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#on the one hand i love to see them fight for their love instead of take each other for granted
spaghettiposts · 2 days
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It’s okay to need help
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Snapping at your wife was the last thing you wanted to do, but between the pressures of financial disputes you do. You both seek to make things right.
Warnings: arguments, slight angst, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be way more angsty but I’m weak. Wife Wanda fluff
Word count: 1.1k
A/n: Honestly just a short little drabble and writing practice, I might do more writing prompts. This little thing took a toll on me and I’m suffering through writers block 😞 reblogs are SUPER appreciated please yall 🙏
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Your eyes burned and you weren’t sure if it was from the dim kitchen lighting or the tears prickling inside you. 
Papers were messily scattered across the table, their contents a jumbled blur that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on. Not while your mind was elsewhere—with Wanda.
Wanda who wasn’t sitting with you like she always was when going over expenses, stroking your shoulders to relieve some of the tension, laying her head to rest on you while her lips pressed delicately against your cheek. You missed your wife, by gods you did. But you were stubborn.
Instead of apologizing, you’d gaze over longingly hoping she’d somehow see you—read your mind and spare you just one look, but her attention remained focused on the television, curled into the couch; playing her comfort show. 
It drove you crazy how desperately you wanted her to see you, but you knew that wasn’t fair of you to ask.
Arguments with Wanda felt like the ground crumbling beneath your feet, threatening to swallow you whole at any moment. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks tore at your soul, and you hated the way it was your fault. Hurting her was a vow you promised never to make, but relationships wouldn’t be without their faults, no matter how hard one tried.
In those initial months of calling Wanda your wife, every moment felt like peaceful bliss, a love so pure you thought how could loving her possibly be a sin in God’s eyes? Then the bliss turned to ignorance, somewhere along the lines.
Fights became frequent, and crying did too. 
And hell, you figured maybe after marriage there wouldn’t be so many. For years, you shared a room in the compound, and you knew each other's routines by heart, you knew Wanda. But in the compound, there weren't any expenses, not like now, now that you were sitting at the kitchen island with an abundance of bills that only seemed to keep stacking up. And up. And up. 
Waves of stress fell on your shoulders as you stared, wondering how you got into this financial state. Never had you once felt as useless as you had now and it was only digging into you further, on the verge of crushing the sanctuary you had built with Wanda; that was threatening to crumble, and you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. Not when your heart ached so badly for your wife.
Setting aside your previous frustrations, you pushed your chair out and let the papers fall from your hands, figuring you’d deal with them later. You sucked in a breath, trying to regain some composure but with Wanda? Collecting yourself was pretty impossible. 
Crossing the living room you cautiously approached your wife, slowly sitting beside her but still she didn’t turn to acknowledge you. She lay with her back facing you, tucked into a small crimson blanket. 
You smiled fondly, recalling how you had gotten the blanket because it reminded you of her, one that she promptly stole, with the excuse of it smelling like you bringing her solace when you weren’t around. The sight of her like this shattered your heart. 
With a sigh, you inched closer until you were pressed against her back. When she didn’t tense, you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. Wanda sighed as you peppered kisses against her skin, first on her cheek and then her neck. The act wasn’t sexual of any kind, but loving lingering ones you knew she loved, needed, and craved after every argument.
Knowing that she preferred your touch, you gave yourself to her, smiling when her fingers interlaced with yours. She still needed you just as much as you needed her. 
A beat of silence passed as you relaxed further into each other, and your eyes momentarily strayed away from the TV to shift into a seated position. You knew you had to say something before things got harder. 
Before Wanda could question you spoke up: 
“I’m sorry Wanda, I never meant for things to get so…heated.” You murmured sincerely, running your fingers through the loose strands of her hair and Wanda sighed.  
Leaning against your side, Wanda mimicked your position, bringing her knees to her chest. 
She gave you a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve come to you first before calling Tony for money this month. I messed up.”
You denied it with your head, bringing her into a warm embrace, and kissing the crown of her head. “No no, you did nothing wrong. Your intentions were good and I shouldn’t have shouted that way. I just…it’s difficult for me, you know?” Your explanation came slowly, averting her gaze, and Wanda gripped your shirt tighter. “I don’t like asking for help.” 
The confession fell flat on your lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth and you felt silly. But instead of ridicule, you were met with the soft touch of Wanda’s hands, cupping your cheeks as if to reassure your embarrassment. Her thumbs felt good on your skin and slowly coaxed you to look at her.  
You opened your mouth to speak but before you got the chance Wanda was bringing your lips together in a slow tender kiss and you sighed. No matter how long you lived you were certain of one thing: you’d never tire of the feeling of Wanda’s lips on yours. 
When the need for air became overwhelming, you reluctantly broke the kiss, shivering at her touch. Her forehead resting on yours, breath fanning your lips. 
“It’s okay to need help, detka, and we need help.” She affirmed, gently squeezing your hands while stealing kisses between each word till your frown disappeared. 
You rolled your eyes affectionately at her actions, not being able to frown anymore and finally pulling her into a longer kiss, something you both craved.
“I’ll talk to Tony tomorrow.” You tell her, and her lips purse in hesitation.
“Dorogaya…if you’re not ready—“
“I’m ready Wanda, I don’t want to be worrying about how much we spend anymore. I want to focus on more important things, like us. I mean you still want kids right?” You asked tentatively and Wanda stifled a laugh at how stiffened you were. 
“Yes Y/n, I still want kids with you.” Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But I’m serious, and kids are far from where we are now. Are you absolutely sure?” 
“I’m sure.” You nodded. 
Still, Wanda pulled away from you, studying your expression. When she found nothing, she softened, giving you a supportive nod and a big grin. Your smile widened, and you advanced on her the next second earning a squeal, peppering her face with kisses and laughing along with her.
All you could think of was how grateful you were to have a wife like her. 
Change was hard but with Wanda, the weight felt easier to carry, and with time you’d learn you wouldn’t have to bear that alone anymore. There were still things you had to fix and you wouldn’t rest until you made things right with your wife but for now, you had a phone call to make. Within weeks you’d be changing jobs and attitudes. Things wouldn’t always be an easy route but you’d sure as hell try harder. For her.
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purple-babygirl · 3 days
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in the far corner of the forest III
Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader
Word Count: 6,540
Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.
Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.
A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜
~
“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.
He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.
Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.
“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.
She was ignoring him.
Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.
It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.
Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.
She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.
Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.
“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.
When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.
“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.
“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.
“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.
Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.
He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.
So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.
It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.
“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.
“Yes.”
“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.
“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.
She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.
No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.
“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.
Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.
She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”
She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.
She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.
~
She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.
“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.
Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.
She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.
It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.
But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.
When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.
“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.
He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.
She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.
Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.
It was just like… a date.
Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.
She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.
She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.
“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.
She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.
She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.
Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.
She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.
It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.
“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.
“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.
He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.
In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.
She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”
Gods, the way she said his name was something else.
“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.
As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.
Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?
She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.
She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.
Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.
Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.
Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?
No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.
She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.
So she did.
And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.
She knew just the thing to do actually.
She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.
She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.
She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.
She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.
This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.
“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”
~
“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.
“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.
It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.
It felt… way better.
“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”
She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”
“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”
A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.
“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.
“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.
“And who’s Sam?”
“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.
At least Sam was a male.
So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.
“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.
“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.
“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.
The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”
She looked up at him with a silent glare.
Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings
“Are you… jealous?”
Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.
Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!
“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.
“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.
Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.
She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.
She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.
Who did he think he was?
It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.
He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.
The clan he never introduced her to.
How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?
Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.
She was jealous. She was jealous over him.
He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.
He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.
She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.
When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.
Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.
He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.
A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.
“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.
“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.
Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.
It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.
Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!
Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.
~
The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.
She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.
She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.
Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.
“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.
“She’s not my—”
“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.
Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.
She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.
Oh, that was it.
She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.
But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.
Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?
She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.
Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!
How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!
She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.
She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.
This marriage ends today.
~
Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.
After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?
Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.
How could he make her see that?
As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.
“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.
Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.
He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.
Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.
Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.
Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.
He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.
~
“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”
Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.
“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.
“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.
“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.
“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.
Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.
She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.
“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.
Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.
“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.
“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.
Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.
Not even a real marriage.
Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.
“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.
Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.
“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.
Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.
She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.
What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.
Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.
He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.
Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?
“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.
Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.
Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.
How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?
“Hey.”
She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.
“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.
“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”
She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.
Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.
“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.
Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.
“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”
“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.
He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”
She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.
He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.
This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.
“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.
“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.
“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.
So she had read the contracts.
“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.
“What do you mean?!”
“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.
“You what?!” She became even angrier.
He did this? She was here now because of him?!
“I willingly picked you, little human.”
“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.
Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!
“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”
Won a glimpse
Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you
No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?
“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”
She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.
She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.
No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.
“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”
She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.
“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”
“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.
“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”
Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.
But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.
When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.
Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.
She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.
When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.
“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.
She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.
She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.
She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.
Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.
“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.
“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.
She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.
How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?
“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.
Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”
She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.
“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.
She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”
“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.
“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.
“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.
It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.
“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.
“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.
“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.
She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?
She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.
In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.
“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.
“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.
“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”
Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.
He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.
“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.
She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.
“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”
“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.
They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?
“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.
Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.
“Don’t be upset, little human.”
She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.
Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.
Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.
“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”
“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.
“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.
“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.
He smiled wider because she could.
Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.
For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.
Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.
“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.
But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.
Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.
“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.
As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.
She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.
She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”
Yeah, they were going to be okay.
~
Tag List:
@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions
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satorusugurugurl · 1 day
Note
This is kinda angsty angst. But what about one where reader got into an argument with jjk boy (maybe either satosogu, nanami, or choso) and they stop functioning or start getting reckless during missions and get really hurt. And they have a lil soft smutty smut to show reader that they love them and want them to stay on this planet.
Maybe I Should!
Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader
Warnings: Yelling, fighting, blood, near-death experience, makeup, soft sex, fluff at the end, romance,
Word Count: 3,179
A/N: When I got this request, Nanami was the first to come to mind! I love him so much this request was made for him.
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“You cannot take this mission!” Nanami snapped, cornering you against a wall. “It's too dangerous!”
“It's a grade-one curse! I'm a grade-one sorcerer; it’s an even match!” You shot back, ducking under his arm, reaching for your bags. “I’m not some fragile flower for you to protect.”
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, following behind you with a scowl. “This is not about me treating you like you’re fragile! I’ve read the case files! I’ve seen the damage that curse had done! This is way out of your league.” The room grew hotter with your growing rage.
“I can handle this!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
Nanami’s hand snapped forward, the veins in his arms and wrist flexed as he held onto you firmly. His touch wasn’t painful or too rough; it was gentle, allowing you to pull away at any given moment. For the first time since he told you you shouldn’t go, you stopped, turning to glance up at him. You were expecting to meet pleading eyes begging you not to go, to stay here. That gaze was nowhere to be found. Instead, you were met with a stern, cold look. One that just ticked you off even more.
You looked away as you yanked your wrist from his grasp. “I’m going; I can handle this on my own.” Your boyfriend remained silent. “I’m not one of the children at the high school.” A lump formed in your throat as you tilted your chin to give him a severe glare. “You tend to forget how strong I am. You look at me like I’m some pretty little weak housewife. I’m not!” Nanami scoffed; it was full of annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yes, I am aware; if you were my housewife, you would have the decency to at least listen to what I have to say!”
“If that’s what you fuckin’ want, maybe you should go out and find yourself a girl like that!”
“Maybe I should!!”
His words were like an ice pick to your gut. Those three words stole the breath from your lungs, rendering you speechless. Nanami’s honey-brown eyes didn’t meet yours; they glared down at the floor as he clenched his jaw so tight you could see the muscles in his neck twitch. You felt tears burning in your eyes; you struggled to find the words to say.
What was there to say? He had said enough. Maybe the two of you had grown apart from the missions you both kept taking. Perhaps this fight was the end of you and him.
“Love, I didn’t mean—“
“You did.” His eyes finally met yours; they were wide, full of confusion and regret. “You meant every word.” Tears blurred your vision as you wiped angrily at your eyes. “I have a plane to catch; let’s put a pin in—“ you motioned between the two of you. “us ending our relationship right now. I can’t focus on it when I have a mission.”
“Wait!” Nanami called out your name before you stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door.
The conversation, well, the fight, plagued your mind the entire way to Okinawa. His words, the anger that twisted over his face. Thinking of his reaction was a bundled mess of doubt and heartache that sat upon your chest and clouded your mind.
‘Maybe I should!’
Anger fumed within the deepest part of your soul as you lowered a veil around the abandoned shrine you were sent to cleanse. Maybe he should pull his head out of his ass! You weren’t that same high schooler that was a year younger than him! You didn’t run off to be a businessman! You stuck it out and got more scars than you could count! So maybe he should realize you could take care of yourself!
Your fuming anger blinded you as you walked through the halls, glaring around corners, trying to sense the energy of this stupid curse. But Nanami’s stupid face, the rage, regret, the sorrowfulness in his eyes when he said, ‘Maybe I should,’ left his lips crossed your mind. He turned pale when you told him you would discuss ending your relationship. Thinking about him, about what was to come for the two of you, had you stopping in your tracks.
Ending things with Nanami was the last thing you wanted to do. But he needed to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t as weak as he thought. You were as strong as him; you could handle missions independently—even grade-one curses.
A grade-one curse that came out of nowhere and slammed you against the wall so hard you saw black spots. A wheezed, pained gasp escaped you as your eyes widened in shock. It is a curse made out of thick thorns, garbling and swaying. You moved as fast as your body would allow, a thorny arm slashing over your back, causing a wretched scream to crawl up your throat as you ducked and rolled behind a pillar.
Blood soaks into your shirt, coating the fabric as you pull out your talisman paper. Using blood from your cheek, you scribble out ‘purify’ over the parchment before embedding your cursed energy into it. Blue energy flowed around it as you rolled out from behind the pillar, tossing it towards the cursed spirit. Despite the fact the talisman was written on paper, your cursed technique made all your talismans hit your targets like daggers.
As your talisman struck the curse in the center of the face, it screamed in pain before it dissipated into black smoke, fading away. You let out a pained whine as you limped forward, glaring down at its fading form. But as its mouth began to fade, it laughed. It was a laugh that made your skin crawl and goosebumps rise over your skin. Something wasn’t right about this.
Whirling around, you were met face-to-face with another thorn-cursed spirit. This one was larger and stronger than the last. Nanami’s words from earlier ran through your veins like ice.
‘I’ve read the case files! I’ve seen the damage this curse has done!’
Little did the both of you know, this curse turned out to be curses—two of them, both grade one. The first one was strong, but this one, this one was crazy stupid strong. If you didn't move, you'd be killed. You rushed forward, reaching for more paper in your pocket, only to be thrown across the floor, your head hitting the floor with a heavy crack!
With blurry vision, you slowly sat up before collapsing forward as the curse rushed towards you. Thorn-covered limbs and vines wrapped around your legs, yanking you towards it. Its mouth opened, and a large tongue lolled out as you hit the ground with every yank. You screamed in defiance, kicking and screaming, tearing your flesh on the thorns, fighting to grab a piece of parchment out. The curse only seemed to enjoy your pitiful wails as you wrapped around you tighter, its tongue slowly sliding up your back as you drew closer towards its mouth.
