I love you too.”

You blushed and pulled him to your chest. You cuddle him, so you guys are now a couple.

Here somethings you do now your a couple

You are always touching him in someway, simple hand hold, hugging, leaning against him, just anything works.

Your like his own personal bodyguard.

He helps you with your bandages when you need to change them.

He comforts you when there’s fire.

You give him random small kisses.

Everybody and anybody is too scared to flirt with Nagito.

When you two are anywhere like a booth at a restaurant. You have you arm wrapped around Nagito shoulder.

After a long time. You told him things about your childhood, which he understood and helped you deal with your trauma.

Bonus: for this to make sense. I ship fuyuhiko and Peko.

You noticed how fuyuhiko acted around peko. You and Nagito decided to play match maker.

Nagito invited fuyuhiko to a cafe to hangout. While you did the same with peko.

They arrived at the cafe both texting you asking where you were. Both of you texted something came up with your significant other so you couldn’t make it. They spotted each other and decided to hangout. Just according to plan. you and Nagito where wearing disguises to watch them. Nagito went up to their waiter after he took their order, saying he’ll pay for them.

When they learned that somebody payed for them and the waiter pointed who. They realized it was you two. You practically grab Nagito and made a mad dash for the exit.

Later that night you got to listen to a mad fuyuhiko, while receiving passive aggressive text from peko.

“Why you so mad? I’m just helping you out. I mean you helped me and Nagito get together. I’m just returning the favor.”

“What?! Are you implying I have a crush on peko! What gave off that idea?!”

“A lot of things gave off that idea. C’mon you like her. Don’t be a chicken.”

“I hate you!”

“The feelings mutual. Just go for it.”

“You don’t tell me what to do-“

You hung up. You put your phone on silent and went to sleep. Luckily it was Friday so you didn’t have school the next day. So they couldn’t bother you about it.

#anime #s/o x danganronpa characters #danganronpa x you #drv2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa 2 #nagito komeada x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komeada #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #peko pekoyama #angels of death #zack foster

[reidingandwriting]

"Deja Vu"

Word Count: ~2300 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (ex/platonic?), Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Warnings: A curse word or two, slightly OOC moments but it is fan-fiction so :)

A/N: I'm in love with this song and had to write this. Popped this baby out in 3 hours, and I'm pretty happy with it. Side note: I created my own timeline for this lmao. Morgan exists, but they don't live in the cabin. Reader is mentioned to be fem once or twice, but reads neutral besides that! Reader is Tony's kid but it could be read as adopted/his bio kid.

“One strawberry ice cream, just for you.” Peter said as he set the cup down in front of MJ, a single spoon dipped in the light pink dessert. MJ immediately started to eat as Peter took a seat beside her, and you and Ned were seated across from the couple at a local ice cream shop you had discovered. The one where you had taken him, where you had convinced him to try the strawberry ice cream instead of the vanilla he always got. You scooped a spoonful of your rocky road ice cream a little too aggressively, unable to eat your favorite ice cream flavor anymore.

“Thanks, Parker, it’s really good.” MJ said and Peter nudged her shoulder.

“Mind if I steal a bite?’

“Of course I mind.” MJ deadpanned and Peter blanched before MJ smirked at him. “Go ahead, loser. Just one.” MJ gave him a look and Peter saluted.

“Scout’s honor.” Peter took MJ’s spoon before he took a bite, and you barely held back the scowl as you looked over at Ned. He gave you a sympathetic smile and tapped his foot against yours under the safety of the booth. You brushed your shoulder against Ned’s while Peter and MJ were too entranced by each other to notice.

“If you get any ice cream on my jacket, I’m burning yours.” MJ’s words were menacing, but you all knew she was (mostly) kidding. Peter scoffed and held his hand against his chest in mock offense, the sleeves of MJ’s jean jacket comedically too short on Peter’s arms. MJ was dressed in Peter’s Midtown hoodie, the same one you had worn just a few months ago.

You thought it would have been funny to switch jackets, knowing your jacket would look funny on him, while you wore Peter’s oversized hoodie. And now here was MJ, wearing the same sweatshirt, while Peter wore her jacket. Have any original ideas, Parker?

“Earth to Y/N.” MJ waved her hand in your face, and you snapped back to the present. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, sorry. Morgan decided she wanted a sleepover last night, so we just had to build a pillow fort in my room, and that felt fantastic on my back. Almost as great as her practically laying on top of me all night.” You chuckled. “And you know I couldn’t move her, she’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“And she knows it.” Peter said and you smiled over at him.

“Speaking of Morgan. She’s been asking me all week about if you want to come over sometime this weekend. She’s in a big Lion King phase, and she wants ‘her Petey’ to come have a pajama party with her and have a sing-along. She’s Nala, of course.” Ned snorted and Peter’s face fell.

“I can’t this weekend. MJ and I are having a Glee watch party this weekend, can you believe she’s never seen Glee?” Peter asked and you felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach.

“Oh, really?” You asked. Much like you hadn’t seen it either, until six months ago. “It’s pretty iconic, but also the worst show ever. Singing along is pretty fun, just being annoying. Really fun.” You thought back to when you and Peter were in your room, doing the same thing.

“Don’t stop believing!” Peter stood on your bed, using the remote as a microphone to serenade you. Peter looked at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes before singing the next line, just as enthusiastically as he did.

“Hold on to the feeling!” Peter cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re so annoying, Parker.”

“As annoying as this show?”

“Almost.”

“Then I’m not quite done yet.”

“Raincheck next weekend, maybe?” Peter asked and you shrugged.

“I’ll have to check with Madame Secretary. She’ll likely be over The Lion King by next weekend, it’ll be ‘baby stuff.’” Your phone buzzed and you excused yourself before checking the text.

Iron Dad: Hey, kid. Are you busy?

You: A little. Why?

Iron Dad: Pep and I have an emergency meeting for work, and Happy’s sick so he can’t watch Maguna

You: I’m on my way. Give me five to say goodbye

Iron Dad: Thanks, Y/N/N. We owe you one

You: You owe me several. Love you

Iron Dad: Love you tons

“I’m sorry, guys, duty calls.” You smiled, albeit a little sadly, at your friends. “I’ll see you Monday at school?”

“We better. We have a project in chemistry due on Monday.” Ned said and you flipped him off.

