#rip consistency some of these got very long answers and others did not at all lol

[astererer]

AUTHENTICITY , APPRECIATION, MEANING, and PURPOSE for Vernon, Shoko, and Diego?

Ask meme here!!

This got… long. So, so long…. so answers are under the cut lol

AUTHENTICITY - What are sub- and unconscious things that make them who they are? Who can they be themselves with, and who do they wear a mask for? What kinds of social roles do they perform?

Diego

Has a subconscious drive to avoid boredom. This culminates in his inability to hold down a job for more than a few months (he’s a temp worker in name only, rather than being part of a temp agency he just hops from job to job every few months), stirring up drama where there isn’t any and poor impulse control. Getting an A the same way as everyone else isn’t enough for him, he needs to do things in a way that’s unconventional and fun.

His need for entertainment and to find things interesting in order to engage with them does give Diego some positive qualities. He got into cooking because eating the same meal constantly is not an enjoyable way to stay nourished, so he started experimenting with different flavour profiles and recipes to the point that he’s become a genuinely skilled cook. He’s also open minded and a generally creative thinker.

Diego’s always putting up a mask and hiding some part of himself from other people. Part because he’s often lying or purposefully vague in conversations, part because he just doesn’t feel a need to share personal stuff with others. If he ever finds someone he can truly be himself around it’s gonna be his future spouse.

Diego certainly performs social roles, but the particulars change regularly depending on whatever job he has at a given time.

Within friend groups however, he takes on a leadership role. Usually the first to suggest a night out or things to do in the group chat when everyone has the same day off work. Sometimes this becomes a problem as he can be dismissive of other people’s ideas and does not always take being disagreed with particularly well. Tends to get passive aggressive when his friends don’t cooperate with his plans.

Shoko

On a subconscious level, Shoko has a constant feeling that she needs to prove herself in some way. As a teenager this resulted in her having a rebellious phase in an attempt to prove she did not need her parents telling her what to do, despite having no idea what to do herself. Now as an adult she strives to prove that she really is capable of being independent even when she doubts herself.

Shoko mainly hides her true feelings/puts on a mask around her coworkers and her parents.

With her coworkers it is simply a matter of professionalism. They don’t need to know she’s tired all the time and she needs to present some level of authority and responsibility given her position within the bakery she works at.

In an attempt to repair her relationship with her parents Shoko had to be honest about her feelings and why she was such a brat, but began to feel a need to come across as more responsible/capable at ‘adult things’ than she feels she really is so that they do not worry about her. Does not let them know what her fears and anxieties are as she does not want to cause them more trouble than she already did as a teenager.

She also puts up a mask around her girlfriend to an extent, as she feels like she has to be extra reliable around her. Tina is much more put together and glamorous than Shoko is, which is fine, Shoko likes that about her, but she feels like she is floundering sometimes and does not like to appear weak in front of people she cares about. So she tries to put on a front that she’s got her shit in order to the same level as Tina, even when she feels like she doesn’t.

That being said her only true confidant is probably Vernon. They’ve known each other since she first landed in Galar and joined his school, and have developed a sibling adjacent relationship. He stuck by her when she started acting out as a teenager and they’ve both been one another’s shoulders to cry on after breakups and so on.

Shoko’s social roles are as follows:

Within her family she is simultaneously a daughter and a provider, in that she helps financially support her parents due to both of them being retired and needing extra money on top of their pensions to get by.

In wider society she has the roles of a baker first, pokemon trainer second. She’s a commis baker, so reports directly to the head baker and is responsible for making some of the more complex desserts and pastries. Her pokemon are primarily assistants at her job and have been trained accordingly, with the exception of her Flareon (more of a house pet) and her mother’s Torkoal (looking after him in her parents’ stead).

Within her friend group she takes on a more passive role of a follower, not particularly interested in making major decisions for other people and happy to go along with other people’s plans. Used to have a more active role in her relationships but mellowed out after finishing school and getting a job.

Vernon

Vern’s subconscious pushes him to help and take care of people. It’s what makes him feel useful. Likely stems from when Aster was born and Vernon taking the role of big brother really seriously after being told by his parents to help look out for her as he grows up. After 14 years of doing exactly that up until Aster left Galar (and to an extent afterwards from a distance, calling her regularly to make sure she was still alive), he felt like something was missing. Initially coped by redirecting all his attention to his team, doting on his pokemon like his own children.

This drive to make sure the people and pokemon around him are okay makes him particularly vigilant in his job as a cabbie and generally well suited to service oriented work. Less people-pleasing and more just gets a sense of satisfaction out of knowing he’s helped people have a good day or night.

Puts up a mask around most people, particularly the passengers he ferries around, but also some of his friends.

With passengers, it is a case of professionalism. He’ll maintain a polite and well-mannered front no matter what, even if he has to deal with someone he’d like to punch in the face. Vernon’s job is important to him and he enjoys helping people, so he will do what he can to maintain an image of good service regardless of his personal opinions of those he interacts with.

With friends, Vernon will put up a mask in order to play the role of Group Mother. He holds back on some of his interests and makes sure to listen more than talk so that others don’t feel left out and generally prioritises the needs of his friends above his own. The kind of guy that is well-liked, trusted by the group and generally relied on but most of his friends do not actually know much about him beyond what he shows on the surface.

Meanwhile he’s very much himself with his family. His parents raised him in a way that he does not feel a need to hide anything from them, and they also encouraged him to explore his interests freely without judgement. The Delaney family home was always an incredibly relaxed environment, so he’s never felt a pressure to put up a front when at home. His relationship with Aster has always been close, albeit Vernon took on a protector role during their childhood and teen years until she left Galar. Over the years their relationship has developed into a close bond where barring intimate relationship details they share pretty much everything with each other. He’s still protective from afar though.

Vernon’s only friend that he doesn’t put up a front around is, as already mentioned, Shoko. They’re one another’s oldest friends and have been through a lot together. She’s the only non-relative that Vern feels he can truly put his guard down around.

For social roles, Vernon fits primarily into being a sibling and a cabbie.

He may not spend a lot of physical time with his sister, being in separate regions, but Vernon still feels a need to look out for her. Checks in regularly to make sure she’s doing okay, but also takes opportunities to mess with her the way siblings do. Aster gives as good as she takes and causes Vern no end of fond annoyance too.

Being a cabbie is both Vern’s job and technically his trainer class as well (assuming those apply outside of the games lol). He helps others get from points A to B through the skies, and takes pride in being able to do so. Not much of a pokemon trainer though. His only battle ready pokemon are his Corviknight and Oinkologne. One is his work partner and therefore cannot risk being seriously injured, the other does not listen to his commands and stays at home, keeping his other, much weaker, companion pokemon safe from Diego’s Ekans.

Within his friend group Vernon takes on a caretaker role. Holds back on nights out to make sure everyone else can get home safe, checks in on friends to make sure they’re doing okay and also calls them out when they’ve crossed a line on something.

APPRECIATION — What kind of accomplishments do they recognise? What things do they find beautiful or attractive? Which of their senses do they find most joy engaging with?

Diego

Tends not to dwell on accomplishments and achievements for the most part. Has more of a ‘good job, onto the next thing’ sort of mindset. When he does though, Diego recognises accomplishments less on what the achievement is and more on how it’s done. Not just with acknowledging his own, but other people’s too. Will be happy for his friends if they accomplish something through an ‘honest’ method, he’s not about to rain on anyone’s parade, but conventional methods just aren’t interesting to him and will be far more invested in someone else’s successes if there’s an interesting story behind it.

Finds beauty in snake pokemon. Finds their sleekness and the way they move is very elegant and their more standoffish personalities interesting. Also likes how some of them look wrapped around his arms. Living fashion accessories. Only other thing he really stops to appreciate the beauty of is whatever new high he experiences from trying something out for the first time. Kind of a zest for life sort of thing.