That was its first mistake; as it brought inches near its open mouth, you roared, slamming a talisman onto its tongue. The paper burned with cursed energy before the kanji ‘purification flames’ lit up, engulfing the curse in blue fire. As it burned, its grip on you loosened, freeing and allowing you to crawl back, watching it thrash and scream.
You stared into the flames, wheezing roughly as you groaned. A see-through version of Nanami stood there, glaring down at you in disapproval as you struggled to stand. The Nanami said nothing as you gripped your side with a weak chuckle.
“S-See, I was f-fine.” you limped forward, “I could handle it.” Nanami shook his head. “Dead as a doorna-Gaaahk!” Blood spurted from your mouth as a stabbing pain shot through your stomach. Stumbling, you looked down with blurry vision at a large blackthorn emerging from your abdomen. Your blood dripped onto the ground as the throne turned to ash.
‘You were reckless.’ The Nanami before you watched as you fell to your knees, your hands clasped firmly over your bleeding wound. ‘Reckless, weak, not even worthy of being a housewife.’
Either his words or the pain had you collapsing onto your side, blood bubbling out of your mouth. Nanami, your Nanami would never say that. Iron flooded your taste and smell as you watched Nanami fade. Nita came rushing in, falling to her knees and shaking you as you stared weakly into the distance.
Perhaps you should have listened to him instead of fighting with him. He was only looking out for you, trying to keep you safe. But you had taken his adoration and concern for you as him seeing you incapable of taking this dangerous mission on. A weak laugh escaped you as you felt Nita dragging you, screaming into a phone.
Maybe being a housewife wouldn't be that bad. It might have been fun. But you would never get to experience that. Your body was too cold as blood seeped out through your fingers as someone pulled you into a car. Your name turned into humming as you shut your eyes.
“Darling,”
“Hm?” You asked, opening your eyes before shifting slightly against the warm body you were snuggling.
“Hi,” Kento reached down, stroking your cheek with one hand while he held a book in the other. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mhmm.” you snuggled into his side, breathing in the smell of salt water. “I had a terrible nightmare. I almost died.”
Kento’s warm hand brushed gently over your cheek. “It’s a good thing it was only a dream.” He whispered, bring your face up to him. “I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, love.”
“Mhm, I love you, Kento.”
“And I love you.”
Slowly lifting your head, you grinned at him as he kissed you deeply. He was sitting on a beach towel under an umbrella. The sound of ocean waves crashing over the shore had you fading further into the reality you had made. Where you and Nanami finally got out of Japan and made a life on a tiny island somewhere far away.
A beach somewhere far away, where you could spend your days walking the shore, enjoying the sweet ocean air. This was a place where Nanami could be free. Somewhere far, far away from all the blood and death the two of you had faced—a little slice of heaven.
And it was a reality that didn't exist.
Blinking in your summer oasis, your vision became clearer. Ocean waves turned into the chirping of medical machines and heavy snoring. The warmth of the sand was the warmth of blankets covering you. And the smell of Nanami was because your boyfriend was sleeping in a chair beside your hospital bed.
Disorientation overcame you as you sat up, wincing at the stiffness of muscles and pain in your stomach. Your mouth was too dry, and your head was pounding. What had happened? Where were you? How long have you been out?
“Ken?” your voice was hoarse and broken, but the man next to you jolted.
Dark circles had formed under his eyes as he jumped out of his chair, his hands cupping your face. His honey-brown eyes, which had been filled with anger the last time you saw him, were now filled with utter relief. He pulled you into his chest, his hands gently stroking your hair back as you shuddered, a sob working his way up his throat.
“I thought I lost you.” He whispered, his voice broken. “I almost fuckin’ lost you.”
His relief was contagious; you felt yourself easing into him, crying softly into his chest as he crawled into the bed with you. His arms gently wrap around you, cradling you into his body. No words needed to be spoken; the touch and sobs you both shared conveyed every regret and emotion you both had been feeling.
You were lucky to be alive, thanks to Nita’s quick work and the work of the doctors at the local hospital. They kept you in a stable condition long enough for Shoko and Nanami to take the soonest plane to Okinawa. Shoko helped speed up the healing process, and you were released three days later. During those three days, neither you nor Nanami brought up the previous fight. Which you were grateful for until he helped you into your shared apartment. As he shut the door, placing your bags in the living room, you sighed.
“Kento, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.” he agreed, following you into the bedroom, where the two of you sat on the bed. “I would like to—”
“No, I'm going to start.” You interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. “Kento, I-I’m so sorry I acted as I did. I was frustrated and angry, and—” You swallowed hard, “I realized you were only looking out for me, and instead of taking your words to heart, I twisted them into something they weren't. S-So if you want to end this, to find a more ideal partner, I understand.”
Nanami gently interlaced his fingers with yours. “I said some terrible things myself. I know you're strong, love, and capable of going on missions and taking care of yourself. But I will always tell you the truth. If something looks difficult to me, that says a lot.” The truth hurts as you nod, swallowing even harder. “That being said, my agreement to find a more suitable housewife was immature and moronic of me. You're the only wife I want in my life.”
He cupped your cheeks, kissing you as softly as he could. “K-Kento? You mean that?” The words came out as a blubbering mess as he laid you down on the bed, fingers grazing under your shirt.
“Every single word, I love you; you're the only wife I want.”
“I-I love you too, Kento.”
Nanami gently pushed you back against the bed, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands gently ran up and down your sides. “I want to worship every part of your body.” Hands slid under your shirt, gently grabbing the fabric, tugging it up and over your head. “You're such a beautiful love. I adore you; you're the best thing that ever happened to me.”
You shivered as his hands trailed over the large scar on your stomach, gently caressing it. “K-Kento~” He sat back, allowing you to remove his shirt before he trailed kisses over every single inch of exposed skin.
“I want to make love to you. I need to caress you,
Feel you, and adore you.”
Nanami trailed kisses over your shoulders as he slotted himself between your legs with a groan. Seeing the arch you squirmed and arched against him was all the encouragement Nanami needed to keep going. He slid his hand into your panties, gently rubbing circles around your clit, making you buck against his hand.
“I can't lose you; I need you in my life.” His sweet words had you moaning louder than his fingers plunging inside of you. “It’s you; it’ll always be you, baby.”
Nanami was true to his words. He worshiped you with his tongue, fingers, and lips. Bringing you over the edge countless times before he finally began passing his thick girthy cock into you with a groan. Once the tip is inside, you both inhale sharply. Your eyes were boring into each other, fingers interlacing.
The air is thick with lust and passion as Nanami slowly sets a steady pace. He was continuing to slide into you before he finally bottomed out. His back muscles twitched as he groaned against your lips, staying buried inside of you as you lazily kissed each other.
“B-Babbyy~”
“Y-You feel so good inside of me, Kento~”
“And you feel fucking perfect wrapped around me, my love.” His lips find yours, slotting against yours in a deep passionate kiss; the sweet lingering fast of coffee and sweetbreads flood your mouth as he starts thrusting deeply into your tight pussy with a grunt.
Nanami is slowly and sensually fucking into you. His mouth against yours, both your whines and moans getting lost in the other's mouth: you had made life countless times before, but this time was different. It was different because Nanami put his entire heart and soul into each kiss and thrust. He was cautious of how tight he squeezed your fingers while paying attention to the quest your body gave him. The man was putting his everything into his movements.
And you could taste it, god, it was so sweet. The gentleness, the softness in his groans as he gently rocked into you. While his hands gently caressed you. This was perfect; it was the literal embodiment of true love. A love that you would never in a million years let slip away.
“K-Kento~ I-Im not going to last m-much longer.”
“Me neither.” he gasped against your mouth as his hips bucked faster, the bed creaking under the two of you with his thrusts. “Cum with me~ I need to feel you cum around my cock~ I need to feel it~ please love, please~”
“K-Ken~! Ken~!” You cried out in-between kisses as he fucked you into an intense orgasm. He gritted his teeth as your walls pulsated around him, drawing him over the edge with you. Your name left his lips like a prayer as he filled you with his cum fucking it as deep as your body would allow.
Kenton only stopped when you both were a sweaty heap of entangled limbs. “M-Mmm, fuck, I love you,” Kento whispered, pushing strands of your hair out of your face. “I love you so damn much~ please don't ever leave me.” he pressed his head against yours, breathing in every breath you exhaled as you both came down from your orgasmic bliss.
“I-I won't.” You whispered against his lips as he moved, grabbing your left hand. “I swear, Nanami.”
He shifted, reaching for something under his pillow. Your heart lurched as you felt him slide a ring onto your finger. Glancing down at it, you choked on your gasp as a glittering diamond ring shone on your finger.
“Say it again.”
“I swear I'll never leave you.” you kissed him deeply. “I love you~ I love you so much~!”
“I love you too, god I love you.” Nanami kissed you, his future wife, as hard as possible without hurting you. “We’ll be together forever.” His hips rocked gently into you.
You made love all day. Gently kissing each other until you both finally laid down to rest in the last afternoon. Nanami softly snored as he held you, and you just laid there, basking in the afterglow of sex and the elation of being engaged. Your diamond ring glittered in the sunlight shining through the window before you curled into Nanami’s chest, sighing happily.
Being with him like this, was your own personal paradise that you never wanted to leave.
282 notes · View notes
daycourtofficial · 1 day
Text
Amber eyes, looking into mine
Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?
Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee
TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt
Word count: ~1k
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A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.
His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.
It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.
The night hadn’t ended there.
Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.
“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears. 
Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.
Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.
Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed. 
His eyes.
What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.
Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.
If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?
The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?
All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.
He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.
He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.
Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore. 
The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off. 
Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.
He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.
Five.
He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.
Four.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.
Three.
It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-
He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.
He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.
He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.
And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father. 
Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.
Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.
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dilutedconfusion · 3 days
Text
A Moth to a Flame
Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 5)
Summary: It’s the morning after. Not the kind of morning where you wake up in somebody else’s bed but the kind where you’re wounded and in a cot. Kid is feeling bad. You’re feeling bad. Let’s see how the two of you handle the wretched ‘what happened last night’ conversation.
Warnings: Mentions of blood & broken bones
Word Count: a blasphemous 9k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem @thesnailus @shamblespirate @gabi-moureira @ferretsqueen
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A kaleidoscope of colors took up your worldview.
Swirling in an endless grace of sweet blues, deep rich greens, and soft mellow browns. None of them were very recognizable shape-wise. Each was holding something akin to maybe a building floating on its axis or a flower harshly bent at the stem. Either way, you didn’t care.
Eyes heavy with every tear you had ever cried in your lifetime somehow pressed against your pupil. The world cast ripples in your vision until they slowly turned into something more recognizable. Something that felt like home.
Or at least a very small portion of it.
“Just stay here. Don’t make a sound no matter what you hear okay?”
Your Dad's voice floated towards you warm and reassuringly like it always was. Soft eyes followed by his large hand reaching out to hold yours. Your round eyes blinked trying to see him. See him past the water ripples clouding your vision. You felt a warm liquid slide softly down your cheeks before the rippling water gave way.
“Pumpkin, it's okay. We’ve practiced this, remember? Nothing to be worried about, I'll come get you when it’s over.”
You were somewhere mostly dark. The walls were tight and small around you. Your father bent down on one knee, looking into the small wooden cave you reside in. A bright light behind him filtered through his hair softly. Looking down you felt his big hand tighten around your rather small one. Small and soft like it was new to the world. You squeezed his hand back with what little strength you had, urging him not to leave you alone again for just this once.
“D-Dad don’t leave me.” With each word that slipped past your tongue, it sputtered out messily. Your voice was high-pitched and whiny. Desperately wanting to just claw onto the man in front of you so he wouldn’t have the chance to leave. But you also supposed that he was holding onto your hand so tight so that you couldn’t move. So you couldn’t fight to stay with him.
“Baby we’ve been through this I can’t-” a loud rousing of yells erupted from nearby. The piercing sounds of gunfire broke any sense of peace. Each shattering echo made you flinch violently with every draw. Your father turned his head off to the left, eyes trained carefully at something in the room before he looked back at you. All that reassuring love once smeared on his face was gone. Instead that dreaded worry had replaced it.
He let go of your hand quickly. Bringing his hand closer to his torso so you didn’t have a chance to grip him. “I need to go. Stay here. Be silent. Don’t come out unless you hear our secret knock.”
You barely even heard him when he spoke. Barely even processed anything that was happening. All you could hear was your heartbeat twitching in your ears and the sounds of yelling outside.
It made a lump form in your throat. Lunging to either wail or scream or do something. To just do anything but you remained silent. That look in your father's eyes wouldn’t allow anything but silence and you knew that.
So he quickly grabbed something off the wall, using it to close the gap between you and the rest of the world. Between you and him.
Darkness slowly seeped into your space until nothing but a slit of light was fluttering through. Your Dads face peeking in one last time.“I love you Y/N.” He whispered, his voice soft and delicate against your ears like a stray feather floating in the wind.
But before you could even manage to speak he shut the door completely. Leaving you alone with the silence and the screams once again.
__________
Unlike all your other dreams this one didn’t cause you to wake up in a panic. Covered in sweat, your eyes groggily peeled themselves open. Met with just an average wooden ceiling in your view.
Your head was light as if it was full of helium. The corners of your vision were covered in a soft vignette just daring you to fall back asleep. Daring you to slip back into the comfortable numbness. To go back into the hiding place you had so long ago.
That is until you felt a sharp pain erupt in your chest when you breathed in a little too deep. In a rush, you tried to sit up. Contracting your muscles as always but instead of a smooth arising, a sharp pain stabbed at the center of your chest. A yelp escaped your lips and your back immediately stiffened against the cot once more. Jaw clenched in pain as you felt the raw flesh of your throat and lungs. It was like a cat had crawled inside you and scratched down your throat making you regret having made a single noise.
With your head propped up on a thin pillow, you manage to crane your neck to look at the rest of the room.
Am I in a med bay?
It was a small space and there was only one other cot on the other side of the room. The walls only held a whiteboard with some kind of tally marks and a covered window. A couple of counters and cabinets lined tightly right next to you. A mess of what looked like gauze, bandages, and tubs of what you supposed were ointment splayed out. Other than that you were left wishing for more discernible features about where in the hell you are.
Someone had been in here. Someone helped me. Where the hell are they now and what happened?
Being weak and vulnerable in a place you didn’t recognize wasn’t your ideal wake-up situation. But you also supposed whoever brought you here had helped you out. However, that didn’t make the sense of unease in your gut settle down much.
Fingers and palms splaying against the canvas of the cot you tried to ease yourself up yet again. Going at it a bit slower this time yet the second you applied some pressure you hissed in pain. Your hands stinging like sharp needles were tracing each fine line.
Taking your hands off the cot in a swift motion you stared at them now hovering gently above your face. They were both laced tightly with soft yet slightly scratchy bandages. An inkblot test of what you could only assume was blood seeping through parts of them.
I got injured on my literal fucking hands. My stupid hands of all places. What the hell did I do? Fight a raccoon or something?
Rolling your eyes you decided to trace your body for injuries before you tried to sit up again. Hands tracing over your shirt as you looked down at your body.