“Science is my best class, you know I’ve had the project done and Dr. Banner approved since the project was announced in class.” You winked at Ned before waving at MJ and Peter. “See you later, lovebirds.” You internally cringed when ‘lovebirds’ came out more bitter than you intended. With goodbyes exchanged, you left the ice cream parlor, and you bit back the tears you felt beginning to build up. Did he feel it, too? Did he remember that you did that, too? Was he ever going to tell her all the ‘unique’ things Peter’s done were reused, that you had found them first? You wiped at your eyes before you hailed a taxi, and you shoved all your feelings down to be at your best for your little sister.

--

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Morgan barreled down the hall when you stepped out of the elevator, and you barely bent down to catch her in time as she collided with you.

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan!” You scooped your sister up into your arms and peppered her face with kisses until she was laughing, and your mood immediately lifted at the sound. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Mom’s at work, Dad’s in his room. He’s leaving us.” Morgan pouted and you copied her expression.

“Oh, no. You’re stuck with me tonight. Too bad I’m not tall enough to reach the juice pops in the freezer.” You gasped. “Oh, wait. I am!” Morgan thrusted her fist into the air with a cheer, and you set her down. “I need to go talk to Dad real quick, then we can do almost whatever you want.” You emphasized the almost, knowing she’d ask for something you definitely shouldn’t do, then argue that you said ‘anything.’ You definitely saw a career in law for her when she got older.

“Kay-kay. I’ll go get coloring books, then we get juice pops?”

“Deal.” You offered your pinky out, and she linked pinkies with yours before she ran off to her room. You shook your head fondly before you walked off to your dad’s room, and you knocked on his door before coming in. “Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo. Come on in, I’m just packing a few things for Pep.” You walked over to the bag your dad had packed, and you began to inspect everything. “Have I been approved?”

“I think I need a hug before giving approval.” You opened your arms and your dad happily pulled you into his chest, and he held you close, as if he could sense your feelings.

“Are you okay? Do I need to stay?” Tony rubbed your back and rocked you gently, and you buried your face deeper into his chest, your eyes watering and you gripped his shirt tighter, a habit you developed when Tony first took you in- you always grabbed onto him like he was your security blanket, and Tony quickly learned there was no use in getting you to let go until you were ready.

“No, I’m okay.” Your voice was muffled but you made no effort to move yet. “Mom needs you.” You paused. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Luckily we’re just headed to the New York headquarters. I hope we’re home by midnight, but I’ll tell you when we find out for sure.” You nodded and let go of your dad, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, and he wiped your tears away with his thumb and the action almost made you cry again. “Ben and Jerry’s and sad movies when I get back, or should I get a few punching bags set up in the gym?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.” Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you patted his arm, telling him he could continue packing. “ Don’t forget Mom’s favorite lipstick. She always keeps one on her, but you can never be too safe.”

“Lifesaver.” Tony said before he went back to packing.

“I should go check on Morgan, let you finish getting packed.” You said and Tony smiled at you, a softness in his eyes reserved solely for you, Morgan, and Pepper.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best big sister?”

“I do my best.” You smile back before leaving. Fingers crossed she hadn’t made a mess already.

--

You laid in bed, scrolling through your camera roll with tears streaming down your cheeks. You pressed play on a video and let out a choked sob as you watched. You and Peter were seated at the piano in the living room, and your fingers moved gracefully across the keys, playing one of your favorite songs that Peter had begged you to play for him. The familiar sounds of Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ filled your ears, and you sang along as you played. You turned to Peter, nodded at him, and he began to play the same song after you. You hugged him at the end of the song, grinning since he had finally learned it, and you began to play it again, Peter joining you in singing along. Not even that was reserved for you and him anymore, as you had learned recently.

“I didn’t know you played.” You said as MJ took a seat at the piano, Peter seated beside her.

“Oh, I just learned. Peter taught me the one song he knows how to play.” Your heart sank and now Ned was curious.

“What song?” Don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Uptown Girl.” MJ began to play, and you felt your lip begin to tremble. Your song. The one you had taught him. You looked away as Peter quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek after the first chorus, and he whispered something into her ear. You turned to Ned and dove deep into a conversation, refusing to cry in front of them.

You jumped when you heard a knock on your window, and you grabbed the baseball bat you kept by your bed. You would have called for Bucky or Sam, but the pair were off on their own mission. You got out of bed, wiping away your tears, and you walked to the window, bat at the ready. “FRIDAY, who’s getting knocked to next year with my bat?”

“It appears Peter Parker is the one outside your window.” Peter? Of course it was.

“Lights on dim, FRI.” You set the bat down and opened the window, and Peter popped into view. “Peter? What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack, dude.”

“I’m sorry, I know, sorry. I didn’t plan on coming out here, but I needed to talk to you.” You gestured for Peter to come in, and you suddenly realized how you had to look to him. You were in a shirt you had stolen from Thor- what? His shirt got mixed up with yours, finders keepers. You were in an old pair of sweatpants that were covered in various stains- paint from Morgan, some grease from Tony’s lab, and a bleach mark from where you and Peter were goofing around in the lab and you spilled some mystery chemical on your pants. And let’s not even talk about your puffy eyes and the tear marks on your cheeks from a night of crying.

“About what?” You sat on your bed, eyes not meeting Peter’s.

“About earlier at the ice cream parlor. You seemed really… spaced out. Not yourself. And I caught you scowling once.”

“I didn’t scowl.” You tried to defend yourself but you sighed, knowing he was right.

“And ever since MJ and I started dating, you’ve just seemed different. You’re not, like, jealous, are you?” And you couldn’t help but laugh. Truly laugh, which caused Peter’s brows to furrow. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I’m jealous! Why should I be jealous?” Peter frowned at how you weren’t taking him seriously, and he was confused.

“You know, we had… a thing. Not that we dated, but I mean, we were really close you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Like a switch, your emotions flipped from sad to frustrated in seconds. “And I’m seeing all these ‘things’ we had all over again.” It was Peter’s turn to start getting irritated, and he crossed his arms.

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Strawberry ice cream at the parlor, you can’t act like we didn’t do that. Trading jackets, we did that shit too. Teaching her piano when I taught you, how do you not get deja vu?” Peter opened his mouth to talk and you held your hand up. “You’ve got a different girl, but there’s nothing new. I discovered those places you take her, I showed you Glee, I taught you the jokes that you tell to her. When are you gonna tell her? She thinks it’s special, but it’s all reused. I know I get deja vu, don’t you?” You had started to cry again, and Peter started to defend himself until FRIDAY spoke.