Gets enjoyment from engaging with all of his senses, being someone who gets off on experiencing new forms of stimulation whenever possible he will try anything if it will make him feel or experience something new. Whether that’s trying new food, sampling the occasional powder or two, going on a long hike or just reading an obscure book he’s never heard of before. Man’s open to all kinds of things. Taste is probably the one most consistently engaged with though since he’s the one cooking most of the meals in the flat.

Shoko

Recognises small accomplishments. Did she get out of bed and start work on time? Did she have a decent meal for lunch? Has she done the necessary care for her pokemon for the day? Each step of Shoko’s routine is something she quietly acknowledges as a task completed. Helps getting through the day when she’s constantly feeling exhausted.

Sees beauty in her work. Making desserts and pastries is just a job to Shoko, but seeing the finished results when she pulls a batch out the oven is always satisfying to her. The one thing she takes pride in is the level of skill and artistry she needs in order to create multiple treats that are perfectly uniform from scratch. Doesn’t have time to admire her handiwork for long, but likes to take a moment when she can.

Finds the most joy in pleasant smells. Being surrounded by food all day leaves her somewhat indifferent to scents like baked bread and chocolate. While she finds them pleasant she isn’t crazy about them anymore. The change from stepping outside the bakery to out into the open air at the end of a shift is always incredibly refreshing. Type to use scented candles when having a bath when she gets home from work, sometimes treating herself with a bath bomb too. Prefers natural floral and herbal scents like lavender as opposed to the artificial sugary ones.

Vernon

Vern recognises pretty much any and all things his friends accomplish. Won’t be like “Wow that’s amazing I’m so proud of you” or otherwise heavy on the praise, more an understated “Oh you got the promotion? Nice work”. Keeps it lowkey but is very supportive. Buys the friend a drink or two.

With his own accomplishments, Vernon is even more low key. Tends not to brag or tell others unless it’s something major. He’s a pretty modest guy at the end of the day.

Sees beauty in the past. Constantly looking through history and experiencing second hand nostalgia for times he wasn’t even alive for.

Finds the most joy from the sense of touch. Not just from physically holding or running his hands through/over things, but other physical sensations too, such as the ones that come with flying on the back of his Corviknight.

MEANING — Where do they believe they fit in the world around them? What provides them comfort? Do they think about their daily life and routine? Are they satisfied?

Diego

Sees himself as kind of an outsider, and is fine with that. He’s weird. He’s a weirdo. You ever see him without a snake wrapped around his arm? That’s weird. Nah but really he knows he doesn’t really fit into “normal” society — uninterested in having a stable job, not a fan of the Galar League or the general fervour for battling that’s pervasive throughout the region’s culture, and regardless of whether he considers himself shady or not, he has a habit of hanging out with that kind of people.

Finds comfort in spending some time by himself. Loves spending time with others, of course, but is actually an introvert at heart and needs to spend some time in self-imposed isolation every so often.

Doesn’t keep much of a routine as he’s pretty impulsive. Only thing he does on a regular basis is cooking dinner for the flat nearly every night. His timing on when he cooks isn’t the most consistent though.

Pretty satisfied with his life. Enjoys being able to do what he likes whenever he likes.

Shoko

Shoko sees herself as kind of just. Existing. She has a life and is just trying to get by lol.

Finds comfort in sleep and warm baths. Soaking in the tub after a hard day’s work then swaddling herself in a fluffy dressing gown then crawling into bed is her favourite way to relax.

Most of Shoko’s routine is pretty much done on autopilot. At work she’s very much on the ball, but the rest of her day is carried out with little thought. Just doesn’t have the energy to think too hard about deviating from her routine, will rely on her friends and girlfriend to come up with things to do.

Not the most satisfied with her life, knows she has a lot of stuff to work on and is frustrated with herself for feeling so worn out so often.

Vernon

Vern feels like he’s just an average guy and he’s happy that way. Doesn’t need to be centre of attention, just needs to be good at his job and spend time with the people he cares about.

Is comforted by spending time with his pokemon. Likes to curl up in bed or on the sofa and cuddle with them while reading a book, or spend some time giving his guys little spa treatments.

Daily life and routine is thought out and planned. Keeps a diary planner to stay on top of any events coming up and potential changes to routine. Has a structure to his day/night; what he does first thing when he wakes up, when he starts and finishes his time at work, has a specific window of time where he’ll usually call his sister to see how she’s doing.

Pretty satisfied with his life, all he really needs now is the stability and relationship to start a family. That’s something he’s willing to take his time with though, love can’t be forced and finding a place to move into with a partner requires a lot of time and planning.

PURPOSE — What kind of goals do they have to look forward to? What are their internal goals (having a good relationship, being a certain kind of person, etc.)? What are their external goals (making money, being admired)?

Diego

Diego’s main internal goal is just to have a good time. Doesn’t think too far ahead and is focused on experiencing new things. Would like a committed relationship at some point, but isn’t in a rush to find the right person to do that with. Happy to just fool around for now and isn’t interested in planning ahead.

His external goal is just to make enough money to fuel his lifestyle and keep a roof over his head. Isn’t looking to change anything about his life just yet.

Shoko

Shoko’s internal goals are to improve her relationship with her parents, which is currently an ongoing process, and to be more on top of her work-life balance. She currently expends the vast majority of her energy on her job and wants to find a way to change that, so that she can actually do things with her friends and partner more often.

Her external goals are about being seen as responsible and capable by others. She feels bad about being a bratty teenager, so strives to be a more respectable person now. Unfortunately with her energy levels plummeting in her early 20s due to spreading herself too thin, this has become increasingly difficult to achieve. Does not help that she refuses to ask for assistance when she’s struggling.

Vernon

His internal goals revolve around his interpersonal relationships. Get rid of the people in his life he dislikes, while making sure the people he loves are doing well and that he can look out for them when needed. Currently a bit difficult to achieve the first thing as he lives with Diego who he is lukewarm on at best, and some of the other people he dislikes are friends with some of his friends. So he can’t really cut off all the people he wants to at the moment.

Also has a desire to start a family once he settles down with a life partner. Preferably his children would be biologically his and his partner’s, but if that isn’t possible for whatever reason he would be fine with adoption. Just wants to raise a family in the future.

Vernon’s external goals meanwhile revolve around his career and education. Once he’s settled down and ready to start a family, he intends to switch from the region-wide cabbie service and night shifts to Wyndon’s dedicated cabbie service during the day, with more normal hours.

Wants to continue with higher education after he’s finished his BA too. Definitely a Masters, but unsure about going for a PhD. That will depend on what else is going on in his life at the time. He has to do all his degrees part time, after all.

#SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO FINISH LMAO #oc vernon #oc diego #oc shoko #ask meme #rip consistency some of these got very long answers and others did not at all lol

[riseofthecommonwoodpile]

how do you find so much music to listen to? i don't have any friends who like music as much as i do, so i end up getting all my recs from tumblr, but i feel like i'm perpetually lagging behind all my cool mutuals. also, i feel like it takes me a long time to listen to an album and form a conclusive opinion on it, but you seem like you can knock that shit out super fast (remembering that music rating project u did). any tips for broadening my library? thank u and have a great day

This has been in here forever but i never took the time to answer it, i'm sorry! Hopefully belated is better than not at all