Wait a minute. Your hands paused, picking up the fabric of your shirt and lifting it closer to your face. This is not my shirt.
Eyes widening to panic you quickly let go of your shirt and felt down your hips to meet the hem of your pants. And these are not my pants.
You were in what seemed to be some spare clothes. Your underwear was still gratefully intact but the rest was just a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt one size too small.
Mouth agape and staring at the ceiling a warm wave of embarrassment washed over you. The apples of your cheeks and the nausea in your gut only getting worse.
Rubbing your hands over your face you tried to hold back any and all complaints. Your voice was fried and no matter how much you wanted to kick yourself and cry about it you just couldn’t.
As you shifted on the cot your hair hit the side of your face. A strong scent that you instantly noticed was the sea lapping at your nose. Your nose scrunched up as you paused your pity fest to sniff at it more tentatively. Not only did your hair smell like seawater, but so did your skin itself. Like you’d been sleeping in a bed of seaweed all night and hadn’t noticed.
Did I go for a swim or something? Gosh did I drown? Even thinking that made you swallow hard. Shame and dread at the fact that you might've done something unwise yet again. But drowning.
The undertones of that world sunk and swallowed your gut hole. Leaving you breathless in the worst of ways as a downpour of shame filled the dips and hills of your mind.
I remember being cold last night. I remember going to that bar. I remember walking home but then I must’ve done something. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Avoiding the imminent doom looming around you, you slipped your hand under your shirt. Immediately feeling the same tight bandage on your side and the center of your chest.
Great so I either have one or two broken bones. You softly rubbed the bandage on your side. Feeling the stark marks of what felt like torn flesh underneath. It wasn’t aching that badly but you knew if you tried to get up again it would.
Bracing yourself for the waves of pain pinching at your flesh you sat up finally. Eyeing the door across the room with small tears pricking your eyes. Your legs surprisingly didn’t hurt at all. They felt tired and worn out as you slung them over the edge of the cot. Yet when you stood up not a shot of pain erupted from anywhere.
Well, that’s good. Just upper body stuff then. You thought, holding onto the cot to try and find your balance. You could feel your body heaving a bit. Which finally let you take notice of the slight sway your body held. However, you couldn’t tell if it was just you being uneasy or the rest of the room swaying along with you.
This…feels familiar. A wave of nostalgia washed over you. Something so distant in your memory yet so raw with emotion. Looking at the window across the room a thought came to mind.
Am I on a boat?
It was a porthole with a blind shut over it. You were almost a bit afraid to go to that window. To open that stupid shade blocking out the warm light of day just to see something maybe you didn’t want to see.
No no no…I’m not on a boat. Why would I be on a boat? This person just likes porthole windows. Weird decorative choice but I’m not one to judge.
Your body crept towards it. A funny yet scared-looking smile tugging at the corners of your lips. If you didn’t see land on the other side of the window something in you was going to snap.
If I just see nothing but ocean on the other side of that window and not even a speck of island then…
You pinched the blind between your pointer and thumb. Lightly tugging on it until it naturally sprung upwards. A wave of light hitting your eyes as you licked your dry lips nervously.
Oh, thank the fucking lord. The docks of your home island were off to your left. The village was out of your line of sight but there was no mistaking the woods and shoreline you’d come to know as home.
Yet this sense of relief didn’t last long. The swaying of your body wasn’t all you then. Nearly pressing your nose to the glass you saw the soft churn of waves hit the hull below you.
So I’m on someone’s boat. A big boat clearly. A stranger's boat. You couldn’t see anything to identify whose boat you were on from this point of view. The window wasn’t the kind that opened so you were stuck just knowing the bare minimum of your situation.
I haven’t been on a ship in…
A growing wave of nausea hit your stomach again. Pitching forward as an unreasonable wave of panic stretches across you.
Walking staggerly to the door you reached out to open it. Giving only a moment's notice to listen quietly for any sound on the other side before quietly turning the knob and peering out.
It was a hallway that stretched out to your left and right. Even if you hadn’t seen the ocean on the other side of that window you still would’ve been able to tell this was a boat from the hallway.
The slightly lower ceilings, the wood paneling making every surface, the lanterns hung up periodically, and the few dozen scratches or patched-up holes from fights. It was tight and it smelled of the sea through faint drafts.
It's as if it had been ripped straight out of your childhood. Taunting you in an eerie reminder of what you were and somehow still suffocating as always.
I have to get out of here.
Without a thought you headed towards your left, closing the med bay door softly behind you. You needed to find a way onto the main deck and though you didn’t know your way around all you needed to find was a set of stairs.
If I’m on the lower side of the hull I gotta be at least one level down. Maybe one or two sets of stairs and I’m out of here.
With panic lacing your heels you noticed an open section of wall lining your right. You hurried towards it as fast as your weak body could manage before turning to see a beloved stairwell leading up. With bated breath, you started to climb it. Your side and chest aching from each little movement. The stairs creaking in some spots which only built upon the nerves ailing you.
When you finally breached onto the upper level you found nothing but another hallway to scour. Though you noticed this hallway was lined with windows unlike the last. Like a projector slide flashing between images, you saw those same windows filled with nothing but the sky and sea. Blurry silhouettes of men much taller than you walking past. Their rough visages and kind smiles just after visions in the blinding light. You blinked in a rush, rubbing over the space of your eyes and fumbling along the hallway.
It was like all the blood had been drained from your body. Weak and lightheaded you swayed with each step. Daring to pass out as another strong wave of nausea wrestled with your gut. It swelled into a deep ache that had you nearly hunched over. Grabbing your stomach tightly and using the wall for support as you shuffled along.
You couldn’t tell why this was happening. Well, you had a good guess but this sudden enveloping feeling constricting your throat was one you’ve had before. Another set of flash card images blurring your vision in memory of your father's much younger face, kneeled to look at you. Looking down the hallway you saw a door at its end. A bright light seeped through the slits and cast warm dusty rays across the floor.
I just need some fresh air. Some fresh air will fix this. I’ll be fine.
Yet this excruciating hallway seemed to be getting tighter and tighter with each step. You watched as the wall groaned as it crept closer toward your hobbled figure. Breath gasping in succession as fear arrogates your veins.
I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. This thought was a sledgehammer driving into the front of your brain. Forcing you closer and closer to the door until that 30 feet became one and you were a step away from some sense of freedom. With a sweat-covered brow and a shaky hand, you pushed the door open with a loud creak.
Like a flash bomb, the sun hit your face and you could breathe once more.
__________
Kid hadn’t woken up feeling fresh and relieved. He hadn’t woken up with his body feeling in the best shape it's ever been. No aching, no crawling nerve pain, no head thumping like a toddler slapping the shit out of a drum. If he would just lie to himself a little then all of that could be true.
The fact that he had gotten around maybe 5 hours of sleep because he had to stay up in the med bay getting all his bandages replaced wasn’t real. The fact that Killer had to wake up Hip, the only semi-medic on their ship, to clean his stitches wasn’t real. The fact that instead of the screaming fight Kid was expecting from Killer, he was met with silence. Silence that spoke a thousand words of disappointment and shame. Leaving the Kid wishing they would’ve just punched it out like they always did.
But what Kid didn’t want to think was real. The thing that absolutely could not be real under any circumstances was the fact that he had brought a girl home. Not the kind of girl wanting cheap sex and some fake affection for just one night. Now that would’ve been normal. If anything maybe that's what he needed on his little break.
Yet instead of a girl dressed in lust, it was the kind that he was forced to stare at for an hour on the other side of the room. The kind that had burned into his retinas so he could see his mistake even when he closed his eyes. A big human-sized mistake just laying there like a corpse daring him to think she was real.
Because the second he reached his ship with you in tow he was hit over the head with a reality anvil. One that broke through the layer of alcohol, delusion, and sadness wrapped around his skull.
They didn’t know whether to treat their captain or the barely alive girl first. Why waste medical supplies on a stranger? So when he had watched Hip look her over he had barely paid attention to her words. Asking him what had happened and why he had brought her back. Though when Kid was finally excused, his body two steps away from slamming against the ground, he gave the fake girl one last look. Hips back to him as her hands traced over the figment of his imagination to check if she was even alive. She had been breathing softly the whole time Kid was forced to get fixed up but she was still dead asleep.
A part of him hoped she wouldn't wake up just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning.
But of course, morning had come to Kids begrudging dismay. Tossing around in sheets that now reeked of the sea because he hadn’t bothered to take a shower. He smelled, looked, and felt horrible.
I’d rather get beat by a bat than deal with this.
So little to say he started his day in a slump. The late morning did little to motivate him as he washed himself clean and then went to the kitchen to down a jug's worth of water. Dribbles of it spilled down his chin and onto the black tank top he wore. The loose swaying of shorts at his hips and the soft meandering steps of some flip flops gracing the halls.
Thankfully everyone else on the crew had started the day off by going into town to get the shopping done and over with. Kid could nearly see the stacked-up crates lining the dock outside in his near future. Yet he knew if he tried to help he’d get shooed away like some sort of child.
If they want me to be lazy I’ll be fucking lazy. I’m tired of trying.
With black coffee steaming gently out of the cup in his hand he sat down at one of the many tables in the mess hall. Trying to avoid the still very apparent problem that was probably still dead asleep just a floor below him.
He didn’t know what to make of last night. To him, it almost seemed like he was an entirely different person. One that wanted to wallow instead of rise to the challenge. One that wanted to give up instead of fight. One that wanted to save some girl because he could.
What the fuck is wrong with me? He rubbed over his face and brushed back his still slightly damp hair. No goggles to hold it up so it hung a tad bit looser around his face.
I saved one stranger and for what? For her to wake up and give me her thanks? I don’t give a shit about her. I don’t even know that bitches name.
There was no weaseling his way out of knowing why he had saved you. His choice to do it was entirely emotions-based instead of logic. There was no gain, no plan, no need for him to do anything when you fell into the sea.
I just...I just...Kid could barely think the words into existence let alone say it out loud. It’s one of the many reasons Killer had gone silent last night. Because no matter how many times he asked Kid why he did it, Kid couldn’t find an answer.
Kid’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft thudding of shoes walking down the hall. His body naturally froze as he heard the all too familiar footstep pattern of his first mate.
Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the crew? Shouldn’t he have left?
A sky blue and cream-colored mask came into sight as Killer rounded through the doorway. Taking a second to look Kid over but otherwise disregarding him as he turned sharply towards the open doorway of the kitchen. Not a single word leaving his lips.
Great. Now he's going to give me the cold shoulder then huh?
“So what? You’re just not going to talk to me?” Kid questioned demeaningly, a lick of vulnerability swirling underneath the thin surface of his tone.
Killer slowed to a stop, turning his head to gander once more at the redhead's large body filling up a small portion of the mess hall. “No. I just wanted coffee.” His voice was smooth and simple but Kid could still hear the underlying sarcasm he was barely holding back.
Kid clicked his tongue softly. Hardballing Killer as if he had said the most idiotic thing in the world. “So you decided to stay on the boat for some coffee? Shouldn’t you be out there? You’re the one in charge of the restock anyways.”
Killer’s voice punched out a little more than before. As if he was just now fully waking up. “I am but I thought you’d need me here. Can’t leave you alone with our little...problem.”
Is he tired? This thought floated in and out of Kids' brain immediately. Killer was always an early bird compared to him. But he knew if he could see past that mask of his, he might see the unusual purple hue sagging below Killer's eyes.
“I can handle it just fine. I’m going to give it a bit. Drink my goddamn coffee and then go down there and throw our problem out. Simple.” Kid’s voice didn’t sound as resolute as he hoped it would. He didn’t have a plan on how to handle this. He barely wanted to speak to the woman let alone throw her overboard, especially with all the injuries she held.
Injuries and death that me and my crew saved her from. Kid swiped his fingers over his eyes. Rubbing them to let the darkness behind his eyelids swirl.
Killer let out a low grumble and scratched the back of his head. Tufts of blonde hair getting frizzy as his voice became even more fatigued. “Is that right? Well, I think you’ll need me. If only to make sure you two don’t argue and she hopefully just leaves.”
Kid just stared blankly at Killer. Using the small amount of brain power he had left to look him over. He is tired. He only stayed up for an hour to watch me when I was getting patched up. Why the hell does he sound like that?
“Whatever. You don't think I can handle one girl so don’t fucking give me that.” Kid picked up his coffee mug. Taking a slow sip as he tentatively eyed his first mate.
Killer paused before he spoke. Chewing his lips a bit and turning back towards the kitchen doorway. Walking over to it and still talking to Kid despite the distance. “You can handle one girl but I don’t think you can handle one girl that you saved. She’s going to ask questions about what happened and why you did it. I’m going to be there to give answers when you inevitably fuck up and don’t say anything.”
Kids' eyes widened at that. A rush of embarrassment and a bit of anger rose to his cheeks. Taking another quick gulp of his coffee before cocking his head to the side. “You don’t know what I’m going to do. She doesn’t deserve any fucking answers so what does it matter anyways? You don’t have to be her shrink and tell her it's going to be alright.”
Killer's body slipped past the doorway and out of Kid's sight. Letting him only faintly listen to the sounds of him grabbing a mug and picking up the coffee jug. “Well if she was persistent about speaking to us last night then I doubt she won’t be this morning. You’re giving a psychotic fangirl a chance at being on our ship. Better yet the guy she wanted to talk to saved her. She’s going to ask questions. Questions I know you don’t want to answer.”
Killer spoke just loud enough for Kid to hear him. Kids face contorting more and more into pure and utter annoyance at the obvious facts that Killer was spilling. “She’s not a fangirl. We don’t have fans Killer were fucking pirates for Christ's sake.” Kid protested, his voice barely audible to Killer's ears.
“Yes, she is. She followed us last night. I know she messed with you or whatever. But love can often get mistaken for hatred. She probably just lied to herself for an excuse to be around us.”
Kid's eyes nearly popped out of his skull hearing that. The grip against his mug becoming firmer and firmer as he watched Killer stride back into sight. Now holding a steaming cup of coffee and heading over towards him.
“Don’t fucking say that to me.” That was all Kid could manage. If he said anything more than that a blood vessel might pop and he’d be left with the bloodshot eyes of an insane man.
Love can get mistaken for hatred? What the fuck is Killer on right now?
Killer eased down into the chair across from Kid. His mug thudding softly against the wooden table and a low grunt of discomfort rolling off his tongue.“What? Don’t you think that girl was flirting with you? I thought about it last night and it seemed weird. Like she had some sort of other agenda about why she was talking to you besides the whole ‘her being worried about you pillaging the town’ or whatever.”
As Killer settled in with his hand holding up his head by the soft fur of his chin, Kid was tensing up. His jaw stretched and snapped tight like he had to pry it open with a crowbar before speaking. His cheeks turning that uncharacteristically shy shade of red. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re telling me this. She can have whatever agenda she wants. I just don’t ever want to deal with her or see her ever again.”
Killer couldn’t help but find Kid's reaction a bit amusing even if it was surprising. Kid wasn’t one for affection and Killer knew that. That’s why seeing Kid turn red at the thought of this girl's supposed crush was extra funny. So much so that he couldn’t help but make it a little worse. “Then why are you getting red in the face? You’ve had girls swoon over you before. Is it just the fact that this one might want to get into your pants that bothers you?”