“Y/N, your father and mother have returned home. You may want to continue this conversation later.” You looked at Peter who wordlessly nodded. He walked to the window, and he paused before he spoke.

“We’ll talk Monday after patrol. Bye, Y/N/N.” You whispered goodbye before he left and you shut the window before you dropped to your knees, letting out broken sobs.

“I get deja vu when she’s with you…”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x mj #peter parker x michelle jones #ned leeds #michelle jones #spideychelle #tony stark x daughter!reader #stark!daughter #stark!reader #fem!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #morgan stark #pepper potts #pepperony #tony stark is a good dad #proof that tony stark has a heart #the avengers #mcu #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fanfic #avengers family #avengers au

[echoalyssa]

Hi! I wanted to ask you if you could rewrite the Cheating Chase request a made a little time ago but with Jaden with the reader being famous just like him and the whole situation havin' an impact on internet and with their (shared) friends or you could write a part 2 for Cheating Chase request but only if it's not gonna bother you in any way...

❤Thank you!❤I LOVE YOUR WRINTTING❤

Warnings: Some naughty time is inferred in this!

Jaden’s music is pounding through his surround sound speaker system. He’s throwing another party. One of his signatures. Bryce is chanting “Shots shots shots!”

Jaden’s busy making out with his girl. He’s got her pressed against a wall.

“Wanna ditch my own party?” He murmurs into her ear. 

She giggles and begins to lead his girlfriend to his bedroom. A girl bumps into his shoulder hard but he barely notices, just continues steering his girlfriend to his room.

When they’re done and getting dressed he wonders where his phone has gone. It had been in his back pocket before...

A knock on the door startles him. It’s the girl who had bumped into him earlier. At least he thinks it was. He’s really not sure. He doesn't look at anyone who isn't his girl.

“You dropped this. Bryce said you were up here.”

Jaden vaguely notes her creepy smile but quickly forgets once his phone is back and his girl calls for him.

~~~ You’re barely home from Jaden’s party when your phone begins to blow up. IT vibrates almost continually, calls and texts filling up the screen. All want you to check Jaden’s instagram.

You plop down on the couch and answer the call from Mads, your best friend.

“Have you checked!?” She shrieks, loud enough that you have to take the phone off of speaker-phone for a second.

“I’m checking now! But what can possibly be so urg-”

No. This can’t be right... it can’t... there, one of his most recent posts, theres no way.

It’s a set of nudes, captioned ‘my beautiful baby girl’ with a kissy face emoji. Except.. those aren't your nudes which means... not that you'd want your nudes posted but...

Mads, taking your silence as an answer whispers, “Y/N I am so sorry.”

You can't speak, your fingers go numb. Your phone falls from your grip and clatters as it hits the floor and bounces.

Mads is speaking but you can't hear her. Your heart feels like its beating a mile a minute.

There had to be some sort of explanation, if you just called him he would be able to clear this up. Right? Right!?

So you pick up your phone, Mads is saying that she’ll make the friend group unfollow him. You excuse yourself, hang up, and dial Jaden. It rings, and rings, and rings, Then, “Hey it’s Jaden. Hit me up later!”

You try again. And again. And again. You get his voicemail every time.

Somehow you’re all the emotions at once. You pull up his instagram, and this time your notice your name is no longer in his bio the way it had been for so long.

‘That’s it.’ You think. 

You unfollow him on instagram, remove his name from your own bio, and delete all the pictures of the two of you together. 

Then you go to Snapchat and un-add him. His contact gets deleted, you unfollow him on twitter and delete his face from your camera roll. 

Satisfied as you can be, you fall into bed and let the tears come.

~~~

By the early afternoon of the next day the gossip is at full roar. You venture on to youtube, and right there, the first video you see is by ‘annaoop’ who is almost the most well known gossip youtube channel focusing on tiktokers.

‘Jaden Hossler cheats on Y/N L/N’ the title reads. Something within you compels you to click on it. 

Her voice rings, talking about ‘tea’. She shows the censored versions of the pictures from his instagram. They’re basically just one blurred skin colored square. 

“How dare he? He hasn’t commented on it at all... Y/N deleted photos of the two of them such as this one from their trip to Bondi Beach.”

The series of photos she displays make your heart clench. ‘Annaoop’ then begins to pull up the followers page on Jaden’s instagram. 

She informs you and the rest of her viewers that Mads, Nessa, Thomas, Petrou, Chase Hudson, Charli, Mia, and others have unfollowed Jaden’s instagram, and sided with you.

From the way she narrates you can tell she’s on your ‘side’. Apparently, Bryce has unfollowed you and written on his Twitter that Jaden would not be making a statement until he talked to you. Except he wasn't even trying to talk to you.

Your fans are going after Jaden, and from the screenshots some are getting ruthless. Some fans have even jumped ship from Jaden to you.

And then theres the die hard Jaden fans of his that are trashing you for not being good enough to him. It had already been established that it wasn't your body because it had a tattoo that you didn't.

Your phone is still blowing up but you don't truly want to talk about it. So instead you post a statement to your instagram and twitter. 

‘I haven’t been able to reach Jaden. We are no longer together because of the incident. Just because this happened does not mean I want or condone you attacking him or any of his friends and family. I love y'all and I will be okay <3 Y/N.’

No sooner than you had posted the statements, theres a loud pounding at your door. Very reluctantly, you open it.

It’s Nessa, she rushes in gushing. “Jaden’s coming here. I heard from Josh who heard from Blake, who heard from-”

“Nessa!” You interrupt, “When?”

“Well you know how bad at math I am but hypothetically, I mean technically he should be here soon!”

And as if right on cue, there’s the sound of your doorbell followed by rapid knocking by a heavier hand.

“I’ll go out the back door so he doesn't see me. Good luck, I love you! Call me if you need anything!” She gives you a quick and fleeting hug and then darts off.

He’s still pounding at your door. And having no other choice, you let him in. As soon as you do he's speaking so quickly that you can barely understand him. 

“Y/Nwhyhaventyoubeenansweringmeivebeencallingandcallingandcallingyouandyouhaventansweredandisawyourannouncementthatwerebrokenup-”

“Did you also happen to see the pictures you posted on your instagram?” You cross your arms.

“Ofcoursebutisweartoyouandeverythingreally-”

“Slow down or we can’t have a conversation Jaden.”

He gives you one sharp nod and takes a few big breaths. “Do you remember at my party when I got knocked by some girl?”