Long story short, it's one of those things where the more music you listen to, the more you find to listen to, so once you get to a certain point it's a bit of a self-perpetuating thing. That said, i do have some tips, and a lot of them will be really basic but i'm writing this more as a general thing for people who want to listen to more / different music but don't know where to start:

something that really helps (and especially helped when i was first getting suuuuuper into music listening and criticism as a main hobby of mine (i used to write actual full length reviews instead of the tiny capsules i do on twitter lol)) is just lists! As bullshit as stuff like Rolling Stone's "500 Greatest Albums of All Time" or the p4k decade lists are, they're undoubtably great overviews of things from the perspective of each outlet that puts them out, and i definitely only got into certain bands or albums because they were canonized in some way or another. plus, if one outlet's lists seem to vibe with you consistently well (for example, Tiny Mix Tapes' decade and year end lists are so very much my shit that i'd listen to almost everything on them) you can follow that site and see what they're reviewing and liking now (RIP TMT for many reasons but losing this especially from them was a bummer for me)

in addition, more narrow lists are great for if you want to get into something specific but don't know where to start. a lot of times, if i want to check out a specific genre but don't know anything about it, i'll check out the RYM "top 5" of whatever that genre is (RYM has its own clear biases and limitations, but especially for smaller microgenres i find it a super helpful starting point) or i'll literally just google "best reggaton albums of all time" or something similar and check out the albums everyone is recommending. canonization is problematic, but by looking into what the majority of people have come to call the best of a certain style or genre or period of time can give you an idea of what the tropes and characteristics of something are, and you can branch out from there if you see yourself digging at least parts of it.

from there, once i have a good starting point, i will both look up smaller / more personal lists (individual people's "best of" lists are always way more interesting than ones multiple people voted on because there's nearly always a curveball or two) and dive deep on both "suggested" similar bands as well as looking into the label or people they made music with, other projects by the same creators, etc., and that can get you quickly off the mainstream road and into fun little sidestreets.

then, last but not least, i will literally just search bandcamp or a music torrent site (by which of course i mean a place where you completely legally buy music and never pirate it) for a specific tag or genre or year and download the ones with covers i like lol. this is way more likely to lead you to mediocre or bad music, but like, that fairy pop album by diana starshine i loved last year i found exactly by searching for i think "hyperpop" on bandcamp. i saw the cover, liked it, checked out a few tracks, and voila. it's shallow and doesn't pay off all the time, but honestly it's been surprisingly successful for me in the past (except when it comes to post 00's j-pop, for some reason many of the best j-pop album covers contain some of its blandest music).

idk if any of that helps but yeah

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Did no one seriously ask you about Ocelot for the character meme? Well, I guess I gotta do everything around here. As a fanfic writer I'm very curious abt your thoughts, namely mgs3 era but all is good with me.

It's definitely never too late ^_^. I'll be answering these for as long as people feel like sending them in.

Send Me a Character to Rant About/5 Things About Them

Ocelot Ocelot. I have some thoughts and ideas about Ocelot. If Major Ocelot is your main interest I'll put much of the focus of the ask on that, but I'd like to include later Ocelot as well. Thinking about Ocelot is like putting a thought into a blender and every thought becomes their own thoughts and a lot of that is definitely intentional given how many flavours of Ocelot exist and yeah. Narrowing this all down into something vaguely coherent is going to be challenging, but I’m sure I can do it.

After all, it’s no secret MGS’s man behind the majority of the series grey-to-black Russian cowboy is one of my favourite characters, and that I have lots of thoughts about him. (Funny enough Major Ocelot’s actually the one I have the least general information on in my head, but there’s plenty there).

Ocelot came into this world violently, left it violently, and brought down the Patriot’s with him. This man operates on a level I can only vaguely grasp at but funny enough “how tf does this man keep his plans straight’ doesn’t baffle me quite as much. I imagine he has little file folders in his brain, and those file folders have subcategories and he can pull from those categories when required and-

Anyway!

Five Things about Ocelot, let’s go!

(Obviously this won’t be all my Ocelot thoughts, this is another book on it’s own, these are just some)

1. All the world’s a stage (or is it?) Person vs Performance and Ocelot’s Mixing of Both.

It’s a no-brainer that one of the biggest and most consistent character arcs of Ocelot is that he’s putting on a performance 90% of the time, and with almost every interaction. As a spy, as a soldier, as a person. One could ask ‘who actually IS Ocelot?” and be left wondering that themselves. Most of the games end with an infamous post-credits moment of Ocelot, once again, being behind the whole ordeal you just played through. Once the player gets comfortable with what they assume to be Ocelot, the rugs ripped out from under them and once again, we are left asking ‘Who the HELL is Ocelot?!?” Good question! The man has a seemingly near-endless ability to be whoever the person he’s working for (or persons) is at any given time. Someone able to shape himself to the situation as it calls for it with an almost endless array of personalities at hand to aid him into doing just that. And he’s very good at doing this, but that isn’t just who he is. Because if one does observe him throughout the course of every game, some patterns do begin to emerge, and there are some consistencies throughout.

Ocelot was raised by the Philosophers. Trained from a frighteningly young age to be a spy, to be the man they wanted him to be. We can’t even truly confirm if he was raised within the Soviet Union, or in various other places. We know that by 1984 he speaks 7 languages (one of the highest language stats on Mother Base, though some surpass him).  Someone with enough skill behind himself to be inserted into the Soviet Army at 20, in his own spetsnaz unit. Now, some of that was obvious string pulling and meddling, but they aren’t going to send a guy into a role like that who hasn’t got a serious set of skills either. That’d be mission suicide. Especially for a mission as unbelievably complicated as that. Eva is a spy too, and she’s older than Ocelot. 

I can imagine most of his earliest personality was what the Philosophers wanted for it to be, and he had to sort of..figure out who he was for himself sometime later than that. We know Major Ocelot is fairly arrogant, but he’s also arrogant in a way that can come off as trying so hard it cycles back to being cute, and immature in a way older Ocelot almost never is. He’s trained, he’s working hard at his spy and soldier duties but he’s still young and experiencing growing pains. And that’s okay!

I think Ocelot learned a lot about himself during the events of Snake Eater, and that learning helped shape him into the person that he’d later become. I think he might’ve taken Snake Eater as a very viable lesson in how to arrange and mold himself into further situations down road, and the sort of things he may have wanted from life after that.

All this aside, what do I think Ocelot is like as himself, when not focusing on a role? I think these are the character traits that come to mind when I consider Ocelot as Ocelot and not ‘Ocelot and the crafted persona for the necessary job at hand.”

Mainly:

How smart he is.

His personal quirks *his guns being the absolute biggest personal quirk I can think of, along with his fondness for the cowboy aesthetic*

His sense of devotion.

His sadism, and personal taste within that. His personal enjoyment and investment with torture and interrogation is confirmed multiple times within canon, and I think it’s a key factor in his personality. It’s important to who he is as a character.

The fact that he’s morally dark-grey to black (I don’t believe MGS has any characters that are just all black, or all white, or all grey, I think of the MGS characters in flow, as complicated as real people are and none of the ones entrenched in the war machine are good people) Ocelot’s darker than most of them and personally, that is how I like him.

His competence. His Mother Base stats are..nothing amazing, many of the soldiers outrank him in pure stats alone, but that’s ok. They don’t really have a set stat book for the things Ocelot is bringing to the table.

The fact that he’s queer. Not much to expand on there in this instance. He’s queer. People can argue it all they want, YouTube, Reddit etc the internet can Russian taunt it out of the abyss and back, the guys queer. And he knows it himself.

2. Growing Pains and Ocelot Being a Fast Learner

It’s probably not a surprise that one of the most legendary soldiers in the world birthed a son with the sort of abilities we see within Ocelot, and while the man gets his ass handed to him more than once, I don’t think this does him a disservice, in the long run. Young Major Ocelot is humiliated in many of the fights he has within the series, and Snake has him on the ground within minutes of their first encounter after single-handedly taking out his unit, but what happened before that?

Before this, Ocelot shot 6 KGB agents, in a single round. The last one tries to run away. He isn’t successful, thanks to Ocelot’s apparently super human ability to utilize ricochet. People react to him with some trepidation and fear, and that didn’t just come of tossing a well-known name around, since Ocelot is able to back up his skills.