“Killer I’m going to reach over this table and rip your head off if you keep this up.”
Killer's tired demeanor became much more mischievous. A wry smile tugged at his lips and he leaned forward to speak in a sarcastic yet smooth and romantic way. “I bet it was amazing for her last night though. A big strong man comes to save her just at the right time-”
“Kil I swear to god-”
“Both of you were drenched and grasping onto one another. Looking into each other's eyes and whispering sweet nothings in the moonlight-”
“Killer shut the fuck up-”
“That girl was probably so turned on she was rubbing her thighs together. Wishing you’d just take her-”
“KILLER!” Killer got fully cut off when Kid lunged at him. Standing up and taking his first mate by the collar to tug him forward. Nearly knocking over his coffee in the process as Kid snarled at him.
Killer could barely hold back a laugh. Smiling wildly underneath his mask he softly patted Kid's arms to ease him off him. “Ah okay okay sorry. Couldn’t help myself. It’s payback for last night anyways.”
Kid's hand slowly loosened up. His cheeks burned a bright fiery red as he sat back down in his seat. Steam nearly puffed out of his nose as he took a deep breath. “Yeah? Well, it's a stupid fucking way to get your payback. It wasn’t like that. Quit making me out to be some kind of hero asshole.”
Killer eyed his captain in a attentive yet loving way. He loved whenever he got a chance to get under his skin like this.
And maybe this does make up for last night. We don’t have to focus on our fight. Just the girl.
“Well, I’m not letting it go. You saved some girl and brought her home. That’s hero behavior for sure,” Kid looked at Killer dead on, his face going slack with annoyance again. It made Killer pause for a moment feeling just a tad bit guilty, “But maybe it wasn’t romantic at all for her. Forget all that shit I said about love or whatever. I was just spitballing ideas anyway.”
“Well, I could tell. Saying that shit like you had any idea what you were talking about.” Kid rolled his eyes and finished off the last of his coffee. Letting the smooth and bitter liquid roll down into his stomach to gain an ounce of motivation for the day ahead.
Killer took a smooth sip of his coffee through the little bendy straw he brought along. Just nodding his head like he agreed though he was still pretty sure something more was going on with you.
Or maybe all that blushing means something more is going on with Kid.
A sudden loud noise erupted down the hall. It sounded close but at the same time echoed through the small enclosure and into the ears of the two men sitting idly together. Kid's body perked up, looking over at the doorway out into the hall expectantly.
“Is there anyone else on the ship right now?” Kid mumbled, looking over at Killer who had put his mug down almost instantly. Staring at the doorway more hesitantly than Kid.
“No. Just us. Everyone already left. I made sure of it.” They both looked over at each other. Their shared brain cells functioned at a slower rate before they both came to the same conclusion.
“It’s the girl.” Kid whispered, Killer's head nodding in agreement as they both started to stand up and head out into the hall. Kids empty mug and Killers half full one long forgotten as they walked towards the source of the sound.
“Goddamn, I was hoping she’d just stay asleep.” Kid mumbled to himself more than anything. Picking up the pace a bit as two sets of heels rampantly thudded against the wood below.
“I think it came from on deck.” Killer's voice was quiet. Mimicking the hesitation Kid's voice held. If they thought about it enough, they should be making their presence known. Yelling so she didn’t think she could run off with one of their possessions if that's what she wanted. But if they didn’t make their presence known, then maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with her. She could slink away on he own accord without talking to them.
It was a juxtaposition between hesitation and necessity as they reached a door. Pushing it open and stepping out together to scan the deck. A chill ran down Kid's spine as he felt the brisk wind hit his bare legs. Within an instant, he saw you but of course, you had a habit of surprising him at this point.
“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath. Panting softly as you clenched tightly onto the banister of the stairs leading down to the lowest part of the deck. Your face was a shade paler than usual. The blood ran cold inside of you as you desperately tried to pretend you hadn’t slipped on the stairs not a minute ago.
“H-Hey guys. What’s up?” Kid could instantly tell by your voice that you were hanging on by a thread.
Well, I think anyone with eyes could tell she’s a fucking mess.
“What are you doing?” Left Kid's lips before he could even really contemplate what was happening. Walking closer to the upper edge of the stairs to look down at you. Killer in tow with his hands crossed over his wide chest.
You looked between the two large men like you had done the first time you met them. The blondie is still quiet and reserved. The redhead, or Kid you supposed, is demeaning and talkative.
They’re already tall enough. They didn’t have to take the high ground for Christ's sake.
“Nothing.” Kids' eyebrows of course rose at that. Leaving you stuttering to come up with something that didn’t sound stupid. “I mean not nothing but definitely something. I don’t know.” Your body swayed a bit as you gripped the banister even tighter. You’re fingertips turned a shade whiter as you swallowed down what felt like oncoming nausea.
Did they kidnap me? Is that the only reason why they decided to patch me up was to sell me off? I can’t just tell them I’m leaving if that's the case.
“Well, you falling on the stairs doesn’t seem like nothing.” When the blondie spoke it almost partly startled you, it was the first time you could hear his voice. It was similar to Kids as if they were from the same area. But it was slightly higher and more raspy in tone. It almost made you forget what the man had even said. A blush rose to your cheeks as you shook your head defensively.
“Well, I’d like to see you try to walk down some stairs with wounds and nausea asshole.” That slipped past your tongue before you could even reel it back in. Still holding on for dear life as the panic seemingly never wanted to settle in your veins. “I feel like I got gutted. What the hell happened to me?”
Killer didn’t mind being called an asshole, he's been called much worse. But watching you spit that out with such a raw look of utter exhaustion and frustration on your face was a bit much. You seemed to be falling apart right in front of him for some reason.
Was she hurt that bad?
“What the fuck is with you? Are you about to keel over right now?” Kid took Killer's thoughts right out of his mind. The girl had barely walked that far from the med bay but she seemed to be sweating and breathing heavily like she had run a mile.
You frowned at the two men, taking a deep and shaky breath before you spoke. “I don’t like it on this ship. I want off and I want to know what happened.”
Whilst Kid's eyebrows furrowed, Killers raised. Confusion struck both of them at the mere fact that you didn’t seem to remember the events of last night. “So you don’t remember?” Killer asked calmly, taking a hesitant step down the stairs towards you. You’re shaky pupils locking onto him in fear.
“No, I don't remember. I don’t remember anything past…the walking home I think. What the fuck did you people do? Beat me and dunk me in water?”
The instant you said that Kids' anger rose from about an average 5 to an 8 out of 10. His one good hand clenched into a white line of knuckles as he stepped down the stairs in a stomping motion towards you. “We didn’t fucking beat you dumbass! We helped you. If I wanted to beat you I’d do a much better job than the fucking ocean did.”
The second Kid started stomping down the stairs towards you, you turned around. Finishing off the last couple of steps with trembling knees and scurrying out into the middle of the deck a good distance away from him. “Stay the fuck away from me!” You yelled putting your hands up defensively even though you felt like a pile of Play-Doh.
Kid paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Clicking his tongue and watching you with predator-like precision. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”
If your frown couldn’t get any deeper then somehow it found a way. Your throat tightening up like his huge fist was somehow already around you. “What do you mean the ocean? I..drowned didn’t I?” You ignored his other comments. This man didn’t deserve a thank you until you knew what had happened.
“Yes, you fucking did brat. Your fatass fell into the ocean. You ended up here with a fresh set of bandages.”
You barely even registered the insults he was throwing your way. Just swallowing hard as he called you a fatass before wearily speaking once more.“But…how…how did I end up falling into the ocean?” Your voice became a hint softer, frustration bleeding into sadness and maybe even regret.
“Because you’re an idiot that's why. You thought the jetty was a walkway and got swallowed up. It's all your fault so don’t blame me.”
Kids' harsh words hit you hard. Eyes daring to prick with tears as you took a minute to just settle into what you had learned. A weak and bandaged hand raked through your hair as you stared at the ground below you. “Shit.”
The two men just watched you work through it. Both of them having a hard time trying to understand why the hell you seemed so sad about it.
What the hell is wrong with this girl?
“Quit being a brat and dwelling in it. You survived and because you survived you get the honor of personally walking off my ship all by yourself like a big girl.” No matter how hard Kid tried he couldn’t strain himself to be any more reassuring than that. It's not like he wanted to be reassuring but you seemed to be an absolute mess in need of a push. A push off his ship that is.
And though Kid was taking a more aggressive approach Killer couldn’t help but notice the turmoil you were in. Walking past Kid and slowly approaching you with as much benign energy as he could. “Are you okay?”
You looked horrible. Face still a shade paler and your eyes glossed over somewhat. The clothes they had given you stuck to your skin with sweat. Your body swayed even more as if you were caught in a much stronger current than the one currently rocking at the boat.
His voice barely reached your ears. Those same memories, visions, and blood-curdling screams drowning you out. The warm fire on your skin. The ice-cold water in your blood. You tried not to pay attention to it. Eyelashes fluttered closed as you rubbed over your eyes. The darkness did little to help you as you stumbled backward.
Something took hold of Kid's heels as he walked closer to you. Stepping past Killer to land just a few feet in front of you. His chin tilted down to leer at you though his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Trying to pierce through the strange weak form of a woman you had become.
“What’s wrong? You’re fine. It can’t hurt that bad if you’re walking.” He spoke, his voice a bit quieter yet still just as harsh.
What the hell is she doing? Faking this shit for sympathy? Nothing bad is happening.
Hearing Kids' deep voice so close startled you out of your stupor. Your shoulders twitching as you finally slip your hands off your face to look up at him.
Kids eyes widened seeing wet crystal-like tears on the ridges of your eyes. Mouth going slightly agape and eyebrows raising in what you assumed was disgust.
“I’m fine. I can handle the pain. Just get me off this ship.”
Kid was confused to say the least.
Is she crying because she got hurt or because…she doesn’t want to be near me? Because she wishes it wasn’t me that saved her? For some reason that thought made his mind blare red. You’re once helpless figure now cast in something weak and greedy in his mind. A leech on the stray strands of his kindness that he felt like plucking and squishing to death between his fingers.
“Are a few screws loose up there or something? Why the hell are you crying? I let you on my ship that you were drooling over. I used my supplies to bandage you up. I gave you my precious and invaluable attention for more than a few minutes. I even risked my life to save your ass. You should be fucking thankful not crying.”
Killer's mask glided between the two of you. Your face scrunched up in confusion as your lips parted to speak. But before you could utter a single word he piped up. “Kid, what are you doing? I told you I could handle this.” Both you and Kid looked over at him like you had forgotten he was even there. A deep scowl turning more rich with wrath as Kid eyed Killer.
“I’m doing what I fucking want to. I told you I didn’t need your help.” Kid stormed closer, forehead laced with lines as he kept breaching the gap between you and him.
You couldn’t help but look at Kid with even more confusion. Phasing past his words speaking of your ungrateful self to focus on one part that didn’t quite make sense. “Wait did you just say you...saved me? Were you the one that found me?” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand in a quick motion you took a tiny step closer to the man. Not at all afraid of that look of wrath he seemed to be fostering in his eyes.
It was Kid's turn to feel a spike of panic as his cheeks daringly went a shade red. “N-No I didn’t save you! You’re a fucking idiot to assume I’d save someone as worthless as you. I would let you drown without a thought so don’t get me wrong and quit avoiding the question. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Despite the obvious turmoil you were feeling, another round of anger splashed into the cesspool of your mind. “Nothing is wrong with me! I’m fine. I just don’t like being on ships. I need to get the fuck off this thing like right now.” You looked away from Kid, shuffling towards the nearest banister parallel to the dock.
With one brutal step Kid bounded towards you once again. Spit flying past his red-painted lips as he spoke. “What do you mean you don’t like being on ships? Are you seasick or something? My boat is barely swaying ya baby.”
“It’s not sea sickness. I just don’t like it okay? Can you quit asking me why and just help me?” You kept just trying to walk away from Kid. Eyes scanning the deck trying to figure out where they kept that plank to walk down on.
Kid paused as he watched you. Your short fluffy head whisked in the wind as you helplessly looked around for a way off.
Is this girl always a helpless little puppy?
“Well, I’m not helping you until you thank me. So get off this boat yourself or fucking fall off I don’t care.”
“Kid don’t you want her gone?” Killer whispered huskily. Of course, it caught your ears though. Turning your head briskly to look between the two men as they exchanged sideways glances.
“What I want is a thank you from her but she’s too much of a brat to cough it up.” Kid laid it on real thick as he spoke. Taking the time to pronounce brat harshly as if his tongue was dripping with venom.
You swiveled your head back towards Kids. Sharp teeth coming into sight as you snarled at him. “Can you stop patronizing me? Quit acting like you're the better person here or that I owe you anything.”
“You do owe me something! A goddamn thank you and maybe an apology while you’re at it. Do you think you deserve to be on my ship? Do you think I wanted to deal with you? I’ve been putting up with you the moment I came ashore instead of fucking relaxing like I was supposed to!”
“How is that my fault?! You never had to talk to me at the bar. You never had to save me or whatever you and your crew did. I was just there doing what I wanted to and you made it your problem. So boo-hoo bitch you fucked up your vacation!” You flung your arms in the air and brashly pointed at him. Quickly turning around and stomping towards the banister in a rush. You gripped its wooden edge, leaning down to look at the fear-inducing height between you and the dock.
Kid couldn't believe what he had heard. Well, he could believe the name-calling and the crass tone in your voice. And though those things made him want to boil over it also made him want to disappear. You were right. He did inherently inject himself into all of your problems. He put himself into the line of fire that was you. And though he knew this deep down it wasn’t going to stop him from telling himself that it was a lie. That you were the villain plotting nefarious plans to make his life a living hell. That the moment you were finally gone maybe things would start going his way. Even so, he didn’t exactly understand why he wasn’t just escorting you off his ship if that was the case.
My life would be easier with her gone. So why do I need this? Why am I keeping her here? She means nothing to me.
That thought crossed his mind just to turn his cheeks red. His knuckles were white as he wiped off the small layer of sweat across his brow. He could feel his stump twitching with a pulse. The new bandages doing little to hide the fiery sensation pinching at his nerves.
That’s it. I’m ripping her fucking head off. He watched you with keen eyes. Not willing to speak in case he let something slip that was beyond him. Beyond what he was willing to admit.
Killer cautiously stepped closer to Kid with pleading yet gentle steps. “Hey, I can handle this. Go inside. She’s being a bitch I realize but you're in no shape to-”
“To do what? Kill this bitch? Let me handle it Kil. She’s my problem.” Kid roared, your head jerking backward to watch the two men. With yet another string of panicked actions, you tried to sling your foot over the banister. A ripping pain snapping through you as it pinched the injury on your side.
If there is a God can they just give me a break and let me get off this damn thing!
With quick succession, you tried to jump onto the banister once more. Hooking one foot over quickly and bouncing up to sit on the carved railing. Your ass slammed against the ridged wood making you grunt and lean over in pain. Hanging one leg off the side of the boat as you looked down to sea the line between dock and saltwater below you.