You frown, “No, and I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Well, thats the thing. It was orchestrated to look inconspicuous. She must have taken my phone then because after we were alone... y’know... well she showed up. Gave me my phone claiming I dropped it and Bryce told her where to find me except he didn't. She’s been stalking me Y/N. That’s how she found my room, knew my password. You know I have more respect for women than to post their nudes. You have to believe me! She blocked you from my phone, thats why nothing went through!”

It made sense... and you should believe him but what if he was just a really good liar? So many people were involved in your relationship and now this drama. You’d always tried to keep the private details of your life well... private. But life in the spotlight often prevented that. Maybe the damage had been done. Maybe it was too late. You just didn't know.

“I need to think about it Jaden.”

#Jaden hossler #angels and demons #angels x demons #hossler #tiktok #tiktok stars #sway #sway house #jaden #Jaden x reader #Jaden hossler x reader

[anxious-allie-ren]

Miscalculation

Hey cuties! So, I have started writing fanfiction! I have been posting on both AO3 and Wattpad. Both links are in my linktree in my bio! But, I’d like to share my first one-shot here. Let me know what you all think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's be honest, The Finalizer is boring.

Not a, "Oh, it's a calm day with nothing to do, kind of boring." But more like, "I'm trapped on a steel death ship in the vacuum less mass of space" kind of boring.

Okay maybe that's because you are trapped. You have been trapped for what feels like months. In reality, it's been a few weeks and you're really close to going insane.

It was a small error that landed you here. A tiny miscalculation that landed you on the path of Snoke's little apprentice. Should you have double checked to make sure you had enough fuel to get back to D'Qar? Yes. Did you? No. Instead you waste your credits on some shitty fried food at the docking station on Coruscant and take off. This leaves you stranded on Jakku. Luck was clearly on your side that day because this was the exact day Snoke's dog sent his bitches out on a mission. There you are, in your X-Wing with what seems like the biggest bullseye on you.

It doesn't take them long to sniff you out. You're ripped out of the cockpit by a knight in an all black mask with long shields placed on either side. The knight drops you to the ground and you can immediately see you're outnumbered. Six large armored men have circled you. Okay, so the blaster you're pointing at the one who man-handled you probably wasn't going to do shit. But that doesn't stop you from holding your ground.

"I am not afraid to shoot. I will blast you all right now."

This earns a chuckle from the group. That first knight speaks up.

"You're stranded on this sand pile with no fuel. I doubt you have enough plasma to shoot half of us."

You huff at his comment but stand your ground, keeping the blaster pointed at him.

"Trudgen, just grab her and let's get back to the mission. Master can decide what to do with her."

You take note of that fucker's name as two of the other knights haul you up by your arms roughly. You're dragged to the ugliest ship you've ever seen in your life and thrown in a dingy compartment.

"We'll be back rebel scum. Don't try anything." Trudgen said as he placed your blaster on his belt. Not like he has enough weapons strapped to his body or anything. You roll your eyes and try to sit in a spot that isn't covered in dust.

"No promises."

And that's how you ended up on the Finalizer. You made the journey here hell for the knights. You did eventually learn the rest of their names after eavesdropping on their conversations. When you arrived Vicrul and Ap'lek placed your hands in binders and led you to an interrogation room. After you were strapped into the interrogation chair the knights made their way to leave.

"Uh, excuse me? Where the fuck are you guys going? You can't just strapped me in to this stupid chair, way too tightly might I add, and then leave without saying anything!"

Vicrul and Ap'lek share a look and then turn towards you.

"We aren't the ones interrogating you, scum. Master is interested in you." Vicrul says, shrugging his shoulders.

"I have no idea why. Not much to be interested in." Ap'lek mutters as he turns to leave again.

You rolled your eyes as both knights leave the room. So you would be getting the honor of meeting Snoke's apprentice. Wonderful. From what you learned being in the Resistance, Kylo Ren was an overgrown toddler with a laser sword. So the likelihood of you coming out of this interrogation alive was small.

You probably sit strapped to that stupid chair for hours before Commander Ren decides to stroll on in. He comes through the door swiftly, feet pounding on the ground loudly. He stops in front of you and gives you a quick once-over. The mask finally meets your eyes.

"Are we just going to stare at each other? Or are we going to get this over with?"

Kylo ball his hands into fists and begins to circle the interrogation chair.

"I don't think you are in any position to ask questions right now. What were you doing on Jakku?"

"Your little boy band didn't fill you in already? I got stranded on that shitty planet. Didn't exactly go there by choice."

He stops in front of you again.

"And why did you get stranded?"

You immediately think back to your little error. You feel even more stupid looking back on it. Admitting to it is not something you were looking to do right now. What the fuck was the point of this? Was he really just going to ask you trivial questions? You figured Snoke would have taught him better than this if he's really so powerful.

Kylo leans down quickly, grabbing the sides of the chair by your head. The sudden movement makes you jump, wrists smacking against the restraints.

"I can hear all of your thoughts. It would be wise to watch what you think. Now answer the question."

Of course he can hear your thoughts. He's a fucking force user. Rookie mistake on your part really. But the idea of him actually hearing every thought you think does unnerve you.

"I ran out of fuel. Had to make an emergency landing, okay? Is that answer good enough for you?"

Kylo finally leans back up. He stares down at you and even though he's wearing that stupid fucking mask you can just tell he's got a judgemental look on his face.

"What kind of pilot runs out of fuel?"

You begin to argue back but he stops you.

"Not a very good one. A good pilot would have checked that they had enough fuel to get to their next destination. A good pilot wouldn't have spent all of their credits."

"Listen you fu-"

"A good pilot would have landed near a fueling station, not in the middle of nowhere. But I guess that's my point. You aren't a good pilot. Another useless member of the Resistance. So breaking you down is going to be easier than I thought."

All you could do was stare at him. He read your thoughts. He already knew everything. He wanted to embarrass you, make you feel small. It worked for a second. But if you were going to die today, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing your embarrassment.

You square your jaw and look right into the eyes of his mask.

"That's where you're wrong, buddy."

Kylo leans down so his mouthpiece is by your ear and whispers, "We'll see about that, little one."

He stands back up and stomps out of the room quickly. Leaving you feeling shocked, angry, and oddly aroused.