(From a player stand point too, I find his fight before the Pain interrupts genuinely challenging too, so I appreciate that). He picks up CQC largely from OBSERVATION. “I picked up a few new moves!” Yes, yes you did sir, and in the space of..days? That’s impressive, and there’s no denying that fact. Snake isn’t turned off by him either. Happy to help him within minutes of defeating him, and only seems genuinely upset in Ocelot’s presence when he tries to shoot Eva to death. Which seems pretty understandable of Snake, to me. Ocelot’s naturally observant, not just to the degree of soaking up information like a sponge, but also being able to then take that information, be it world events or a new move, and use it later. Fairly quickly to. He’s an extremely adaptable guy, and that’s a very useful skill to have.  I’ve seen several people headcanon him as ambidextrous because of the gun twirling, and I can see that being possible. If not by birth, then something he forced himself to become, because it’s a damned useful skill to have. Major Ocelot is boastful, and arrogant, but at least it’s not coming from nothing and made out of wild dreams and hopeful thoughts.

Eva flattens him with the motorcycle (something he deserves in the moment, this is still war and this is still people fighting for their lives), but he also puts up a damned good fight and chase on his own bike when Eva and Snake are escaping from the Shagohod. It’s one thing to be arrogant with absolutely nothing to back that up, another when there’s at least some probable cause. And as I said, Major Ocelot’s still young and immature in ways his elder self absolutely is not,

3.Soldier, Spy,  Interrogator, Torturer and Sadist (Shalashashka and Everything in Between)

Ask anyone about Ocelot and this is what comes to mind first, and not without reason. In series, he’s the interrogator. He’s the guy that’s getting your answers (with some painful persuasion) and he’s good at it. Huey is by far the best example we are given of this (I have listened to Huey’s interrogation tape more than is possibly healthy, and I am never not fascinated by how Ocelot is able to break down Huey’s arguments and get what he wants from the man, not just with suggestive words, but with gentle probing and being able to get into Huey’s head frighteningly well. He knows what Huey’s about, and he gets results. I also believe Venom lets Ocelot deal with the “issues” that might arise in the brig. I can easily see Venom looking to the brig, and then instructing Ocelot to just do his thing.

It’s suggested Ocelot didn’t care as much about torture until Snake’s torment under Volgin in MGS3, and I do believe that to be the case. But not that I think Ocelot didn’t have some interest in it before, but that Volgin was so incredibly bad at torture Ocelot didn’t see how it could be useful until it was someone he was deeply invested in on the receiving end, and notably, someone who didn’t die during the process. Once Ocelot had a more personal investment in it, and saw it beyond ‘victim dead in three hits’ he was able to let his mind wander and expand upon that, which is where I think his real genuine interest in it began to take root.

Torture and Interrogation are not the same thing. They can exist together, and they can also exist outside of one another. Torture is often a by product of interrogation, since breaking someone to get answers is a common hand-in-hand with the situation, but torture can also just exist for the sake of torture. I think Ocelot has a genuine, invested interest in both but he’s not delusional about it either. I think he enjoys breaking people down, getting to the core of their conscious and twisting it to get what he wants. I think he takes great pleasure in getting good at something (pride) and isn’t afraid to let himself indulge when the moment suits him to it. Sure, he has a job to do, but he’s not going to not have some personal fun either if he thinks he can get away with it in the moment.

Note my sidebar of my blog a moment.

Congrats, Huey. You manage to have even less of a moral code than Ocelot. Take a bow.

I want to point out a couple things here.

1. Only person who can see this right now, is Huey. Ocelot is beyond needing to intimidate Huey. Huey is already plenty well intimidated by Ocelot. He’s been in this room many times up to this point. They have surpassed the need for Ocelot to have to resort to scaring the guy, he’s in denial, but I’d imagine he’s plenty scared.  So..why bother?

2. Well, because even it’s for a split second, Ocelot does enjoy his job. He’s not a good person, isn’t pretending to be a good person, and if he thinks he can indulge..why not? Sure, it’s selfish. Ocelot’s selfish sometimes. I highly doubt he cares if it’s selfish. This moment of brief, intense cold smirking lasts SECONDS (getting this actual screenshots kind of a nightmare, it’s so damned fast). he’s doing this because Kaz can’t see his face, Boss isn’t here to argue, and he’s not above flicker-brief personal enjoyment if it suits him. Hypnotized or not.

But! I want to note something else here too, I think he might reserve that for people he genuinely despises. And Huey is someone he genuinely despises.

Something that I find interesting about his most famous interrogation and torture scene, that is, when he tortures Solid Snake in MGS1, is that not once does he actually LOOK at Snake.

Oh console, thy be fascinating! (Twin Snakes has better lighting sue me)

He only looks at him when he is asking him questions, or talking to Snake. 

(I was too lazy to cap out the red youtube line again sue me) Something something  Russia something something ideology he probably doesn’t give a right shit about. Being a quadruple agents tough.

But when he is electrocuting him, he stays fixated upon the console. Now, one could argue about that (well he has to control the console, he has to focus) but the guy can multitask. I don’t believe he dislikes Snake at all. The torture of Snake doesn’t have the underlying current of personal disgust or interest (unlike Huey) so for Ocelot this torture is more pragmatic and job oriented and doesn’t carry the moments where Ocelot might let his more..depraved sense of self slip in because Snake doesn’t disgust him as a person, Huey does.

Which also tells me Ocelot is capable of separating the two AGAIN. He’s a sadist yeah, but he’s not unreasonable either. He’s a skilled, competent professional. He openly tells Venom about how his Shalashaska moniker got a little bit out of hand, but it’s also something he’s not about to argue with if it’ll help his situation. He’s practical that way.

4. He’s a weirdo, and I genuinely adore him that way.

I need a slight breather and this is already frighteningly huge. Ocelot is one of those characters that is going to be read differently based on the person viewing him. Personal lens I think is going to affect him a great deal, and like with any character, I don’t think there’s a totally right or totally wrong way to interpret him. He’s one of those characters that’s so multilayered and complicated that you could talk to ten people and every single one is going to get something different out of him. And that’s okay! Heck Ocelot would probably agree.

He has some quirks I think are again, as I said above, all him. I think he developed the cowboy fondness and aesthetic on his own. Probably one of the first truly himself things he made after breaking out of the grasp of the Philosophers. To me, he’s got some vanity, and cares about his appearance, but is willing to be practical about that too. (His boots are scuffed and muddy in MGS3, and I don’t know how many personal indulges he has. I like to think he had a pink mustang at one point, because it amuses the hell outta me)

I wish he had this at some point, please let him have this.

The meow battle rally was his idea too. Why? By the time he was called Ocelot he probably thought it was just perfect.

The gun twirling was something he originally intended to be off putting, A way of a younger, less established him to intimidate, annoy and confuse his foe. Overtime *coughs, Snake*, he ingrained it into his personality. Something he choose to keep doing as a habit, and never stopped doing. It’s also incredibly amusing *and kind of touching* to me that Ocelot made Revolver a huge part of his personality and self just because Snake suggested it to him. Snake left an impression on him, big time. Of course, that could also serve as possibly the second most well-known Ocelot fact, couldn’t it?

That being said.

5. Ocelot’s Love for Snake is the most genuine thing about him.

Ocelot loves Snake. It’s a no-brainer to say isn’t it? Least, it sure feels that way sometimes. Why did the Patriots get taken down? For Snake? What did Ocelot spend 50 years of his life dedicated to? Big Boss. How much of the MGS plot as a whole exists because Ocelot fell grave-deep in love with an American CIA agent and never recovered or wanted to? Why does Venom exist? 1. Because Zero wanted it and 2. Because once told it would do Big Boss good, Ocelot was more than on board.