“What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to fall off?” Kid couldn't believe how stupid you were. Your round body hanging off the edge into what could be yet another nose dive into the ocean. “Are you trying to drown again because believe me sweetheart I can make that happen.” He growled walking towards you.
That look on his face spoke a million words and all of them screamed murder. But in the other direction was of course a one-story drop that made piss nearly trickle down your legs.
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.
“Okay okay! I’m sorry! I said I’m fucking sorry so stop!”
This wasn’t your proudest moment but it was one you hoped to walk away from with all your limbs intact. Despite your pleas, Kid didn’t come to a stop. Still barreling towards you as if he hadn’t heard a thing. You tried to shuffle off the banister but he was already right up on you. Watching with shadowed eyes as he leaned uncomfortably close. His face was a mere foot away as his one arm grabbed onto the railing to close you in.
“I don’t know. That didn’t sound very genuine to me. How about you try again?” The intensity of his voice was suffocating you. His mountain of body caging you in and his face far too close for comfort.
You could nearly feel his breath fan across you as your cheeks slowly blossomed a deep red. Trembling lips followed by a quiet voice to match your submission. “I’m sorry for bothering you and being a nuisance.” You swallowed hard, dryness tearing at your already sore throat. If your blood was cold before it had gone even colder.
Kid's eyes flickered between yours. Soaking in that look of fear and desperation running across your face. It was palpable to the point where he could taste it on his tongue. Sweet and sour like the softness of your voice but the bitterness in your eyes.
Finally, the kind of reaction I deserve. He thought without a word. The silence between the two of you was so raw with tension. Egging on your fear even more. “And what else do we say? Don’t make me push you off so be a good girl and just say it.”
Confusion flashed through you. Blinking back and forth between his amber orbs. “What?” Your voice was so soft Kid could barely hear it. Cheeks going aflame as you leaned off to one side trying to get away from him. But as soon as you did that the boat tipped. A wave rocking along with you and your pants providing little friction to keep you upright. You tried to squeeze with your thighs but they slipped along with your hands. “K-Kid help!” You yelped, your body slipping right off the banister towards the waters below.
Kids eyes widened watching this all unfold right in front of him. He didn’t make a move to help you right away but as soon as your body dipped too far off and your legs unhooked from the banister he reached out. Taking hold of your forearm with a vice-like grip. “F-Fucking hell.” He let out a deep grunt. Abs leaning over and onto the railing to reach you. Your once-falling body now slack against the side of the hull. A wretched yell of pain escaped you as your injuries spasmed.
“Ahh fuckin shit K-Kid help me up!” Your other hand grasped onto Kid's forearm. Feet trying to kick upwards to propel you more.
“You’re not fucking light ya know!” He inhaled deeply through his teeth. His jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep ahold of you. You’re soft arm slipping in his sweaty hand.
“Captain?”
Kids' eyes break away from your lingering stare up at him. Finally noticing the contents of the dock below. A line of his crewmates were standing idly watching the two of you. A few baskets and crates in hand as if they had paused mid-step to spot the two of you.
Kid didn’t know what to say. Almost forsaking you as his arm naturally went limp. “Kid!!” His body flinched back into life when he heard your voice again. Muscles contracting once more to reapply pressure before you slipped out of his grasp.
You didn’t dare look down at the crowd below you. Eyes focused on Kid and the fast approaching footsteps of what you assumed was Killer not too far behind. But Kid's eyes weren’t on you. Dare say they had paused in one particular spot further down the dock towards the island. Once wide and glossy with embarrassment now honed and focused on something else.
“Who is that?” Kids voice was low and quiet. Pulling you up towards him with a breathy grunt. Killer finally took up the space beside Kid. Grabbing onto your other arm and effectively sliding you over the banister like a towel.
Sliding onto the deck your head almost slammed right into Kid's chest. Killer quickly let go of your arm. Grabbing you by the shoulder to steady you until you stayed upright.
“Y/N?” a voice called. With wobbly knees and blushing cheeks, you held tightly onto Kid's arm for support. Your breath hitching in the realization of who Kid was asking about. Slowly and unsurely you turned your head towards the source of the voice, only to find the worst-case scenario just standing there.
“H-Hi Dad.”
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A/N: Okay okay okay I realize that I’m making Y/N like EXTREMELY clumsy for no reason. It’s apart of her character yes but I promise she isn’t always the classic clumsy girl in need of saving trope!! Things will change. She will get better. She’s just GOING THROUGH IT right now. I mean like drowning, then on boat you don’t know, to fear for lore reasons, to angry man threatening you, to almost dying again!! Like it’s BAD BAD for her rn. ALSO I hope ya’ll are concocting some sweet ideas y/ns past lol. I feel like I’m making it too apparent but I’m also not sure??? There’s a lot to unpack there.
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skepsiss · 2 days
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Post season 4 steddie fic with Steve helping Eddie recover? Like after hospital and he's technically "healed" but he's having trouble. Learning to walk again, shaky hands, sharp pains, things like that
I love them sm
I love them too, anon. This premise is like so many of my story premises for them, so I will try my best to keep it short cause I can see this getting way out of hand, oops. Lol. **Note, you can send me steddie prompts too! Anyone can** (tumblr keeps messing with this post and putting the read more WAY farther down. Forgive me) The idea behind this is they're not together, and neither of them quite knows that they have feelings for the other. Sort of... the blooming of a crush. Early, early stages of Steddie. -- "I can do it," Eddie said harshly as he attempted to pull himself out of the chair he had been lounging in. Steve stood there, arms hovering around the perimeter of the armchair, as Eddie struggled to stand. Maybe Steve had been a bit too attentive as of late, but Eddie had only been home from the hospital for a little over a week. After the accident, recovery hadn't been easy for Eddie--or Max for that matter, but while Max was still in hospital recovering, Eddie had been discharged back to the care of his uncle. Of course, Wayne was ecstatic to have Eddie back home, but with hospital bills and having to replace half of their trailer, Wayne didn't have a lot of time to spend at home. The Party had been volunteering around the clock to check in and help Eddie, but Steve had noticed that Eddie allowed very few of them to actually help him. Steve was one of those people, and even then, it was a fight. Eddie did not in fact 'do it,' as he tried to support his weight on his arms and stand. Instead, he managed to get up and then promptly collapse to the side, clinging to the armrest to stop himself from hitting the floor.
"Hey, woah--" Steve breathed, hunching to catch Eddie by one of his elbows.
Eddie snatched his arm away, looking frustrated and embarrassed as he kneeled on the ground. "Eddie, just let me help," Steve encouraged, sounding a bit exasperated as he tried to look Eddie in the face. "Don't mother-hen me," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to contain his emotions. He sounded on the verge of yelling, or like he was about to start weeping, but Steve tried to ignore that. He didn't need to embarrass Eddie any further. "Can I at least grab your cane for you?" Steve asked, sighing as he stood back up. Eddie took a moment, and then nodded, breathing out a gruff 'yeah,' without looking up. Steve moved to the door and grabbed the cane that Dustin had brought over a few days ago--one The Party had decorated and glued a dragon's head to the top of to make it 'cool.' Eddie had liked it, but he still didn't seem keen to use it.
Steve handed Eddie his walking stick and he grumbled before attempting to get his feet under himself again. "Just let me help," Steve said quietly, not stepping forward like he had before, but still standing there expectantly. "I need to be able to do it myself--" Eddie grouched, barely managing to get up onto wobbly knees and stand. "No you don't," Steve scolded, "not this early on---Eddie, you were in a hospital bed for over a month, you don't have the strength to do it by yourself." "Elaborate way to call me an uncoordinated nerd," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to inject some levity into the conversation.
"That's not what I'm saying," Steve sighed, keeping close attention to Eddie as he slowly started to pivot. "Just let me---" Eddie started as he tried to take a step forward and wobbled terribly. Steve was at his side instantly, catching Eddie around the waist and arm, stopping him from hitting the ground again. Eddie stilled in Steve's arms before Steve heard a small whine escaping him, that eventually turned into an angry snarl. "Don't---just--" Eddie complained, trying to pull away again, but not having the footing or the strength to break Steve's grip as he jerked back. "Just let me do it--" The threat of tears was evident again as Steve saw the frustration well up in Eddie's eyes. He didn't want to force Eddie, but this was getting ridiculous. "Why is it so important that you do it? I can help, Eddie. That's why I'm here, just let---" "Because you're not always going to be here!" Eddie snapped angrily, cutting Steve off. He looked away again but stopped struggling against Steve's grip, instead standing there with his face turned toward the ground like a dejected child. "What're you..." Steve trailed off, trying to grasp at Eddie's meaning. He didn't like how emotional this was making Eddie, and he didn't like that he wasn't able to help him. Whether that was with walking or feeling better. "You're not always going to be here..." Eddie repeated, his tone much softer as he continued to hold onto Steve, still unable to stand on his own.
"We'll... I'll be here for as long as you need," Steve tried, still not understanding what Eddie meant. "No--you... how long is it going to take for me to be normal again? A month? Five? What if it's never? What if I don't get better? You're not always---I'm not going to make any of you put your lives on hold so I can stand up and go take a fucking piss," Eddie gritted out, his voice getting tight at the end, his emotions obviously raw. Steve quieted as he stood there, understanding what Eddie meant, but not agreeing. He had to imagine that being immobilized by an injury would drive him insane too, and he understood to a degree how deregulating it was not to be able to do everything he demanded of his own body. Recovery was slow, and hard, and Eddie wasn't going to have an easy go of it, but pushing himself wasn't going to help.
"That's stupid," Steve said bluntly, watching as Eddie looked up at him, completely surprised by his words. "You almost died, Eddie. No one other than some action hero from a bad B-movie is going to recover that fast. You're just going to make it worse. You have to rebuild the muscles, man. Learn to walk properly; there isn't a point in doing it if you're going to teach yourself to do it wrong, and then have to correct yourself over and over. You'll probably hurt yourself. It'll be painful, man." Eddie seemed shocked silent by Steve's words, still hanging there as he stared. "Isn't it the same with music? You practice and practice the same string over and over again until you get it right? And then you have to practice the right way or you're never going to do it?" Steve asked, watching Eddie inhale unevenly. "Eddie... none of us are going to abandon you, that's not what we do. I'm not going to make you do this by yourself." Eddie looked away again, a choked-sounding laugh escaping him as he let his hair tumble in front of his face to hide his emotions. Steve didn't stare, instead trying to look across the room to give Eddie a bit of privacy. He knew this wasn't easy, and the emasculation of being unable to do anything by yourself had to suck, so Steve tried to preserve as much of Eddie's dignity as he could manage. "Yeah... like learning a new chord," Eddie swallowed, his voice sounding rough.
He took another beat before trying to stand up on his own again, leaning heavily on his cane, but not letting go of Steve's arm either. "Going to ruin your summer--I don't want to be a burden," Eddie breathed, obviously trying to sound a little jokey, despite his words. "You're not a burden," Steve replied easily, shifting to stand beside Eddie to help him walk toward the hall of the trailer. "What else am I doing with my summer? Swim? Actually, might be good to get you to swim. Low impact, but great muscle strengthening. Probably be good for you to swim." "I can't swim," Eddie laughed, his tone bittersweet and laced with a much deeper emotion. "I'll teach you," Steve offered, not putting too much stock in his own words. "I used to teach kids to swim all the time during the summer back in '83 and '84. It's easy." Eddie went quiet again as he took careful step after careful step down the hall toward the washroom. "Yeah... okay," Eddie mumbled quietly as he leaned on the door handle and breathed hard from the effort of walking just that short distance.
"Okay?" Steve repeated, "Hallelujah, he compromises." Steve said sarcastically as he helped Eddie slide the door aside. "Man, shut up," Eddie grouched, but he sounded charmed by the gentle tease. "What're you going to get mad about now? Not holding my dick while I piss?" "Grow up," Steve retorted, trying to sound friendly. Eddie laughed and Steve helped him as far as the sink before letting go. "Don't fall over, and don't try and stand. Just sit down, you're still recovering, man." "Don't tell me how to use the toilet, Harrington. You're not my nurse-maid," Eddie grouched, able to wobble from the sink edge to brace on the back of the toilet. "You're lucky I'm not, probably would have sedated you by now if that was the case," Steve teased again, getting another small laugh from Eddie before he turned to leave the room. "Holler if you need something." "Harrington..." Eddie mumbled, and Steve paused at the door as he held it open. "Don't... thanks... thank you." "Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, "any time man... really. Any time, I don't mind hanging out with you at all." Eddie glanced over at him, and Steve flashed him another smile before sliding the door shut and walking back down the hall. He leaned there, waiting for Eddie to call him back over when he needed him. None of this was easy, and he didn't blame Eddie for having a hard time with it. He wanted Eddie to get his freedom back as soon as possible, but he truly didn't mind hanging around with Eddie whenever he wanted him there. He liked it, actually. He liked feeling needed and helpful, and Steve liked the idea of teaching Eddie to swim. He owed a lot to Eddie, and he had meant it when he said he wasn't going to abandon him. A month, five, forever... Steve didn't plan on abandoning Eddie for anything.
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heartateasee · 2 days
Text
PROMPT: (requested by @victoria-styles) “Harry finds Y/N reading smut about him on Tumblr.”
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Warnings: Reading about oral sex (f receiving), and brief clit play
Word Count: 1.5k
Harry’s fingertips ghost down the sides of my torso, and then down my hips - stopping to run over my hip bones as he shuffles his body a little lower. I open my eyes to look down at him again, and he's looking right back up at me. The movement of his body causes the sheet to pool around his shoulders, but it completely exposes my naked body to him. My one leg is still perched perfectly around his waist, foot now planted on the small of his back. The other leg is bent, and I've pulled it over to the side, spreading myself open for him.
He leaves one of his hands on my hip while the other wraps around the knee of my leg that's draped around his waist - moving it to hang over his shoulder instead. He's made his way down to where he's perfectly lined up with my cunt, and I can see that he's just staring at it.
His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, eyes gliding up and down. Blush tints my cheeks, and I can't help but start to feel a bit self conscious.
“This is the best view I could imagine waking up to. 'M in heaven over here,” he shakes his head.
I giggle both at his words, and the swelling feeling I get in my chest when he speaks them.
"Gonna make you feel so good,” Harry mumbles before leaning down, and he finally connects his mouth with the area that has been aching for him for the past few minutes.
I sigh out, my body relaxing into the bed now that the itch is being scratched. My fingers begin to journey through his curls softly, the heel of my foot massaging against the muscles of his back.
His tongue flicks against my clit lightly, taking it slow as to not overpower me too quickly. He truly wants me to enjoy this. After a while he plants a kiss to my sensitive nub and then licks at my entrance. I know my arousal has to be dripping onto his tongue and down his chin. I flash my eyes down to catch sight of him, and I hum at the sight. His eyes are focused on me and he peeks up for a moment. I was right. I can see myself shimmering on his skin.
"So sweet. I don't think I'll ever get enough. Could stay down here for hours pleasuring you. 'M fucking addicted."