____________________________

So to everyone's surprise you did not die that day. Instead Kylo had you placed in a cell and that's where you've been for weeks. Stormtroopers come and feed you or take you to a refresher to bathe. Commander Ren has stopped by a few times since your original meeting. Nothing much has come of those ones either. Mostly him staring at you and asking trivial questions. Which just agitates you.

You can't seem to figure him out. He hasn't asked anything regarding the Resistance. What is the point of keeping you prisoner if he isn't going to get any useful information from you? It doesn't sit well with you.

When he doesn't visit you're left alone. Staring at the same four walls does get boring eventually. You've taken to sitting near the door and trying to listen to the stormtroopers conversations. Sometimes bucket heads spill some interesting tea. You learned last week that General Hux once got a boner after getting choked by the Commander.

That's what you're doing currently. Listening to the chatter when you suddenly hear the distinct pounding of boots. The last you knew, the Commander was away on a mission with the knights. As the footsteps draw closer you move quickly to your feet and back away from the door. Kylo strides through the door, chest heaving and fists clenched. You can feel the anger rolling off of him. So you're guessing his little adventure didn't go so well.

His hand flies up quickly, using the force to choke you.

"How many times do I have to tell you to watch your thoughts?"

Okay, so he heard you. You really gotta work on monitoring that. Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a toddler tantrum.

Just as the thought crosses your mind you're dragged across the floor towards Kylo. Your toes just barely touching the ground as you move. His hand wraps around your throat and he leans his masked face down into your own.

"I've given you far too many warnings. Now you're going to be punished."

Your eyes go wide as you look up into the soulless mask. This is it. This is where you die. You're going to die at the hands of this fucker and even worse, you're turned on.

Kylo spins you around and pins you to the wall. He kicks your feet apart using his boot, shoving his knee between your legs. You feel his thigh rub against your core. It takes all your self control to stop yourself from grinding down on it. He can feel the arousal pouring from your body.

He pulls his hand from your neck and leans back.

"I'm afraid you're enjoying this too much, little one."

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, to no prevail of course. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. But the anger from this whole situation has begun to build. You're sick and tired of being in this cell. You're enraged by his trivial fucking questioning. And now, he's teasing you. You've had enough of it. You are not going to be his toy.

"I'm not enjoying anything. Im stuck in this stupid cell guarded by bucket heads. You've done nothing but ask me useless fucking questions. What is the point of this? Why keep me around if I have no use?"

You watch as he reaches up quickly and yanks the mask off. You weren't sure what you were expecting. But it wasn't that. When you imagined the Commander of the First Order, you pictured some burnt deformed old man. Not a hot ass guy with perfect fucking hair.

He throws the mask off to the side and glares down at you.

"You've certainly got a use and now you're going to fulfill it."

Suddenly, you feel the most glorious swirling against your clit. You gasp and try to squirm away from him. He pins you harder against the wall and begins kissing up your neck. You begin to feel the pressure building just as he starts to remove your shirt.

"Fuck, I don't know what you're doing. But don't stop." You pant out.

Just as the words leave your mouth the swirling stops.

"What the actual fuck?"

"You didn't think I'd just let you cum, did you? This is a punishment."

That is the final straw. You were so close to ecstasy. So close to release. You have had enough of this little twat. You collect yourself and use all the strength you can to push him away from you.

"Enough fucking games. I'm not some toy to be played with. Either show me the reason I'm still here or kill me already!"

Commander Ren is quick. If you weren't aware of his position, you'd think he was a bounty hunter with how fast he can move. So fast in fact, that he has you pinned face down on your shitty cot before you can think. You're bent over with your hands held in his fist behind you. You try to squirm but only end up grinding your ass back into him. Either that's his lightsaber or he's really excited to see you.

"Who is the general of the Resistance?"

The question catches you off guard. Why the fuck is he asking you his trivial questions now? Of all fucking times. He certainly knows the answer to this one, so what's the point of this?

You must have been stuck in your thoughts for too long, because a strong slap comes across your left ass cheek. The sound echoes throughout the tiny cell and you're certain the stormtroopers outside heard it.

"Answer the question."

"Uh, General Organa. She's your mom, right?"

Stupid response. He grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. He growls in your ear, "I would advise you shut the fuck up. Stop being a little brat and cooperate or this will only get worse."

Kylo releases your hair and holds you down with the force. He yanks down your pants, revealing your slick soaked panties to the room. Kylo looks down and smirks.

"You're drenched. Bent over and pussy wet for the enemy. What kind of pilot would do that?"

He lands another hard slap to your right cheek this time. Giving it a small kneed afterwards.

"Oh that's right. Not a very good one."

You try to move against the force hold but it's no use. He's got the upper hand here. But you're not going to let him degrade you like that.

"That's rich coming from Snoke's little bitch."

His fist is back in your hair and his other grabs your hip, pulling you back against him. He grinds himself into you and groans out, "You're going to regret that, little one."

Kylo pulls himself away enough to pull down your panties. You feel his gloved finger glide through your slick down to your bundle of nerves. You gasp and wiggle your hips back towards him trying to gain more friction.

"What is your squadron?"

Not this bullshit again. He's playing with your pussy and asking you these dumbass questions? He pulls his hand away and lands a slap to your pussy, causing your legs to shake.

"I hate repeating myself, so answer the fucking question."

Your head is spinning and your pussy is clenching around nothing. You have no clue what the point of these questions are but you'll do anything to get him to touch you again.

"Blue Squadron! Fuck."

Kylo's hand comes back to you, this time bare. He begins rubbing slow circles around your nub, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

"Now that's a good girl. Keep answering your Commander and you'll get rewarded."

"You're not my fucking commander." You gasp as he inserts two thick fingers into your needy hole. "My commander is Poe Dameron."

You realize what you've said after it's too late. It's not exactly classified information. But it's certainly not something you should be sharing with the enemy. You've got to get it together if you're going to make it through this little visit.

"Dameron, hm? Interesting."

You hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper coming undone. He releases his long, girthy cock from the confines of his pants. It lands on your ass as Kylo grabs hold of both your hips.

"Are you ready for your punishment? I'm going to destroy this little cunt."

You arch your back, pushing your ass up. "I really doubt that. But you can try."

With our warning, Kylo buries his whole length in your wet heat. You gasp as he knocks the air out of your lungs, taking you by surprise. He begins thrusting into you at a slow pace, taking his time. You can feel every glorious inch of him, from tip to hilt.

You moan out and wiggle your hips, trying to get him to speed up. "If you're going to punish me, you'll have to try harder than this."