I’d note though that genuine and pure are not the same thing. Ocelot fully, willingly destroyed an entire person at the behest of helping the man he loves the most. There have been countless victims in the trail of this love, and well..this is just fiction, so it doesn’t bother me. It fascinates me. But there’s some genuine more pure elements to that as well. If you broke down all of that, and pushed aside every single complicated element that came of it, (and I’d like to also point out the love isn’t one-sided, Snake had a genuine interest in Ocelot too, enough that people around him questioned it, Snake is just uhm..dense is unfair, maybe not as..obvious?) because if there is one thing that Ocelot just cannot ever be subtle, or transparent about, it’s how much he goddamned loves Big Boss.

Being in love with Big Boss ain’t unique in MGS, but Ocelot is not like the others. He’s not a soldier in the Big Boss cult. He’s not Eva, he’s not Kaz. He’s the one who fell in love and spent his entire life dedicated to helping him, and, ultimately, died for him.

(I also believe Ocelot knew he was queer before he met Snake, but Big Boss activated a real primal feeling within and brought everything else to that forefront). I don’t think Ocelot ever held any strong ideology. He’s vaguely patriotic in MGS3 (completely appalled that Volgin’s willing to nuke his own comrades) but not enough so that it’s going to make him lose sleep, and I don’t believe his speech about Russia losing it’s ideology that he has to Snake in MGS1 really bothers him that much) I think Ocelot crafts those ideologies when he requires it, but at the end of the day, the thing he really, ultimately believes in, above ALL else, is Big Boss. That also might be a very simple way of breaking down an unbelievably complex man, if you really wanted to do so.

6. All the Ocelot Versions are Genuine to some degree (Negating perhaps Liquid Ocelot)

*Liquid Ocelot is a whole other thing that I need another brain to think of and this ask is already way out of hand length wise.

A complaint I’ve seen before is that hypnotized Ocelot in MGSV is out of character because he’s not hamming it up, isn’t being overly dramatic, and isn’t as ‘fun’ as the Major Ocelot of MGS3.  But I have an argument about that. At this point, Ocelot is 38. He’s grown into himself as a person, he’s competent, confident, and has nothing to prove because as far as his blissfully hypnotized self knows, he’s right where he wants to be, at the side of Big Boss. What is there to perform or fake where he’s quite possibly in one of the happiest scenarios he could possibly come up with?

Major Ocelot is genuine as the youngest we’ve seen him. Not only playing a role, but with something to prove. That’s as genuine as a middle-aged Ocelot (again, self-hypnotized but not completely devoid of his personality), and the later, far older Ocelot who is working for Liquid (probably through somewhat gritted teeth) and flamboyant once again because Liquid isn’t Big Boss, nobody else is Big Boss to Ocelot and all the people he’s dealing with are people he doesn’t know and gets to scare, intimidate all over again.

Ocelot is an incredibly dangerous man. A point I haven’t really touched on much but definitely wanted to get there too. He’s skilled, he’s competent, aside of ‘Big Boss’ you almost never know what he’s fully about. He has a mind that would be genuinely amazing to pull apart and dissect. He’s clever and quick and plays mind games on a completely different level than any other, but it’s not just the head. He’s skilled as physically as he is mentally. He’s feared and with good reason. Flamboyant, strange, quirky, incredibly threatening, intimidating, dangerous and morally questionable. A villain, an antagonist, a man I could rotate endlessly in my head and genuinely never get tired of.

I need to pull myself together. I’m going to start talking in circles at this point and I feel bad that I didn’t just really address the MGS3 Major Ocelot as you’d requested, but I have trouble not looking at him as a whole. I am sorry if it seems like I ended up saying a lot and cycling back to saying a bunch of nothing, but I tried.

Meow, and thank you for sending in! These are only some of my thoughts, and I hope this ask at least gave something to work with.

#mgs #revolver ocelot #this is SO LONG it might also be a lot of me yelling and saying nothing #nates headcanons #ask #asks #nate rambles #this got very out of hand #and really i do have more thoughts i just desperately have to reel it in a bit in this ask #character posts: revolver ocelot

[platonic-prompts]

Heard word of oc info dumping and came running lmAO

(This is gonna probably be long so like if you don't wanna answer then by all means no worries!)

-their name is Jay (Jay1L0m10) and they look like an astronaut somewhat, but it's kinda just a suit that's actually their body

-Like there's nothing but what's essentially TV static space matter under there, which is hyper sensitive to the senses

-SUPER long story short, they were a lil dude created out of someone having an overabundance of emotions and affection for life,, who wanted to pour their feelings into another being to give life to something lovely in the terrible world they were stuck in, in the hopes it could find and experience some good when the creator was long gone

-also created to be a entity that could connect with others emotionally, them being able to pick up on others emotions and others being able to pick up on their own

-their creator was taken out, being a fugitive for messing with science and the laws of nature to create a being and many things before it will kinda do that to ya

-They are very cursed

-Like absolutely chaotic

-peak gremlin energy basically

-in the sense that you'd probably find them on the side of a building belting the lyrics to heart of glass. badly

-ace, nonbinary and panromantic

-the spot their face/head would be is a astronaut helmet that displays their emotions in a plethora of colors and figures, they tend to emote through it sometimes

-they're not very vocal, instead preferring to express themselves through body language, noises, colors and images(subjective, they don't often have a set form of an object), and occasionally code if they're overwhelmed

-theyre literally a living stress blanket for people basically it's awesome

-when they were in the process of being prototyped and built, their creator would always have 1920s swing music playing while they worked, (the creator loved it as well as wanting their creation to be consistently in an invironment of Good Vibes tm) so they absolutely love it and start subconsciously doin a lil jig like their creator always did

-since the ain't got no boNes, they end up getting into a bunch of.. strange situations

-as in they could be 50ft up in a tree, fall, squish kinda and bounce back up after a minute of laying there, much to the shock of anyone who just happened to be nearby lmao

-so long as their suit doesn't rip or tear or break in any way they're mostly fine

-they can feel with the suit as if it were a body

-even though they're very chaotic alot of the time, there's definitely moments of total quiet

-in those moments, it's when their fascination with life is the only thing on the mind

-these sessions could last for a couple minutes or even days, anything in nature could start them up

-they sit so still in those moments that they look like they've shut off, and the people (*couGh*foundfamily*CoUgh*) around them tap on their visor so make sure there's still little colors flowing around in there

-they have no idea how they they've existed for, and there's no much indication that the creator left to identify exactly how long. It's been at least a couple hundred years though

-for alot of it they weren't even powered on, their body just completely shut down after they escaped when their creator was being bounty hunted, much to their distaste

-they knew that their creator was a good person, but understood that people thought they were both freaks and lunatics. Didn't mean they didn't want to go sicko mode on the bounty hunters though

-im calling them bounty hunters but the people after them were government officials of some kind who didn't want them kind of science getting into the public

-jay only came back on because someone (*coUGHfoundfamilyCOuGh*) ended up finding them when a sunbeam from their visor hit her in the eye

-she brought them back to the group shelter, there was no way this thing could do any harm in the state it was in was her reasoning

-when the group finally did get them to power on it was entirely accidental. Someone set their hands on either side of the helmet to turn it around in their hands and look at it better and the mild electric current bridge they created through their hands shocked the system into starting again

-when they woke up, they thought they were only out for a couple hours, when really a century had gone by

-they were VERY panicked! Understandably!

-since they woke up and tried balancing into life again, their whole reason for existing came back around again too, and they struck up friendships with the group quickly

-so now basically the world they're all set in is found family slice of life, but I haven't figured out a whole plot yet :p

(Wh e Eze thats alot of writing ooosorrypfFT)

#ive been meaning to do this for awhile asdhsf #lowkey looks kinda amongus but i used one of the newer space suit designs with some older elments #i like jay if you cant tell lol #i kept the life support thingy to balance the design and figured they could use it as a worst case scenario hide away #my art #not my oc though #oc asks

[violettelueur]

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI || WHAT KIND OF WOMAN IS YOUR TYPE

| featuring : fushiguro megumi ft. kugisaki nobara + todo aoi + zenin mai from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, she/her pronouns and spoilers from anime (if you haven’t watched ep 8)

| form : imagine

| word count : 2179

| published : 03 january

| synopsis : taking a short break from their training for the kyoto sister-school goodwill event, fushiguro and kugisaki are sent for fetch some drinks for everyone. however, it seemed like they were suddenly ambushed by a few students from kyoto tech leading for a question to be asked to fushiguro ‘what kind of woman is your type?’

| barista’s notes : well well well i think of a lot of fushiguro imagines don’t i? ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but yeah this imagine idea has been in my mind for quite some time but i didn’t know when i could right it since it was during school when i first thought of it but here it is! right now, i am watching akudama drive and i am really enjoying it right now! other than that, i hope that you all enjoy this ‘on the house’ cup of classic black coffee and please come again soon!