Harry's lips reconnect to my clit and he closes them down around it tighter, beginning to suck on it. I cry out in pleasure, giving his curls a tug, fighting to keep myself against the bed so our touch doesn't separate. One of his hands is now pressing against my lower stomach-
“Do you think this shirt goes with these trousers?” Harry asked as he entered the living room, and you quickly clicked the lock button on your phone to black out the screen.
You sat up straighter against the couch, acting more than interested in the articles of clothing he was holding up on the hangers before he paused - lowering the items by his sides.
“Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a little flushed,” he commented, eyebrows knitting together with concern as he draped the clothes over the armchair in the corner.
Swallowing harshly, you forced a gentle smile onto your lips - hoping it would read like the ones you usually give him. “Yeah, I’m just fine. I was under a few blankets before, and I got warm. I had just tugged them off me before you came down.”
Harry eyed you closely, and you tried your best not to squirm under his gaze. You could see that he now had his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he stepped closer to you. He made his way around the coffee table before taking a seat on top of it with his head tilted to the side.
“I think you’re lying to me.”
Your lips parted at his words, and your hands tightened around the cushion of the couch that was underneath you. “I’m not. Why would I lie to you, H?”
Dismissing the question, Harry drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “If you want something from me, love, you’ll need to ask me now. I’ve got to be at the studio in an hour.”
The ability to form any type of sentence seemed to escape you as you watched his moss-colored eyes flitting between the two of yours.
“Were you watching something on your phone?”
He was pushing now. He saw right through you, and to be honest, you knew that he would. He knew your tells of being turned on more than anyone.
“No,” you responded softly, and you watched as the corner of Harry’s lips twitched up into a slightly smirk.
Humming softly, he reached out and placed his large hands right above your knees - giving the area a small squeeze. “No videos then,” he continued as his hands began to slowly creep up to your thighs. “So, you were reading something, hm?”
Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded at him as you held his eyes. “Yes.”
He always liked when you got like this. A little shy, and reserved. Regardless of the fact you had been with him almost four years now, anything of a sexual nature still caused you to get worked up, and embarrassed.
“That’s alright, baby,” Harry told you as he leaned forward a bit, running the tip of his nose along your jawline. “Can you tell me what you were reading? I wanna know what’s got my girl squirming on the couch.”
How the fuck were you supposed to tell him you had stumbled across a story that included him, and you had gotten sucked into reading smut?
“Just something s-sexy,” you gasped as Harry’s mouth sucked at the junction of your jaw and neck - all while slipping one of his hands up into the leg of your loose cotton lounge shorts.
“Just something sexy?” Now he was mimicking you while pulling your dampened panties to the side.
An inhale of breath left him as he felt just how soaked you were against the tips of his fingers, and his eyes began to explore your face.
“What the hell has gotten you this wet, sweetheart? Thought you only got like this for me. Hurting my feelings a little bit.”
“No,” you whimpered, not being able to fathom the thought of making him upset. “It…it’s just…”
“Use your words,” Harry’s voice lowered a bit as his teeth grazed your earlobe. “Tell me what you were reading.”
You could almost feel tears rushing to your waterline with how frustrated you were getting, not with Harry, but with yourself.
“It was…” you whined, trailing off as Harry began to kiss down your neck while applying pressure to your throbbing clit. “It was about you.”
Harry’s movements ceased, and a few moments passed before he was lifting his head up to look at you properly. “About me? What about me?”
“It was like…a story,” your face grew even warmer as you continued to speak. “Fanfiction is what they call it, I think?”
You watched as Harry’s face morphed into one of realization, and a large laugh bellowed from his chest. “You were reading about having sex with me, baby?”
As much as you knew he was just joking with you, the embarrassment that had started to dwindle rushed back tenfold, and you gently shoved him away from you.
“You don’t have to make fun of me,” your bottom lip trembled as you curled into yourself on the couch - trying to make yourself as small as possible.
“Oh, hey,” Harry cooed, his laughter immediately dying out when he saw how upset you looked. “It’s okay, Y/N. I was just messing. I just didn’t know that was something you were into. That’s all.”
“I’m not…into it,” you shrugged, shaking your head. “I just found it, and it intrigued me. Before I knew it, you were eating some girl out in bed.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised at this, and his arms made their home around your waist - pulling you into him. “And is that something you’d like for me to do for you before I go?”
When you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but love, and the eagerness to fulfill your needs. You bit down on your bottom lip as you nodded. “Yes, please.”
Smiling, Harry pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” He stood up from the coffee table, pulling you up with him. “Go upstairs and get undressed, baby. Lay down on the bed for me, and I’ll be in there as soon as I figure out what I’m wearing to the studio, okay?”
Your heart skipped a few beats, and you giggled when you realized the little fantasy you had been reading was about to become your reality. Hell, it was always your reality because you actually had him.
With a swat to your ass, you made your way up the stairs and into your bedroom, ridding your body of your clothes as you went.
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bg3-stole-my-soul · 24 hours
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❤️Tall Fem! Tav x Astarion Headcanons❤️
So— Tall Fem!Tavs— we need more love and I am going to attempt to play with the idea because in fandom spaces I only ever see fem Tavs that are shorter than Astarion and it makes my tall self’s heart ache.
I also know in game it doesn’t matter if your Tav is taller than Astarion…. But like what if it did— 👀
I am going to keep this as racially, background, and class ambiguous as possible however it is very clear the short races like halflings, dwarves, and gnomes this is most certainly not applicable to. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but this is for us 🤌😌
So on that note physically this Tav is tall, muscular, and probably a lil physically intimidating— and like almost every character I write is of Chaotic Good alignment. Tav is a big, sweet, mischievous muscle mommy with big hands—
This is my first time doing a post like this so please be gracious. I did my best to keep this in character for Astarion, while also sweet and mostly focused on his POV.
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Being taller than most of your companions wasn’t a bad thing exactly, just a thing. You had outgrown many of your peers ages ago and while it had embarrassed you for a long time, you eventually embraced it. The stares of others became empowering instead of making you try to shrink yourself in any way you could. However this did not save you from being nabbed by mind flayers and infected— damn. It also surprised you when an elf shorter than you managed to catch you by surprise and hold a knife to your throat.
I don’t think Astarion is the type to be insecure regarding his height, man’s petty enough to climb the counters to the top shelf if he damn well feels like it. However upon meeting a female Tav who’s taller than him, stronger than him, he is ever so slightly worried. It makes him want to spur his plan of manipulation for protection into action quickly. Only because he doesn’t want to run the risk of getting snapped like a toothpick—
On that note, watching you fight absolutely does something to this man. Being able to see your muscles all the way from his perch on the other side of the battlefield is certainly something he can appreciate. He can absolutely admit that you are fine af, especially covered in blood.
At first he would be annoyed if you did things like pat him on the head with your huge hands- after all he puts a lot of work into his hair that he can’t see— but comes to realize it’s your way of gentle support. And he supposes it’s better than other things… Eventually he grows to love you resting your big hands on his head or shoulders. And even further down the line holding your hand, his slender fingers tangled in yours.
When this man chooses to try and bite you in your sleep it is absolutely out of sheer desperation because he is terrified of those arms staking him. But when you accept what he is without any real complaint.. he is pleasantly surprised. He likes you’ve got a good heart in that big chest of yours.
When he gets downed in a fight and wakes up to find himself in your arms being carried back to camp OH BOY that might be the first moment he realizes he’s in trouble.
The next time is absolutely the morning after the tiefling party. He wakes up at the crack of dawn snuggled into your tiddies— and as the old meme states “World hard and cold, tiddy soft and warm”. If he weren’t so excited to bask in the sun he would have stayed there all morning. Post confession it is his favorite way to cuddle.
He believes your arms are the safest place to be, and he is probably right. Being held by you makes him feel like he is surrounded in warmth, and if he sleeps there he usually has less nightmares. Drinking your blood with your arms wrapped around him is genuinely sweet and euphoric for this man.
❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️
~ ❤️18+ HEADCANONS BELOW❤️~
He also enjoys the two of you just snuggling and admiring one another’s appearances, it’s intimate, and it feels right. He loves being able to take his time tracing his hands everywhere on your larger body, finding the places that make you laugh and squirm for him.
He also doesn’t mind a little manhandling if it’s from you, because he knows despite your size you will happily let him move you where he wants or stop if he’s no longer comfortable.
Back at the tiefling party he let you top, and while he does enjoy that, he enjoys it just as much if not more when he does. He enjoys getting to look down at you, and see you come undone at his touch. Call it vanilla, but this man loves being able to watch your face during sex, being able to look into your eyes is a BIG thing for this man.
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rotbtd-edits · 1 day
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The similiar struggles of Merida & Hiccup
Just my two cents because I love talking these movies. I find it interesting how both Merida and Hiccup share similiar conflicts/themes in their movies. They both feel pressured to become leader figures by their parents, while also stubbornly sticking to their own ideals. Merida is trained by her strict mom to become the perfect princess, and is also expected to carry out her duties through marriage. Hiccup in HTTYD2 is expected to become the next chief by his dad while Hiccup himself feels it's not for him and he can't meet the expectations. They both have other dreams and yearn to keep their freedoms. Merida wants to live her life like she wants to, and Hiccup wants to keep exploring and spreading his findings about dragons. They also have parents that at some point have refused to listen to them.
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They also act in defiance to their families in order to maintain their own ideals and freedoms, wanting to do things their way instead of traditions. Merida argues against her mom, breaks the clan traditions by shooting for her own hand, and asks the witch for help to "change her mom" to agree to Merida's views. This ends up endangering her mother and the peace between the clans. Hiccup in turn refuses to listen to his parents about Drago, both who know him much better than Hiccup. Because Hiccup keeps believing anyone can change, that if he's just given the chance he can make it happen and everyone else is just hindering him in their warmongering blindness. Hiccup believes so strongly in his position as the pacifist peacemaker that he doesn't budge until it's too late. Neither Merida nor Hiccup really stops to think of the possible consiquences of their actions, they only see the positive outcomes. They feel like they're not being listened to, but they also don't listen to others either.
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So they both try to escape the expectations and restrictions put on them by actively defying and being stubborn about it, that it ends up endangering everyone. The main difference is, that while Merida gets a second change and has everything fixed in the end, Hiccup ends up paying the heavy price for his mistakes.
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Merida's actions get her mom turned into a bear and almost loses her completely. In the end when all seems lost Merida finally admits her fault aloud and to herself, owning up to her mistakes. Before that she also admits her careless actions against the clans and is ready to accept her duties as the princess. Merida finally sees the bigger picture outside her own point of view, that she's in a position where she simply can't think only about herself. She manages to reverse the spell and fix her relationship with her mom, who has also come to see the error in her own ways, thus ending things perfect.
Hiccup's mistakes sadly don't get as happy resolve as his stubborness ultimately ends up getting his dad killed. It's the cruel wake up call to Hiccup, how some people are simply beyond help and fighting them is the only way. It's what his dad had tried to tell him throughout the movie. Had he listened to his parents, things might have ended better, and he has to carry this guilt with him probably his whole life. Drago is the real villain and culprit, but Hiccup did play a part in how everything turned out. His part is more nuanced than Merida's, who is more clearly at fault in Brave along with her mom. After Stoick's death, Hiccup has no choice but to face the reality, own to his mistakes by stopping Drago and accept his duty as the chief. It was a harsh lesson for him, that sometimes you just can't force things to go your way, but maybe it was one he needed before becoming the leader for his tribe. Just like Merida needed to face hers to fix everything around her and correct her ways.
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So yeah, like said I find it interesting how Merida and Hiccup's stories and their character growths follow similiar themes. I'm glad Merida got her happy ending, but damn now I really want to give Hiccup a hug! ;u;
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misskingshit · 2 days
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𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘵 summary: where he has an interest in a certain pop singer, and he doesn't try to hide it. note: believe me or not i’ve been listening hip hop since Im like 15 y/o, soooo why not do an M&M’s fic?? Let me know if u want part 2! xoxo
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The lyrics of Mr Eminem's new song being mostly about you? That was something you definitely didn't expect.
I get so weak on my knees
Lose all control
Damn, her silhouette
So hot
Fuck bein’ a gentleman
I'm going to fuck her instead
The red carpet at the Grammys has always been a dream for you, you had already won a couple of awards, today... you were excited to be the presenter of one of them.
Best Rap Album.
To say you were excited is an understatement.
You've loved this genre of music since you were a teenager, Tupac, Fifty, Snoop...to name the most classics.
The camera flashes were the only thing you saw, accompanied by many voices that stunned your ears just by hearing your name.
"Y/N! over here!" A reporter called you, without hesitation, you approached.
"Hey how are you?" you asked with a big smile.
"Incredible! How are you? I imagine you're very excited for tonight" he smiles.
"Don't even mention it! I can't wait to call the winner on stage!"
"Do you think Eminem is nominated? He's been on everyone's mouth lately with his latest song..."
Here we go.
"Yeah... well, I'm sure he'll be nominated, I mean, he's fucking Eminem, it would be like a sin if he wasn't, right?" You laughed a little awkwardly.
"What do you think about his last song, about his comments towards you? 50% of people are upset calling Eminem a degenerate..." you didn't let him finish speaking.
"Well...I really like him, I mean, I've always been his fan and it's an honor to be named in one of his songs. Plus I also think that...we all know how he's like, if you don't like his way to be, to think, to speak, the lyrics of his songs, just don't listen to it and that's it, problem solved, I don’t see the point in hating so much on something you can just...ignore" you laugh looking at the camera "Just take things more lightly, not everything is fighting and bad intentions."
You finished your conversation with said reporter and simply headed to your designated seat.
On the other hand, a certain blonde boy was also being attacked with questions regarding his controversial lyrics.
"She's here? Shit, I want to see her," the blonde rapper said, showing a small, very small, smile, turning his head around with the intention of catching some sign of the hot pop singer, you.
"Yes! In fact she will be the one to present the award for best rap album!"
"No shit! Damn man she's here" Em turned around and said to his best friend, Proof.
In a few minutes everyone finished settling into their seats and you both were surprised when you looked at each other, just a few seats away.
You were five seats to the right and three to the back, so you caught him every time he turned his head back a little to look and smile at you.
Until, soon...your moment had arrived, you got up from your seat to head backstage.
By the way, when you walked past the rapper, he didn't try to hide the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off you for even a second.
"And the Grammy goes to..." you created some tension "EMINEN!" You blurted out the name more excited than you should have.
The rapper's reaction might not have been very expressive normally, but he couldn't contain his smile when he knew who would be the one giving to him his award. The rapper and his friends got on stage and it was inevitable that you felt nervous as you watched him walk towards you, with a playful look, as if he knew what he generated in you.
"Congratulations," you whispered when he was close enough to you, taking the grammy as you felt the soft brush of his fingers against yours, he did it on purpose.
You didn't expect him to give you a hug.
"That's all I get?" He whispered back to you, keeping your faces close and your noses touching, his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him as if he didn't want to move away from you.
A great bustle from the public was heard, and it took them both out of the small cloud in which they were.
This was definitely going to stir the waters.
You both walked away, while you greeted and congratulated the rest of his friends (Proof winking at you in the process).