He snarls at your comment, squeezing your hips and picking up the pace. The little cell is filled with the sounds of your breathy moans, his grunts, and skin slapping. You get so lost in the pleasure you nearly miss him speaking to you.

"Where is the Resistance base?"

You almost answer. You almost let that information slide, forgetting where you are and whose cock is buried inside you. But then it all clicks. He's trying to distract you for information. Nice fucking try Commander Cunt.

"Fuck off."

Kylo grunts and releases one of your hips to instead grab a fistful of your hand. He yanks your head back and forces your back to arch further, making his cock reach deeper inside your pussy. Kylo begins pounding into you, each thrust hitting your sweet spot.

"Where the fuck is the Resistance base?"

Your moans are loud at this point. You couldn't care less about the stormtroopers outside hearing you. This all feels too good. But you aren't going to give in to him this easy. The resistance is counting on you. You are not some weak pilot that gives in to this moody bitch.

"Fuck. Off." You moan out in response.

Kylo's other hand leaves your hip and snakes down your front. He begins rubbing fast circles against your clit. You scream as you feel the pressure beginning to build again.

"Tell me where the fucking base is, pet."

You scream out in pleasure and frustration. You're so close. Just teetering on the edge. You so badly want to let go. So you crack.

"Fuck! Fine! D'Qar! The resistance base is on D'Qar! Please just let me come! Please!"

Kylo smirks, knowing he's won. He picks up the pace on your clit and groans out, "That's right, now be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

That was all you needed. You screamed in ecstasy, "Yes, fuck Kylo!"

Your pussy clenched around him as you came, your juices covering him. Kylo grunted, fucking you through your orgasm.

Soon after you came down from your high, you felt his cock twitch inside you. Kylo quickly pulled out of you and yanked you up by your hair.

"On your knees and mouth open, rebel bitch."

You quickly dropped to your knees and did just as he said, closing your eyes. Kylo pumped his cock over your face, using your slick and cum as lube. He threw his head back and let out a feral groan. Strings of his milky seed covering your face.

Once he was finished, you swallow what had gotten in your mouth and began wiping the rest off your face, licking it from your fingers. Fuck he tastes delicious. When you could finally open your eyes, he was already by the door. He had tucked himself away and put his glove back on. Kylo grabbed his helmet and looked back at you.

"Just as I thought. You're a useless Resistance member. So easy to destroy."

You sit there stunned by his words, letting everything that had just happened sink in.

"It has been fun breaking you, little one."

With one last look, Kylo places his helmet back on his head and walks out of the cell.

You stare at the door and replay his words. Maybe you were a shitty Resistance member. Others probably wouldn't have broken that easily, or at all. But with some of his cum drying on your face and a satisfied feeling, you can't find it in you to care.

You're secretly hoping Commander Ren needs more information. You might come to enjoy his little visits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope everyone enjoyed! If you all are interested, I can post on here more. Let me know! 

#firstorder #kyloren #kylo x reader #Kylo #kylo ren x you #resistance #fanfiction #starwars #oneshot #smutty #smutty one shot #smutty fanfiction

[listless-brainrot]

Hi! I know you love Haru and I'd love to hear your thoughts on what his personality is like? Not his bending or his ships, but just what kind of person he is. He was super undeveloped in ATLA and I'd love to understand him better and write about him!

hey, i'm glad you asked!! super flattering to have you come to me in regards to this question, and i've analyzed this guy to hell and back over the course of nearly a year now, so i'd be more than happy to give you my characterization of him

granted, it's pretty lengthy, and is heavily based on canon, hence why a lot of it ties to his bending, but i'll try my best to make it so that it's more about haru as a person, rather than his service to the plot

also makes me super happy to hear that people do want to understand and write about him!! that really does mean the world to me particularly, so thank you <3

with all of this in mind, here's a collection of my (pretty lengthy, sorry about that) thoughts:

haru being super undeveloped is actually one of the reasons why i find him so compelling- there’s so much you can do with a character of his caliber because there’s not much canon/supplementary material that can discredit your characterizations. canon, however, does actually supply a characterization of him that i’ve managed to compile and accrue over the course of finding nearly every single little detail i can find pertaining to him. this includes his canon episodes in both book 1 and 3, the videogame he appears in (which is straight up called avatar: the last airbender), and even the silly shorts.

(mild disclaimer, i know full well that the latter two i mentioned are considered non canon, but i like incorporating little bits and pieces of what they have to offer, as i don’t really have any other options. also, the videogames are the only supplementary material where he’s treated as a part of the gaang, so it’s the most personality you’ll ever get.)

i’ll start with main characteristics i try to keep in mind when writing him, and then talk about smaller, more innocuous details that i just find particularly fitting for him.

haru is:

emotionally driven. a lot of his decisions are more driven by emotion, rather than logic. this ties in with his impulsivity and morality. he’s aggravated by his position in the village as the only earthbender left, and this culminates into him still bending discreetly despite the inherent risk. he does this not only for himself, but to preserve the (possibly only) emotional connection he has to his arrested father. this is a similarity he shares with katara, who’s emotionally tied to her mother due to losing her, and haru is the one to understand what that loss really means in this interaction: “this necklace is all i have left of her.” “it’s not enough, is it?” by saying this instead of an apology or some other response, he shows that the feeling of loss she’s experiencing is mutually understood in a way that goes beyond just sympathy. there is nothing that will replace who you’ve lost other than the person themselves, and he understand that more than anyone. it’s also implied that haru doesn’t know if his father is still alive, as no one knows where the prisoners go, but it’s clear that he still holds a sort of hope that he’s somewhere out there, and that keeps him going. it just takes a little bit of outside influence for him to fully believe in that, as well as being reunited with his father again. in general, he’s also pretty receptive of other’s emotions, and is quick to come to their aid.

impulsive. not just impulsive, either- he’s got anger and resentment lying beneath his quiet composure. it’s not as bad as characters such as zuko’s, but it’s still worth mentioning. i’ll mention the impulse part first, though- generally speaking, haru reacts faster than he thinks. upon being spotted practicing his bending by katara, he runs away without pausing to consider the harmful repercussions of being found out (nor followed home). he not only runs away from danger as a first instinct, he also runs towards it in some cases, ironically enough- he’s the first one to notice and immediately run towards the mines once he hears/sees the explosion and suspects that someone’s in trouble. he does this without any prompting by katara, even if the act of actually saving the old man needed some egging on from her in order for him to accomplish. his impulsivity comes to a head in the form of his most dangerous act- him attacking the warden. i’ve already elaborated on that specific interaction here, though i will once again emphasize that haru had absolutely no plans past attacking the warden based on his body language, further fueling the idea that this was just a split second decision, one made on nothing but complete and utter impulse. to bring the anger aspect into this, he’s also unable to hold his tongue and insults the fire nation soldiers and even his town once the former leaves, and his instincts swing wildly between running and fighting on a dime with little in-between.