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Perplexed, Fushiguro as well as Kugisaki, shifted their heads to the side trying to convey their confusion to the two students that were right in front of them.

From the beginning, since this absurd question was asked, the two first-year sorcerers were buying drinks for themselves and the second years as an errand due to them taking a short break from training since all of them were preparing for the annual Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event that was coming up in a few weeks.

However, unexpectedly it seemed like two of the Jujutsu Tech students from the Kyoto side decided to come to pay an uninformed visit to the Tokyo side to see what they were up against for this year since the usual third-years - who would have participated - were suspended for the time being as well as the main competition: Okkotsu Yuta being aboard right now for educational reasons.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event,” the large Kyoto student threatened to Fushiguro as he then suddenly violently ripped his purple shirt, showcasing his large muscular body before positioning himself in his usual fighting stance as he then suddenly announced, “by the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!”.

“Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?” Fushiguro annoyingly asked as he began to express an irritated expression on his face with the situation that was in hand.

“He’s right. That’s a tall hurdle for an antisocial guy,” Kugisaki unintentionally comedically commented as she pointed at her stoic classmate, leading Fushiguro to express a more vexed expression as he then stated, “you be quiet. This is confusing enough already. You’ll just make it more complicated,”.

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” the male sorcerer introduced himself. “Introduction over,” Todo then announced as he then continued by saying, “now we’re friends. Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men, that’s fine too,”.

“A person’s fetishes reflect everything about them,” Todo explained as he described the reasons why he was asking his question in the first place. “People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves,” Todo passionately expressed as if he was presenting a school project that he was extremely proud of as he then exclaimed, “I hate boring men.”

“The exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes, who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?” Todo rhetorically questions himself as he stays in his fighting posture as if he was ready to pounce at any second with a confident smile on his face.

“Hey, aren’t the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?” Kugisaki asked in a questionable tone since she was perplexed at the fact why Todo mentioned that it was his last exchange event when he was a third-year student.

“Only third-years and under can join the exchange event,” Fushiguro quickly answered Kugisaki’s question as she then let out an understandable ‘Hmm’ to inform her classmate that she acknowledged what he had just told her.

“As a show of kindness, I’ll let you off only half-dead right now,” Todo once again threatened before repeating the question that started this whole situation, “answer me, Fushiguro. What kind of woman is your type?”

“Is this some kind of comedy routine?” the shikigami user angrily asked, as he increasingly got annoyed at what was happening and was confused on why he was picked.

However, it seemed as if Kugisaki was more observant of the other student besides Todo as she started the other sorcerer’s uniform - who she quickly learned was named Zenin Mai and that she was also Zenin Maki’s twin sister. “Is that your summer uniform?” Kugisaki asked in a light tone, as she admired the outfit before continuing with “ticks me off, but it’s nice”.

Looking to the side, Fushiguro looked at his classmate as he began to analyse the situation that was currently going on. From what he could gather, Kugisaki was unarmed and didn’t have her usual hammer with her like she normally did meaning he was wanting to avoid any confrontation that could happen at this moment in time.

‘Not forgiving people isn’t a bad thing. That’s just part of your kindness, isn’t it?’

Well, that’s what his sister said to him one time.

However, before Fushiguro could finally give his answer to the third-year sorcerer, Kugisaki suddenly lifted her hand and pointed with her index finger to the Kyoto students causing expression of confusion to appear on Todo and Zenin’s faces as they didn’t know the reason for this action of hers.

“Fushiguro’s type of woman is behind you,” Kugisaki suddenly commented.

Unfortunately, before the Kyoto Jujutsu Tech students could even turn around to see what Kugisaki was pointing at, Todo suddenly felt something extremely quick and strong being swung across his face as he fell from the unexpected impact leading to Zenin to look at the scene in extreme shock before sighting a black trainer being placed on his cheek leading to her dark coloured eyes to look up to see who the assaulter was.

“Sorry, you were taking too long to move even though I tried to inform you that I was behind. But you continued chatting rubbish about woman type and fighting and whatever came after,” you commented as you looked down upon the fallen student.

In front of her was a female who was wearing a simple outfit which consisted of a pair of black trainers with the paring on the same coloured high-waisted track pants and crop-top, which Zenin wasn’t sure if it was long or short-sleeved since the female also had a bright red track top on to make sure she wasn’t completed covered in the midnight colour. 

Quickly, Zenin pulled out her gun she had hidden in her uniform out of instinct only for it to be suddenly snatched from her grasp, leading to her weapon to be intimidatingly being pointed at her - the complete opposite of what was supposed to be played out. “Too slow,” you quietly commented as you then turned to look at the second-year with a nonchalant expression on your face causing Zenin's face to twist into a fuming expression.

“L/N! Don’t worry, I got your water!” Kugisaki suddenly shouted, as her eyes shined at the scene that had unfolded right in front of her. There was no secret that Kugisaki admired you, even though you were in the same year as her. Since the day you arrived at Tokyo, Kugisaki immediately noticed how strong and knowledgeable you were as a sorcerer and was especially surprised at the fact when you told her you were a grade two sorcerer rather than the higher grade she thought you were. On the other hand, Kugisaki knew a person that admired you more than she ever could, causing her eyes to shift to the person next to her, only to find him looking at you with a shocked expression but also with bright sparkles in his eyes.

Turning to look at your two classmates, you gave them a small smile as you gave Zenin her gun back before you walked on top of Todo’s body to make your way towards them. “Don’t shoot me in the back,” you mentioned to the female Kyoto sorcerer, as you raised your hand up to wave her off before you grabbed the bottle of water Kugisaki had extended to you.

“Thanks,” you said with gratitude as you took a quick sip of the hydrating liquid, before turning back around to find Todo steadily putting himself back up on his feet as he wiped away the dust from your shoe off his cheek.

“What a roundhouse kick that was?” Todo groaned as he clicked his neck before looking at you with a smug look on his face. “So this is your type of woman Fushiguro?” Todo asked, causing you to look at the third-year sorcerer with a perplexed face before quickly turning to your friend, only to see him with his head turned to the side away from your gaze, viewing the nature scene that was in the open. Although, that didn’t hide the deep blush that coloured upon his cheeks.

“Even though your type disappoints me based on her physical appearance,” Todo stated, causing you to have an irked expression on your face, which was truly evidenced with the clear creases on your forehead before the grade-one sorcerer saved himself from your wrath by commenting, “but she is my type on the way she fights, it is very interesting,”.

This comment of his caused you to instantly prepare yourself for an attack due to the statement sounding menacing leading to your curse energy to flow down to your arms and hands as you were ready to cast any spell that was needed to defend both you and your classmates.

“Are you perhaps L/N Y/N?” Todo questioned as he pointed at you, leading you to look at the sorcerer with a surprised look before nodding slowly at his question as your answer. “So you’re the new famous sorcerer that nearly took down Sukuna at that mission ha? The one that uses her curse energy for casting spells as well as creating curse weapons, no wonder why you took me down with a kick!” Todo exclaimed in glee as he picked up his jacket from the ground before turning his back on you.

“Looks like I won’t be bored the whole time,” Todo fondly mentioned as he turned his head back to look at you before starting to make his way to the exit with Zenin right behind, leaving you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki in confusion on what just happened.