"Wow, shit, this is crazy, thank you so much to everyone who made the production of this album possible, Dr Dre, who always had my back, I will be forever grateful...and my god, damn, thanks to whoever the fuck is that put this beauty in that dress..." he turned to look at you and winked "Y/N Y/L/N ladies and gentlemen, the source of my inspiration for Heat Seeker"
Obviously, you blushed.
The entire audience was applauding, probably already starting to gossip among themselves about the little show between you and Eminem.
Like a gentleman he offered you his hand as he watched you walk down the steps of the stage with great caution. "Thank you," you whispered. “Any time” he smiles at you.
´Til the end of the awards you continued to connect glances from time to time, you also noticed how his friends bothered him every time he turned his head to look at you.
"Hey, Y/N! wait!" listen to yourself behind your back. "Hey," you looked at him softly, "whats up?" He shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to…I mean, normally I wouldn't give a shit, but, I wanted to make sure that the song didn't offend you, it wasn't to upset you…" You interrupted his attempt to apologies "Don't worry, I understand it was just the song, I didn't take it personally, actually, I loved it" you laughed. "You did? I'm glad you're not like the rest and laugh instead of being offended." His attempt to hide his smile failed completely.
It just slips away from him.
Just with you.
A few seconds of silence took over the situation, though it wasn't uncomfortable, your eyes connected and you didn't seem to realize that you had been staring at each other. "Uhm, I was about to go to my hotel," you pointed behind you, "I was gonna change for the afterparty."
"Can I go with you?" He asked you, but before you processed the fact that he wanted to go with you to your hotel, he interrupted your thoughts "I mean, just so then we can go to the party together, if you want" he scratched the back of his neck.
You didn't even need to think about it "Yeah, I would like that" you smiled.
The two of you walked together towards your limo, captured by several cameras, so neither of you doubted that tomorrow you would wake up to a bunch of articles about how Eminem and Y/N left the Grammy's together. But none of you care about it.
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New (not really) Murder Drones Au!
This AU is called the Mercy Drones AU, created by my lovely boyfriend who gave me permission to share this to Tumblr! I helped with some of the concepts and the name!
Basically, while the humans were testing stuff out with Solver, they also made the "Mercy" program, an anti-virus for Solver. With episode 7 and the introduction of the patch, we kind of made it one in the same. anyway
The Mercy program is the result of the patch warping the solver mutation's genes/coding and essentially "purifying" it. Instead of bat wings, Mercy Drones have moth-like wings made of solar panels that sprout from their backs. Instead of mouths at the end of their tails, they have a strange, claw-like hand at the end of their tail. Nothing they "gain" from this mutation is organic. When they go full-Mercy mode, their 'screens' turn purely the color of their LEDs. These drones thrive in the sunlight
Wing shapes aren't always the same and can be based off of any moth species.
Within this AU, Thad has the Mercy Mutation, along with Alice and Lizzy (though hers is Dormant and has remained dormant thus far.) Lizzy and Thad got it from their late mom Izzy, who was once a zombie drone alongside Nori, Yeva, and Alice. (Thad's wings are based off of Luna moth wings, Lizzy's would be based off of Maple (or pink lemonade) moth wings)
The thought of this AU came up because I was losing my fucking mind over how much wasted potential Thad had, mostly focusing on episode 2. He got grabbed by Solver, and while All of the other worker drones it grabbed died immediately, he didn't, and it even acted scared when he threatened it and I was screaming about how it made no sense and there had to be more to Thad because of this.
In the au, this interaction with Solver activated his Mercy programming, fighting off Solver's influence. Soon after this, he did the ol "transformation" thing (see image), and it was during Episode 4 that he finally learned how to use the abilities the Mercy programming used. He wasn't in the bus, bro had to cling to the top of it as they went home.
In this au, Solver not only sent the DD's to Copper-9 to kill the drones but also to hunt down any Mercy Drones who were left there to neutralize the only threat to it's ultimate goal
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I never got around to fully coloring this, but the outer "rim" of the wings are silver, and the inside of the wings are dark green, which looks more like a bright mint green in the sun. The inside wing colors change depending on the drone (For example, it would be dark brown in the dark and orange in the light for Alice)
When Mercy Drones are depraved of exposure to sunlight for long (and I mean long) periods of time, they grow sluggish, tired, and weak. For this reason, when Alice realized she would never see the sun again, she permanently removed her wings.
Some abilities include- - Drawing sun rays collected by their wings to create light daggers - Magnetizing their fingertips - Can create other things (from shields to drone repairs) out of their harvested energy
If you have any questions, my ask box is open!! (Extra doodles are under the cut)
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The transformation is incredibly painful, hense the pool of oil in front of Thad here. He threw up because the pain was so agonizing.
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The ending of Episode 4
Me? Planning on writing both of these and posting them on AO3? Noooo (yes. yes I am. stay tuned)
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lara-cairncross · 2 days
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Heey! First of all, I love your pixie au sm, I'm glad you're okay with us asking questions and stuff. I was a little unsure about asking
Anyway, I saw your last post with April and I had to ask, do you intend to show us what their first meeting was like? Like, have they known each other since April was a child? I suppose they were already that size since they were born that way, but what about April? Did she "kidnap" one of them like in the movie? If so, which one?
It would be so cute to see the others on a "rescue mission" for their brother. I was thinking about Donnie being the kidnapped one, maybe in a fight with Leo? Idk, but I would definitely love if Donnie and April had a moment together
I'm sorry for the long ask, hope it's okay :]
Happy to hear you love it 🥹🩵🩵
Uhhhh, eventually, yes! I would definitely like to write/draw out the boys' first meeting with April! I'm not sure how likely that'll be to actually happen, but I'd love to do it at some point :D
Yes, they've known each other since April was aboutttt eight maybe? And the boys were quite young for fairies too! I've changed D*sney Hollow canon a little bit by giving fairies more of an adolescent period, since I liked the idea of fairies being "raised" for a handful of years by the whole community until they learn the ins and outs of the world a bit more! Plus I wanted an excuse to draw the boys at slightly younger ages hehe
I'm not sure about the kidnapping arc, honestly? If it did happen, it would be a very short-lived affair lmao. The boys met April when they were still new enough to not really fear humans yet, so it wouldn't be much of a rescue mission-- more like, "Oh hey! You met a human!!! New friend?" from the other three turtles! They'd all think April was the coolest thing ever from the moment they met her :D
Donnie wouldn't be the one to be kidnapped, either. I was thinking Raph instead! He has a history of getting tangled up with a whole slew of dangerous animals because he finds every single one of them absolutely adorable-- I can imagine him doing the same when he sees April, and her accidentally "kidnapping" him because of her own fascination! Kind of a mutual big-sibling adoption process ❤️💚
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nataliasquote · 4 hours
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This Is Me Trying | n romanoff
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Summary: Inspired by ‘this is me trying’ by Taylor Swift
Warnings: angst, break up, slight toxic relationship, alcoholism, glass smashing, no happy ending sorry
wc: 2.3k
note: happy TTPD countdown day :) thought it would be a good idea to post a Taylor fic before all I think and talk about for the next few days is TTPD 🤍
-⧗-
Some relationships are simply not meant to be. No matter how hard you force it, or swear that it will get better, the foundations were cracked from the beginning and no amount of work will ever truly fix them.
And as Natasha stood in the pouring rain, the wilting bouquet of flowers hanging limply by her side as you shut the door in her face, her resolve threatened to crumple like the cellophane in her palm.
She was convinced you were the love of her life. Days with you used to feel breathless and electric, a stark contrast to the strained atmosphere between the two of you now.
Natasha had tried everything. She gave her notice in at work, not just retreating to desk work but quitting all together, just for you. It was what you wanted, you’d made that clear. Your nerves couldn’t handle Natasha in that field for a day longer.
But that wasn’t enough; nothing ever would be. No matter what Natasha did, you were never going to work out. She quit her life for you, and somehow the rift expanded at twice the rate. Constant arguments and fights inevitably lead to an explosion of words that led to you storming out, the slam of the door rattling the windows in their frames.
You walked out that day and took a piece of her heart with you, leaving a broken redhead on her knees in the echoing apartment. Natasha began her free fall, not having work to consume every moment she had anymore.
How did Shield’s top agent drop so far behind that she was passed out on the couch mid afternoon, a bottle of vodka just out of reach of her fingers as her arm hung off the couch. Her hair was greasy, scraped back into a messy ponytail and her skin was blotchy as a result of her neglect.
When she wasn’t asleep, she watched her phone with her knees pulled up to her chest. It sat on the other side of the couch, the screen blank, and she almost bore holes into the glass from how hard she stared. Just willing a message to come through. A reply to the fifteen texts she’d sent you. One for every day you’d been gone, pouring what was left of her heart into an apology and promising to do better.
She thought she was the problem, her clouded judgment not allowing her to see that you weren’t all that innocent either. She never blamed you for being paranoid, working as a nurse in the busiest ER in the state had your nerves frayed anyway. Nevermind always being scared that you’d see your girlfriend on one of those gurneys, her name being added to a list of patients you’d lost under your care.
Fear made you cold and you took it out on Natasha. Did she deserve it? Absolutely not, but your words were out before you could stop them. The hot headedness between you both always clashed and on the nights you couldn’t solve it with heavy make up sex, at least one of you would be yelling whilst the other sat with their head in their hands.
Natasha didn’t know what she was doing when it came to love, you were her first and by the looks of it, her last. She was too hard on herself, and it hurt you to listen to the way she berated herself after a failed mission. But whenever her mind was set, there was no changing it. Harsh or soft, your words did nothing to change her destructive mindset and it was beginning to get to you. You wanted your home to be light, a place filled with love that you could return to after a horrible day. But instead it was dependent on how Natasha felt and whether you were going to be walking on eggshells that night or not.
But there was only so much creeping around you could do before your patience snapped. You didn’t mean to shout but it all happened so fast and suddenly there was glass everywhere and the last thing you knew you had grabbed your scarf and fled. Hands shaking on the wheel as you pulled up to a red light, pressing decline as Natasha’s name flashed up on your phone for the third time.
Twenty missed calls. Fifteen texts. Natasha was close to smashing her phone against the wall too. Her nose ran as she sat there, chin on her arm. Ears barely even registering the sound of the doorknob twisting or keys rattling in the door. She just wanted that message to appear, or even a phone call.
What she’d do to hear your voice again.
Heavy but tentative footsteps sounded down the hall before they stopped in the doorway of the living room. Natasha only looked up when a cough caught her attention, and the brunette in the doorway was certainly not who she was expecting to see.
“Y/n has gone to stay with her brother,” the woman began, her arms folded, unimpressed with the state of her friend. “Bucky told me everything that happened. Oh, and you look like shit.”
“Thanks, ‘Ria,” Natasha grumbled sarcastically, her voice low and monotonous. Maria walked over and grabbed her arm, surprisingly met with very little resistance as she pulled the redhead up off the couch and shoved her in the direction of the bathroom.
“I’m gonna clean up in here, you need to shower, and then we’ll talk.” Natasha went to protest but abruptly shut her mouth at Maria’s raised brow. “I’m moving past the fact that you haven’t called in about three months, so go, sort yourself out Nat. This isn’t like you.”
As the redhead trudged off to the bathroom, Maria collected up the empty bottles, shaking her head at the amount she found. How the same woman who had set records in Shield’s history and had the most prolific skill set she knew, had now drank herself into such a mess, Maria had no idea. Bucky hadn’t said much on your state but she doubted you were thriving either.
Once the living room was straightened out and all the bottles hidden away, Natasha emerged from the bathroom looking slightly better. She relayed the details from two weeks ago and Maria’s face fell at how Natasha barely kept it together. Her chapped lips trembled and her nails itched at the scars across her hands as she spoke, eyes looking everywhere but her friend.
“I still love her and it’s fucking terrifying,” Natasha cried, sinking her head into her hands as she hunched over her knees. “I’m not cut out for this love stuff, but I want it with her and now I’ve lost her. She won’t call, text, nothing, I’ve never felt so lost. I don’t even know what to do!”
“Nat, just breathe for a second or you’re gonna have a panic attack,” Maria interjected, leaning forward in her chair slightly ready to assist if needed. But Natasha just slumped back against the misshapen cushion and sighed heavily, zoning out on a bottle of whisky beside the tv.
“I’m trying, Maria. I’m really trying but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. What am I doing wrong?”
Maria shook her head and moved onto the end of Natasha’s couch. “You’re not doing anything wrong Nat, I promise. Ok, so the drinking was a shitty move, but at least you’re trying.” Her words seemingly fell on deaf ears but Natasha had heard her. And they resonated hard.
At least I’m trying… right?
“When was the last time you left the house?”
“I can’t,” Natasha croaked, her teeth chewing on her lip again. “I can’t go anywhere because all I see is her. It’s really fucking hard when every tiny thing is a reminder of her and what I’ve lost. Even the films, for god’s sake! I can’t even numb myself with tv because she’s somehow always there!” She gestured at the blank tv screen and came face to face with her disheveled reflection staring back from the black screen. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday, I tried-“
“It’s okay, birthdays happen every year. You’ll be there for the next one.” She gave Natasha a warm smile, and for the first time in weeks, Natasha felt her lips curl up slightly too. “I’m going to order takeout, and then you and I are going to watch a Bond film, no protesting. Give her time.” Maria spotted the phone on the table in front of her. “I’m also confiscating this or you’ll drive yourself insane.”
Natasha was too tired to protest, so she nodded blindly and let Maria drag her around. She didn’t admit it, but letting her mind drift away from Y/n for an evening was refreshing. Maybe she could do this. If she tried hard enough, life could be good again. She could work through it, toughen it out like she used to do.
After all, this was her trying…
But the same couldn’t be said for Natasha a week later. She’d woken up late and anxious, after a nightmare involving Y/n had shaken her to the core. She waited out the day with sweating palms but as the clock struck seven she couldn’t wait any longer. The weather was horrendous and heavy raindrops ricocheted off her windscreen as she drove to the grocery store, her eyes hazy in the streetlights.
Grabbing the first bouquet of flowers she saw, Natasha walked down the alcohol aisle to get to the checkout. But her eyes fell on a familiar bottle of brown liquid and she froze, almost dropping the flowers onto the floor.
The first bottle of whisky you’d ever bought her as a gift, the same one that was on the tv stand, now stared back at her on the shelf, the reduced sticker glaring bright. Without a second thought, Natasha grabbed it off the shelf and scanned it at the self service, her chest heaving as she fumbled with coins to pay.
The rain hadn’t eased up and her thin hoodie did nothing to stop the water from soaking into her skin. Her purchases lay abandoned on the passenger seat, the place you normally sat, as she weaved through the streets towards your brother’s house. She knew the way for emergencies and a single thanksgiving dinner.
But she didn’t get out of the car straight away, like she’d envisioned. The engine cut off and she sat in the dark vehicle, eyes trained on the front door like she willed you to come out and greet her. All the courage had suddenly fled from her body and she felt like curling up on herself like a scared child.
With a grunt, she grabbed the flowers, leaving the bottle discarded on the seat, and crunched across the stone driveway to the front porch, knuckles confidently knocking on the damp wooden door. Faint rustling could be heard and Natasha thought as though her heart would fall out of her chest and drop onto the ‘Welcome’ mat like a cat’s peace offering of a mangled bird.