adaptable. instead of completely shutting down in the face of such a negative situation (and over the course of five years, no less), he brings it upon himself to practice bending, accept his role as man of the house and work in both the shop and on the farm, and other responsibilities that go unmentioned, especially when taking into account that his father is apparently the leader of his village. this is where you could start paralleling him well to sokka, which i have done before, but i will make this more haru-oriented. there is definitely a lot more to be inferred with this particular aspect of him, but i will say that it takes someone of strong will to adapt to the situations presented in his episode, and learning to live with the grim reality of fire nation occupation. to run down what we see again- soldiers freely patrolling the villages, soldiers overtaxing the villagers, soldiers entering wherever they wish unannounced, soldiers stealing away people in the night without much resistance, soldiers forcing villagers to work in the coal mines to gather the coal needed for their ships, and soldiers forcing captured earthbenders to build fire nation ships. this is all off of the top of my head, so i could be missing a lot, but again, seeing haru still be as morally oriented and determined as he is after all of this, it’s pretty impressive and telling of his adaptive capabilities. to take this one step further, he’s also extremely adaptable when it comes to working with others, as in the games he fills his role as a necessary component of the gaang without conflicting sokka or other preexisting roles, and in book 3, he finds his place amongst teo and the duke, taking the most initiative amongst the three.

lonely. a snippet from his personality bio on avatarspirit.net calls him “lonely and brave”, and i think that’s especially fitting for his character. he only had his mom for five whole years after every other earthbender was taken away, and this is without mentioning the ostracization he faced simply being one, given how the fire nation constantly demoralizes his country’s benders and likens them to savages. the village he lives in also appears to be full of old folks, so it’s not very likely that he had friends his age that were even in town, especially if we consider the circumstances of following book 2 episodes with the earth army recruiters. (it’s also unlikely that his friends are alive if they did join the army- take a gander at this line from zuko alone: Gow: Just thought someone ought to tell you, your son's battalion got captured. You boys hear what the Fire Nation did with their last group of Earth Kingdom prisoners? Soldier: Dressed them up in Fire Nation uniforms and put them on the frontline unarmed, way I heard it.  Then they just watched.) furthermore, it’s not likely that haru could’ve left his little village prior to its occupation- the games imply he’d been to omashu previously, but the circumstances of the war make this unlikely, unless he was super young. given his not always pleasant attitude and sullen expression we sometimes see him with, it’s not hard to imagine that the effects of him being so alone without the connections he needs has affected him deeply.

some other things:

-he’s horrible at lying (”they’re crazy! i mean, just look at how they’re dressed” is that really the best excuse you could’ve come up with??). -he doesn’t like keeping his hands/arms still (arms are usually crossed, sometimes gestures as he talks, hands usually balled as if expecting a fight). -he’s pretty outwardly expressive (for someone who’s supposed to be hiding most of the time, he tends to wear his emotions/intentions on his sleeve). -he can’t bite his tongue (especially when it comes to something that goes against his personal beliefs). -he doesn’t know how to react to touch (katara hugging him takes him by surprise both times, and he doesn’t reciprocate often, if anything he reacts stiffly) -he’s particular about his appearance (notably in the games, he makes negative comments about people touching his hair, and there’s also. sokka’s comments in book 3. sigh.) -he’s considered dangerous/sensitive by others (note sokka’s comments in book 1, and katara’s comments in the school time shipping short) -he lives a busy personal life (works both in the family shop and on the family farm, and has probably had to work in the coal mines at some point, though this is speculative) -he’s not above poking/having fun (in the games, he’s not above making fun of sokka and his comments about benders, and jumps at the opportunity to ride the omashu mail chutes) -he’s family oriented (count how many times he talks about his parents, it is many times i assure you, it’s important to note that he’s one of the few atla characters to actually have both parents as well as a decent relationship with them) -he has a tendency to idealize. he talks about his father fighting against the fire nation even when horribly outnumbered. it wouldn’t be surprising if he idealized the ideal of rebellion (which would later bite him given that:) -he’s a part of the first successful earth kingdom rebellion. this is mentioned on the wiki, and is unfortunately not shown in the show. it should’ve been, though. -he’s dramatic. he has an entire cliff he brings katara up to just to be dramatic and spill his sad backstory. he needs to be encouraged to save the old man, but he does it in the most dramatic way possible- he really didn’t have to stop the entire avalanche AND push it back into the mines. drama king. -he is very lucky. this can apply to anyone who encounters the gaang, but honestly, given his personality and a few things i’ve mentioned above, it’s a miracle that he’d survived as long as he did without detection nor suspicion. -he’s creative. (this one is much more speculative, but he does create huge statues of katara and ty lee pretty quickly, maybe he’s done similar things before)

to summarize: he’s a lonely impulsive idealist who isn’t afraid to throw hands if necessary and is also very attached to his dad <3 his connection to his dad makes up at least 75% of his personality

#hope this helps! i'm real sorry this took me so long #feel free to send another ask or message me if you'd like more details on anything! #this is the haru analysis i promised way back whoops #here it is now #hope yall enjoy #haru #atla haru #haru atla #atla #avatar the last airbender #character analysis #haru analysis #ask #unacaritafeliz #original #do you people see what i mean by brainrot now. do you see #he has such little screentime and yet i have ALL OF THIS to say. what the hell #baffling to me truly #but yes i truly do love him and it shows #also how could i forget the most important part! he’s gay <3

[lisbonsteresa]

Fallout (post 2x12)

The day after the food festival was the busiest day Bess had ever seen at the Claw. Winning the chowder competition had brought in - or maybe brought back - wave after wave of diners, and by the end of the day she was exhausted but happy (and very proud to say that she had not dropped a single dish). She sat at the bar, resting her feet and marrying the ketchups while George took care of the last few stragglers and Ace - 

Well, Ace was staring intently at the closed office door with a sour look on his face. The same door that had shut behind Nancy and Nick five minutes earlier after she’d pulled him aside and quietly asked to talk to him in private.