“Since when was I your type Megumi?” you quickly asked Fushiguro, once you saw the Kyoto students disappear from your sights leading to the shikigami user to give Kugisaki the side glare since she was the one that revealed his whole secret crush on you.

“Since the day he met you L/N,” Kugisaki teasing answered for him before she started to make her way back to the track field, leaving you and Fushiguro by yourselves in an awkward situation for the dark-haired boy.

Kugisaki wasn’t wrong. Fushiguro really did like you the second you arrived at Tokyo when you had finally enrolled to Toyko Metropolitan Curse Technical College and quickly admire you as a sorcerer when you were to pass Gojo’s field test extremely quickly, surprising the other first-years since you were the last one to arrive. His admiration and love for you only continued to grow when you were fighting with Sukuna back at Eishu Juvenile Detention Center and somehow managed to go toe to toe with the King of Curses like you and him were on the same level.

“Don’t blush now Megumi,” you cutely commented as you poked his pale pink cheek leading him to give you an offended look before relaxing his express once he saw your smile. “So I’m your type ha?” you asked again in a playful tone causing Fushiguro’s blush to deepen before he began to rub the back of his neck in nervousness.

“Come on, come on,” you pressed on as you desperately tried to get an answer from Fushiguro while a glimmer of hope shone through your eyes hoping what you heard from both Kugisaki and Todo was true.

“Yeah...you are my type,” Fushiguro quietly mentioned as he shyly looked at you in the eye leading you to clearly see his handsome face. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at the sight, even though he was gazing at you like he was confident, you acknowledged it was the opposite and really appreciated how he was coming out of his shell to tell you how he really felt about you. 

Wanting to calm the dark-haired sorcerer, you flicked your finger in the middle of his forehead leading to Fushiguro looking at you in surprise at the sudden action, before you softly mentioned, “you’re my type too Megumi. Come on, the others are probably waiting for us.” 

Gently taking his hand in yours, you began dragging him the same way Kugisaki left you both since you both needed to make it back to the track field. “Also, thank you for buying me the bottle of water,” you suddenly mentioned, which once again, led Fushiguro to look towards you in surprise since it was Kugisaki that told you that she had got it for you.

“I know Kugisaki is a bit too stingy to buy me anything except when it comes to our girl shopping trips, so I already knew it was you that bought me the bottle,” you explained, as you turned to look at him showing the water bottle in your other hand, causing the shikigami user to uncharacteristically smiles at you back.

Yeah, his type of woman was you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jjk fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #fushiguro megumi imagines #megumi fushiguro imagines #megumi fushiguro imagine

[midnightsxxvi]

For You, From Westview (Chapter 5)

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Summary - While choas occurs outside of Westview, you are blissfully unaware. You find yourself writing a letter back to Bucky.

Pairing - Bucky x fem!reader / avenger!reader / fem!reader

Warnings - Lots of angst as per usual. Some swearing. Mention of death of an animal (rip to Sparky Maximoff). The way the timeline lines up with WandaVision is messed up this chapter but oh well. Also this one is a long one but the end is worth it I SWEAR (or I hope?)

Wordcount - 6.7k ...

A/N - I'm sorry it took me so long to write this. I was stuck with one small part for far too long, but I hope it turned out okay. Also here are the sources for the header image: 1. 2. 3.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview, 2023

They did not see you until over a day later. By that time, Bucky was driving everyone up the wall with his consistent open pondering over whether or not you had received his letter.

It was the longest day of his life. Well, not really. He’d unfortunately had worse days. But it surely was not a great day.

Surprisingly, the key reason it felt especially long was because in the span of 24 hours, they had watched Wanda go through an entire pregnancy cycle.

An Entire. Pregnancy. Cycle.

It was one of the strangest things he’d seen. Well, not really. He’d unfortunately seen stranger things. But surely, this was strange.

It was the 70s in Westview. Bucky was bored out of his mind, not really into all the groovy patterns, unfortunately. Monica Rambeau was hanging out with Wanda for a bit, which was when the day finally got interesting. Not that the pregnancy wasn’t interesting, it just was not his cup of tea. Anyway, Rambeau had said that’s foxy over something and Bucky kept repeating that in his head.

Foxy he thought, chuckling to himself. This was not something people said these days, and he had never heard it. Perhaps he was losing his mind a little bit.

Darcy looked at him, “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbled, smiling to himself before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay…”

Dearest Darcy was a gem to Bucky. She let him stick around, answering any question he had to the best of her ability, and also knew in return to not ask him too many questions. Not that he’d mind. He’d grown to appreciate her over the past few days, which couldn’t be said for many other people around. Still, he’d gotten very little sleep, and it was surprising how well he was holding it together.

He let out a small hum of a laugh which caused Darcy to squint at him.

“You think babies are funny?” she playfully accused. In the moment, they were watching Wanda alongside Monica, both caring for her newborn twins.

“The word foxy,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry, what?” She held back a laugh.

“T’s just funny. Foxy.” “Maybe you should take a nap, Barnes.”

With a little smile on his face, he nodded. “I think that may be a good idea, actually.”

“I’ll wake you up if–” something Monica had said on the broadcast caught Darcy’s attention. She’d cut herself off and stared at the screen again. “Woah.”

Bucky, who had not been paying attention and had only been thinking about foxes, switched himself into mission mode. “What is it?”

Instead of responding, Darcy listened attentively.

Saying what Bucky was thinking, Wanda, on screen, asked Monica/Geraldine, ‘What did you say?’ Geraldine did not respond, only stared at Wanda, a little surprised by her own words. Wanda repeated, ‘What did you say… just now?’

Bucky whispered, “What did she say?”

Darcy once again did not reply. This needed to play out first.

‘I said, Wanda… you’re such a strong lady. Should I say it one more time for good measure?’

And then, before anything was resolved, the scene cut. Just like that, Wanda was alone, watching over her sons.

“What the fuck?” Darcy played around with controls.

Bucky’s classic glare was very prominent. “What just happened?”

Darcy rewound, so Bucky could hear Monica’s original words for himself. At first, Wanda was humming a song to her babies. It was calm and sweet, and she said to Monica in a moment of vulnerability, ‘I’m a twin. I had a brother. His name was Pietro.’ Even though Bucky hadn’t known him, the wistful tone got to him a little bit.

Then, Monica said, ‘He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?’

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Did she just say Ultron?”

Darcy was frantically trying to see if she could access the scene that had been cut, but it was no use. “That’s the first time someone has referred to reality. What the fuck, seriously? One minute Monica is right there and the next she isn’t. Someone is censoring the broadcast.”

“Well where the hell did she go?”

Just as he asked, alarms started blaring all around them. Their eyes darted out the window, a view of the forcefield looking the same aside from a bunch of agents running toward it.

“Perimeter has been breached!” Someone called, which was enough to cause Darcy and Bucky to bolt out of their seats.

Breached, Bucky thought over and over, feeling as though everything was moving slowly as he ran to the scene. The logical side of him was putting together the thought that perhaps Monica was shunned from the town, yet the other part of him just longed for the possibility that it was you. It wouldn’t make sense, and there’d be no logical reasoning for it. But was there much logical reasoning to anything these days?

“It’s Rambeau,” Sam was suddenly by their side. He and Jimmy had been off doing god knows what for the past while. Now, it was just like Sam to find Bucky in an instant if need be.

It was night and dark, yet, the three of them saw a bodily figure lying in the grass, far off in the field. A crack in the forcefield was still glowing, yet quickly mending itself, keeping the magic within.

Logic meant nothing. Bucky just desperately wanted you. Leaving Sam and Darcy, his legs carried him as fast as he could to Rambeau, ignoring the other agents who were surrounding her and making sure she was alive.