The door opened. Natasha’s legs almost gave way when she finally saw your face, paler and a little thinner than it was before. She watched you take her appearance in, the soaked bouquet of flowers slightly crushed from their journey. Her mouth opened and closed, no words offering themselves up for her to use.
“I, um-“
“What are you doing here, Natasha?” You asked, voice cold. She wasn’t used to you talking like this to her, even if that’s how the last month of your relationship had been. She remembered the happier times and clung on to them for dear life.
“I just…” she trailed off, feeling so ridiculously hopeless. Maybe she didn’t quite know what to say, now that she was actually here. “I miss you- us. Look, I just wanted you to know that I’m trying, I really am, and I can do better. I want to make it up to you, please Y/n.” She held out the bouquet, feeling more like a teenage boy getting rejected by his crush.
Y/n’s conflict was so evident in her eyes, but she could feel her brother’s presence only meters away and she knew what he’d say if he invited Natasha inside.
It was too soon, and as much as she wanted nothing more than to run into her redhead’s arms, the smash of a plate still echoed in her mind and she couldn’t go through that again. Not yet anyway…
“I can’t, Nat, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying, I am too, but I can’t do this again.” Natasha’s eyes threatened to fill up with tears as she gulped. “Not yet. I’ll call you when I’m ready and we can talk. I’m really sorry.”
You didn’t mean it, but you had to shut the door before she saw your tears fall. It barely fell into the lock before you sank to the ground, shoulder against the door as tears streamed down your face. Seeing her face hit you harder than ever before and you wanted to run into her arms, feel her and smell her around you as you promised everything was going to be alright.
But it wasn’t.
And as Natasha trudged back to her car and leaned against the locked door and the rain beat down on her fragile body, she let out the most heart wrenching sob. The flowers dropped onto the soaking asphalt as she pulled her arms tightly around her body, trying to mirror the comfort that your hugs used to provide. She didn’t even care that she’d probably get sick from the rain, nothing mattered anymore.
Nothing mattered but you, and your name fell from her lips as she cried, tears mixing with the raindrops. She didn’t know you were crying out for her in Bucky’s arms only meters away, wanting another chance.
You wanted to try again, all for her.
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wehangout · 2 days
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7 for the prompts ask!
Send me a number prompt and I’ll make it smutty
7. holding their hand under a table
"And then we had to go back again because we got the Chadwick cherry tomatoes instead of the Sweet Million tomatoes!"
Ian laughs, and it sounds genuine, but all you can do is frown at Jill and Alan and wonder why the fuck Ian agreed to this bullshit dinner. Jill and Alan. Ugh. Fuckers have been judging you since you threw the chairs into the pool, which, sure, not you're best move, but mostly fuck them.
And fuck Ian for agreeing to this ... whatever the fuck this is. Double date? Casual get-together? No fucking clue. Definitely not a casual get-together, though. Ian made you wear your good jeans and fuck him for that, too.
You shift in your chair and try not to make it obvious. Ian likes this shit and you love Ian. It's that simple. If he wants to go to a nice restaurant with your shitty neighbours, then you go to a nice restaurant with your shitty neighbours.
But when Jill and Alan - seriously, fuck those guys - start talking about Jill's crazy cousin who spent a month in a nut house because she's a fucking psycho ...
Well, fuck those guys.
You literally feel every moment of your body tensing up. You get tight and your hands curl into fists. You want to hit Alan and yell at Jill, but Ian. Ian won't want you to make a scene. Ian doesn't want everyone to know his shit. Ian can fight his own fucking battles.
Slowly, trying to keep your rage from showing, you pull your hands beneath the table and let them curl into fists.
And Ian - fucking Ian - knows exactly what you're thinking and how you're feeling, and his hand follows, reaches beneath the table, grasps one of yours in his own.
Squeezes.
It's not a calm-the-fuck-down squeeze, or a don't-fuckin'-think-about-it squeeze, or even a let-it-fucking-go squeeze. It's an I-got-you-we're-fine-I-love-you squeeze.
It's reassurance and it's grounding.
You grip his hand right back, thankful that the subject quickly changes to some artsy fucking movie Jill and Alan want to see. Ian asks questions about it, his thumb stroking your knuckles the entire time, and it's good. It helps. Ian helps.
You give his fingers one last touch and go back to your food. Everyone else is almost done because you've been too pissed off to eat the shitty portions of shitty food, but you need to catch up. You need to pretend everything's okay.
Kinda hard when Ian's hand stays beneath the table, when it flattens against your thigh, when his long fingers stroke along the inner seam of your jeans.
You look at him, eyebrows raised, and the smile he gives you in return is totally calm, shows nothing but love, and considering the way he moves his big hand to cover your crotch as he does it, it's a fucking contrast.
You turn back to your food, hands gripping your utensils a little too tight, and, for once in this stupid double date bullshit, try to pay attention to the conversation. You listen to the words and take in the subject matter, nodding along at appropriate times, because if you don't you'll focus solely on the way Ian's hand slowly massages at your hardening dick and that would just be - be ...
"Shit," you mutter.
Everyone stops talking and looks at you - Jill with mild disgust, Alan in confusion, and Ian in concern - even as his hand keeps moving behind the tablecloth.
"Everything okay, Mick?"
You swallow and nod. "Yeah, just thought I forgot to do something."
Conversation continues and Ian doesn't stop. He doesn't stop and he doesn't stop, and he continues to just not stop until you grab his wrist and force him to because you're close to coming in your pants like when you were teenagers and would rub up against each other because that's all you had time for. Only then does Ian stop. He lets you breathe. He waits until you've had a sip of your beer and then moves in again.
You glare at him. He ignores you. He moves his hand up and down your hard cock, using his nail to trace the tip through the denim of your jeans, and it's good, it's so fucking good that whatever the fuck yoga bullshit Jill's talking about doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter. Because Ian's rubbing you through your jeans and it just doesn't matter.
But then you stop him again. You have to. Fuck. You're literally panting at the table - quietly, but panting nonetheless. And they just keep talking. Even Ian, his voice calm and smooth, and that - the contrast of everything he's doing above the table and the filthy shit he's doing to you below the table is too much and not enough.
He moves back again and you look at him, face slack, eyes wide, because he can't be, he can't -
Fuck.
You still have to get through dessert.
He meets your gaze, and even though his smile is still soft and warm, his eyes ...
You know that look. Jill and Alan won't have a fucking clue, but you recognise the heat and want and command in them.
He is. He's going to keep going. He's going to take you to the brink again and again, right at the table, knowing the risks, knowing you could possibly make a fucking fool of yourself at the shitty dinner table at the shitty restaurant in front of your shitty neighbours, but also knowing that it won't happen because he won't let it. He won't let you come until he's good and ready and you - shit - you won't come until he lets you.
You pick up your beer with shaking hands and down it in one.
It's gonna be a hell of a fucking night.
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alcalystrasz · 2 days
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This, is what I think is going to happen for BYLER in season 5:
1. They will get multiple heart-to-heart/intimate scenes together. As we already saw in season 4, they got 3 in total: the first on at Will's house, after El shmacked Angela's face, the second one on the car in the desert, after burying the Hero Unknown Agent Man's body, the third one in the van when Will opens to him. In season 3, we didn't get any, but in season 2 we had 2: the first one when Mike reassures Will about the Mind Flayer and they touch hands *so cute*, and the second one when Mike tells about the first time they met. So if we're being reasonable, it could be 4, I think we'll have 4 scenes in total.
Let me explain that... I see the first one being about Max and Lucas' mental state. It could be at the hospital, or at school, or at Mike's house. The second one could be some sort of fight. I remember one of the co-writers saying there will be an other rain fight. I don't really know if it will happen cause he confirmed it a long time ago but let's say it is. So an other rain fight, at Mike's house, but maybe this time it could hint Mike's sexuality instead of Will's like in S3. The third one could be where they try to reassure each other that it's okay they will win right after Vecna's back, more likely at Mike's house or someplace other. The fourth one could be in the Upside Down, because may I remember you that Mike never went in the Upside Down? That's what we call a first time, right Mike! So Mike and Will in the Upside Down could talk about everything they've been through and Mike could finally kiss Will and tell him how much he loves him.
For a final scene, a fifth but not really fifth, it could be when everything's over. They go to some sort of High School Ball to celebrate their final year and I see them finally breaking the "I'm scared" barrier and go in the middle of the dance floor and dance together like no one else is there with a Time After Time song playing on the background.
2. Their first kiss will be awkward from both their POV. What I mean is that when they kiss for like, what, 3 seconds, Will pushes Mike gently and Mike removes himself gently and they look at each other like they did something bad. Will stutters trying to say something but nothing comes out of his mouth. Mike could say something like "Oh, I'm sorry I- I didn't..." but Will could interrupt him like 'bitch wdym you're sorry' he could kiss him back but it is after the kiss Mike will admit he never liked El romantically. Buy yeah, awkward kiss, just like Rockie's one could be actually. Mostly cause they're older so it doubles the awkwardness.
3. Jonathan gets some hate towards Mike. I can literally imagine Jonathan always being mad, upset and distant towards Mike because he can't see his brother likes him. It'd be too funny I'm sorry ;-;
4. Will gets hurt by Vecna and Mike stays next to him at the hospital. It could be the opposite actually, Mike in the bed, but I prefer Will cause he's used to it now- I can see them being close and Mike being super worried but it doesn't count as a intimate scene because Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper are close.
5. Will shirtless makes Mike blush. Let me explain, LET ME. We saw in S5 BTS they swapped clothes for some stuff. Like, we saw Will has Mike's clothes on, logic, he left everything in California and they do the same cloth size (almost). So if we consider the fact that Mike lends his clothes to Will, we can totally imagine at one point Will, coming in Mike's room asking for a shirt because he doesn't have anymore. Mike brings him one and he says thanks, then he removes his clothes, his back facing Mike's face and he gets like flustrated it'd be HILARIOUSLY CUTE. He could stare through a mirror maybe, idk but that sounds nice right?
6. Mike will get hurt in the Upside Down. Of course he has to, he hasn't been hurt in the whole show, BRO'S FINE. So he gets hurt and Will of course would help him, they could rest a little and talk two times, one "normal" hinting a future kiss and the second time they kiss.
An upside down kiss. What a funny name. It isn't a Spider-Man kiss though (should be).
I think that's it, I'll reblog my post if I find anything else.
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Freedom Calls Alternate Ending
As you run, the thought enters your head that maybe you should stop. Just give up and distract your former employer and coworkers as long as possible to give him a longer head start. The more you consider it, the better it sounds. Your pace slows, and you begin looking around for a smaller fork off the main path that you can take. Your footsteps stray off the main path, and it takes only a few paces before an arm grabs you from behind, lifting you up, and the man curses nearly silently in your ear. He runs along the main trail toward the road. It takes only a few more minutes to reach it, closer than you thought.
"What the fuck was that? You dumping me into a trap here?" He stops on the edge of the forest, not venturing out and drops you to the ground, not caring that you bump your head or that something tears into your leg.
"Ouch! Fuck you! I was going to run a distraction so you could get clear. Lead them off in the wrong direction." You can't see his face and you don't make an effort to, your hands reaching to your injuries and coming back wet on both. "Great, now I have that to deal with." You feel a bit faint as you stand, but force your body upright.
"I still don't trust you." He almost seems to be convincing himself of that fact.
"Good. I never wanted you to. Now, I assume you can get away from here?" He nods, and you start walking toward the road. "My job is done. Now fuck off back to your loving team and good morals." You do your best to ignore the pulsing pain in your leg, but he moves to stand in front of you, barely an inch away, blocking your way forward. Ignoring him and his crossed arms, you skirt around to keep going. A growl makes you stop in your tracks until you realize it is coming from him. When you continue to walk away, he grabs you, spinning you to face him.
"We need to talk, and you're coming with me." Trying to pull away makes his hands tighten painfully into your arms, so you just give in.
"Fine, just get us out of here, then." He picks you up again, carrying you over his shoulder with one hand on your waist. He jogs down the road to the nearest marker and continues on after reading it.
"Mile 435. Just a mile or so." He reaches it in about fifteen minutes, and you are on the edge of hurling from being jostled around when he puts you down again. The pain in your leg has increased tenfold with the jarring impact, and you immediately drop to all fours and lose control of your stomach. It feels like everything over the last week comes up. Afterward, you can barely keep from falling down into it, but that iron bar of an arm is back, standing you up. This time, he scoops you bridal style, and you bite your hand, trying not to scream as he bumps the wound on your leg. It takes him a moment to feel the wet stickiness, and he reacts by shoving you into the bed of a truck that you hadn't yet noticed.
Weak, you don't fight him yanking off your pants. Instead, you hiss at him to get you out of here. He signals the truck, and you hear the screech of the tires as it takes off. You fade in and out, feeling weaker. At one point, you can feel him searching your clothes, and another, he is yelling something that makes you laugh, though you don't know why.
When you regain consciousness, it's to the smell of a hospital. The too clean stench of antiseptic makes your stomach roil, but you manage to swallow away the urge to puke. Turning your head, you see the masked man sitting there, watching you closely, his eyes never straying from your form. He says nothing, barely moves as he keeps watch. You turn away, looking at the rest of the spartan room, surprised you aren't handcuffed to the bed.
"Evening," you say quietly, your voice a bit scratchy and your throat dry. You look back at the masked man, waiting patiently for his response.
"Evenin," he responds gruffly after a long moment. "You have anyone to miss you back home," he asks after a few more minutes. At the shake of your head, he nods slowly, seemingly making a decision. "Good, you can't go back anyway. You have a bounty on you."
You sigh quietly. "It was worth it," you say with a shrug, not looking at him. "Even if they get to me, it was worth it because you'll do more good than I could ever hope to do..." You close your eyes, ashamed and disappointed that your life turned out to be so lackluster and you feel like this one act, a single hour out of your entire life, might be the only thing you could be proud of out of the twenty-some years you have lived.
His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "Thank you... and I'm sorry for hurting you," he says softly. When you open your eyes, you feel a shudder run through you. He is looking down at you with an unreadable expression, his eyes brightly shining from his mask. "So, you have no one waiting for you. You are in danger the moment you leave this base. And you have no resources to support yourself. Am I correct?" His voice is soft, but menacing in a way as he lays out how helpless you are now. How drastically your impulsive decision has altered and effectively ended your life.
"Correct," you whisper, trying not to cry as you realize that you are essentially a walking dead man, simply waiting for the bounty to be carried out with no way out in a foreign country with no ID or way to survive.
"Then... I have a proposition," he says, tracing a gloved hand across your cheek, down your throat, and skimming across your breast to your hip, suddenly looming over you. "I will keep you safe, housed, fed, and... happy. You will be my perfect little housewife and all that such a position would entail," he says, his other hand wrapping around your wrist and bringing your hand to the bulge in his pants. "Agreed?"
You swallow nervously, looking up at him and the way his body fills your vision for a long moment. You consider his words and that you clearly don't have another choice if you want to last more than a week before nodding. "A- Agreed," you say shakily.
"Good girl," he purrs, reaching down to unbutton his fly. "Show me how devoted you can be, luv."
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