Bess could hear murmured voices coming from inside, and while she couldn’t deny that part of her was dying to know what they were being so secretive about, she was more than a little surprised to see Ace so interested. “You know,” she began, setting the ketchup bottles back onto the bar and sidling over to lean against it next to Ace, “instead of trying to bore a hole through the door with that glare, you could send me in. I’m very good at ‘accidentally overhearing’ things”.

She’d expected that to get a chuckle out of him, or at least a smile, but if anything his expression only darkened. “No thanks.” He said flatly. “I already know what they’re talking about.”

“And are you planning on bringing the rest of us into the loop?” She could feel her face falling into something dangerously close to a pout. “Platanchors are meant to share things, you know - that’s what I’m here for.” He didn’t respond and his eyes stayed fixed on the door. “Is this about your brother?” she tried instead. “Did he make contact with you again? Is that where you and Nancy went yesterd-”

“Bess, please just drop it.” he interrupted, pushing off from the bar and stalking towards the storeroom. 

She watched him go, caught in shock for a moment at his brush off, before she rushed after him. He was already fiddling with his locker by the time she caught up, jabbing maybe a bit too hard at his hunched shoulder. “No I will not ‘just drop it’! I understand that this is a sore subject for you Ace, and I know you and Nancy have your own….thing going on,” he turned towards her with a pained expression at this, but she was too fired up to wonder why. “but you are my best friend, and if you think I’m just going to let you stand around sulking when I might be able to do something about it -”

“Hey!” George’s voice cut in from across the room as she poked her head through the doorway. “Can we save the dramatics for a closed restaurant? We just started getting people back in the door, and I don’t want whatever’s going on here” - a sudden “What?!” in Nick’s voice came from the direction of the office - “…or there to scare away the night owls.”

Bess turned away from Ace with a huff, perching herself on the bench with her back to him and crossing her arms in annoyance. “I’ll stop being dramatic when Ace stops keeping secrets.”

“Really? We can’t have one day of peace?” George sighed as she crossed the room, stopping in front of the bench and staring expectantly at Ace with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. “Alright, spill it string bean”

“It’s not a secret” he protested weakly, dropping onto the bench next to Bess and swinging his legs over so they were facing the same way, avoiding eye contact the whole time. “I just don’t want to to talk about it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let me get involved,” George snorted, “because now you’re not leaving without telling us what’s going on”

Ace looked back and forth between them, his face utterly miserable, before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and stare at the floor. “Nancy recanted her testimony.”

“She what?!” It was hard to tell who between George and Bess looked more shocked.

“She went to the DA and told her she no longer believes Everett was responsible for the Bonny Scot sinking.”

“No she did not -” George spun on her heel before even finishing her sentence and marched up the stairs out of the room. A moment later they could hear the office door click open and slam closed, and her voice joined the muffled (but rapidly increasing in volume) conversation happening inside.

Bess looked almost beside herself. “But I don’t understand….why - how could she do that? She has more reason to distrust the Hudsons than almost anyone. With everything she knows about their shady dealings…what they did to that crew…what they did to Lucy?” Ace’s face grew more and more pained with every word. “Nancy doesn’t want anything to do with them; she hates even being in the same sentence as Everett…why would she help him like this?”

“Because of me.” Ace’s voice was dull as he lifted his head to finally look her in the eye.

“What?”

“This guy, Daniel West, he wanted information that Nancy and I helped Grant find. My brother.” He added, answering Bess’s question before it left her mouth, but continuing on before she could even think to form the countless others his bare-bones explanation brought up. “He grabbed me at the festival and used me as a bargaining chip. To save me, Nancy had to give him the information. And to keep the information from getting to the wrong people, she had to call Celia -”

“And Celia didn’t wait to cash in a favor in return.” Bess finished for him, horrified understanding flooding her face. 

Ace nodded sullenly. “And now a murder is probably going to go free and Nancy has to watch her bio-family cheat justice again because of what she did and it’s my fault.”

“Oh Ace no, it’s not your fault.” Bess murmured, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in an attempt to give any kind of reassurance she could. “There’s no way you could have known what that West guy was willing to do. We’ll just have to find another way to beat the Hudsons, but no one is to blame for this, and I know Nancy would say the same thing. I mean she would probably have done what she did for anyo-”

“But she didn’t do it for ‘anyone’, did she?” Ace finally snapped, springing up from the bench and leaving Bess’s arm to drop back to her side with a smack as he paced back and forth, his face contorted with more anger and guilt than she had ever seen him express before. “She did it for me, Bess! And now not only do I have the deaths of everyone on that ship on my conscience; I have the death of Nancy’s integrity too!”

“Don’t worry.” a weak voice called out, and they both looked up suddenly to see Nancy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hands twisting in the strap of her bag and eyes wet. “I can’t speak for anyone on the Bonny Scot, but I’m pretty sure my integrity died the moment I found out I’m a Hudson.” It almost seemed like she was trying to make the words into a joke, but her mouth kept twisting into a grimace instead of a grin, and tears had started streaming down her face. She waved Bess back when she moved to get up and comfort her, then with a watery “See you tomorrow” she ran down the steps and out of the Claw, the back door slamming behind her with a bang that shook the bulletin board hanging on the wall next to it. 

Ace rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet for a beat, looking like he was having a fierce argument with himself before dragging a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan and following Nancy out of the building. A strained call of “Nancy, wait -” floated into the storeroom before the door closed with another tremendous bang and Bess was left sitting on the bench alone, with her head in her hands, wondering how in the world they were ever going to fix this.

#ndff #i - dunno #me: i really hope things don't get TOO bad with the crew after this episode #also me: but what if they DO #nancy drew cw

[kingofkingdom-archive]

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra. 

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died. 

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less. 

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

-

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it. 

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least. 

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right. 

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder. 

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down. 

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled. 

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles. 

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. 

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

-

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling. 

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around. 

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together. 

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

-

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate. 

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

-

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly. 

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment. 

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

-

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself. 

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another. 

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

-

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school. 

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way. 

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?” 

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how. 

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center. 

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you." 

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication. 

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

-

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her. 

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation. 

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

#ezra x you #ezra (prospect) #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #prospect #prospect fanfiction #prospect (2018) #ezra x reader smut #pedrp pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #ezra fic #ezra prospect x reader #canon compliant #wrote this while listening exclusively to grimes #take that as you will