Her eyes were open and alert, looking around in awe as agents flashed lights in her face, checking her pulse and for injuries. Of course, that Hayward guy was near, stepping right into action.

Bucky wasn’t the only one speaking in the commotion, yet in his panic, all he could hear were his own muffled words. “What happened?”

Rambeau’s voice cut through. “It’s Wanda. All of it. It’s Wanda.”

Hayward placed a hand firmly on Bucky’s chest to gesture that he should leave. “Not right now, Mr. Barnes.”

In a dramatic response, Bucky gripped Hayward’s wrist with his own vibranium grasp, ripping his hold off of his chest. “Don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

Someone was running by a stretcher for Monica. All Bucky could really do was clench his fist and keep his mouth shut, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d either yell at Hayward or bombard Monica with questions.

He swore that as she was lifted in the stretcher, her eyes lost and wild, she looked at him and recognition flashed in her expression.

She was so real. It had all felt fictional until now. Her clothes were the same as on screen, and her face glistened with a light sweat. Just moments ago, he was hearing her character saying things like foxy. Yet, here she was, a different look in her eye, staring at him as though she just knew. This is James.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview - 1980s~

2:08 AM. You couldn’t sleep.

Bucky’s letter had been sitting on your nightstand for the past two days, it’s presence looming even when you looked away. It was weighing on you, trying to figure out what to write back, or if you even should. Any time you’d sit with a pen and paper no words came to mind. You wanted to tell him everything, and in return you wanted to ask him every story of the war, absorb every pain he’d endured. The wondering was too much, and you couldn’t possibly get it down in a letter.

Really, you supposed, what you really just wanted was to see him again.

You’d tossed and turned in bed for hours before finally getting up in a huff, deciding to head downstairs to try and tire yourself out with some TV or something.

Time was moving too fast. Even though you swore the letter was just received about two days ago, it felt like ages had passed.

In a blink, life was flashing by, yet you remained. While you were truly happy for Wanda and her family, and it filled your heart to get to know her sons, and see her so happy, you still went home at the end of a day all alone. The twins were growing so fast, and Wanda’s life was more settled; you watched the neighborhood change, and the library expand, and the town around you simply get brighter.

Everyone’s life was continuing, and you felt stuck.

Tossing on your robe, you made your way to the livingroom to turn a lamp on. Out the large windows, behind the fireplace, the yard was just slightly illuminated in the moonlight. You tucked your robe tighter around your body and went to look out at the night. Not that you could really see much aside from the fences of the neighboring homes and the trees behind the neighborhood. But it was calm and quiet, and you tried to forget reality for a moment.

The day had been weird. Many days were weird, but this one was busier than most.

Wanda had found you on your walk to the library, Billy and Tommy looking frantic by her side. Their dog, Sparky, was missing. Of course, without need to think twice, you helped them search. The boys looked heartbroken, and you had a strange feeling this wouldn’t turn out well.

Alas, Sparky had been found by Agnes, one of Wanda’s other good friends, and it was not pretty.

You’d never even had the chance to meet Sparky, yet there he was, body wrapped up in a blanket after eating too many toxic leaves. Agnes was remorseful, and the tears of the boys really got to you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Wanda had told her sons in an effort to comfort them after the loss. It was so sudden, and you felt at a loss, and then she said what she said.

The boys had a panicked look in their eyes as they stood side by side, and Wanda leaned down and warned them, “Don’t! No, don’t age up!”

You stood a couple feet away, wondering what she meant.

“The urge to run from this feeling is powerful, I know,” she consoled, her hands on their shoulders.

Tommy sniffled, “Mom, you can fix anything. Fix the dead.”

Wanda blinked. “What?”

Agnes spoke softly behind her, “You can do that?”

You remained silent, absolutely confused.

“Sometimes there are rules in life,” Wanda was not speaking quieter. She didn’t seem to care if you heard this. “You can’t rush aging just because it’s convenient. And you can’t reverse death, no matter how sad it makes us.”

You didn’t know why you said it, and you don’t know where it came from, but the words spilled out from you without a thought, “But you did, didn’t you?”

Wanda gazed over her sons’ shoulders at nothing, a spark of fear in her eyes. After a pause, she looked up at you.

Just as she was opening her mouth to say something, Billy said, having ignored your words, “But you said family is forever.”

Wanda looked stuck. She looked between you and the boys, her eyes full of dread.

You stepped in, “Family is forever. She wasn’t lying. Just sometimes it… it’s far away. Even though you can’t hold each other anymore, the love doesn’t go away, right?”

The boys looked up at you know. Tommy’s sad voice nearly broke you. “I’m going to miss him so much.”

“I know,” you held back a breakdown. This wasn’t about you. Who had you even lost? Bucky was alive. And aside from him, who had there been? Still, somehow you knew what the boys were feeling. “I get it. I do. I’m sorry you have to experience this so young.”

“Experience what?” Visions voice cut through as he approached you all. He'd probably been walking home from work and saw you gathered at the end of the street. His eyes travelled to Agnes and the blanket in her arms. It didn’t take him long to piece the scene together. “Oh, boys…” he went over to wrap his arms  around his son.

Wanda stood, stepping back, and looked at you. She was suspicious but not in a threatening way. She simply looked scared.

You tried to process the words she said or the words you said. Nothing felt right.

Something was wrong. There was something she was not telling you.

Looking out your window, you tried to search your tired mind for the feeling of loss, wondering where it came from.

You bit your inner cheek, thinking. Who was there besides Bucky and the people in this town? Where had you been before all this? How did you even meet Bucky?

This was the first time you realized you had no fuckin clue.

You blamed it on tiredness. This was silly. Everything was fine.

Pushing away the thoughts, knowing you’d get nowhere tonight, you went to the television set to put in a VCR, hoping to fall asleep to some rom-com or something. You reached for Grease, turning the volume low, hoping the bright would tire you enough to pass out.

It felt like the moment you laid down on the couch, the instrumental music of the beginning of the movie was already helping you clear your racing mind. Danny and Sandy, the romantic duo in the movie, were running around on a beach in the sunset. You smiled softly, feeling your eyes fight to stay open.

You watched as in the dim light, the couple went for a kiss.

You brought your hand up to your own lips, feeling the soft skin there, and realized I can’t remember the last time I was kissed?

───※ ·❆· ※───

Bucharest, 2015

In complete silence, Bucky hesitantly led you back to his dingy apartment. Although it must’ve only been two minutes, everything felt slow, your pain in your arm feeling worse with every step. Somehow the walk up the stairwell was even worse.

“Will you keep quiet?” Were the first words he’d said since the alleyway and it shook you for a moment.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You keep making grunting noises.”

“I have a wound,” you hissed.

He seemed annoyed, which was annoying. Luckily, you’d arrived at his door. He unlocked it which seemed so wrongly domestic, and then walked in before you.

Instead of thinking, oh my god the guy sleeps on a mattress on a wooden pallet, you thought with relief, oh thank goodness I can finally rest my body somewhere dry. You didn’t care if he invited you to sit or not. This was obviously not some friendly gathering between friends. Before he could even process, you were on his bed, rippin your coat off to try and tend your arm again.

“Do you have a rag or something? I’ve got blood everywhere.” You asked without a care.

He grunted, moving to the kitchen space and digging around. You were oddly surprised when he actually did hand over a nice clean towel, and you felt a little bad that the blood would totally stain the white.

The silence dragged. The tiredness and ache of the cut were taking over your mind so heavily that you nearly forgot where you were and who was standing at the other end of the room. Blinking yourself to be present, you glanced up at him. Here in the dim room, away from the night, he was clearer now.

The furrow of his brows felt different than it did when you knew him. He was colder now, as to be expected, yet it didn’t worry you; he was not controlled by the Winter Soldier at this moment.

“You remembered my name.” You said the moment you thought of it.

His eyes darted away and toward the floor, yet he remained stoic.

“How?” You asked.

You watched as he gulped and then he finally said, “I’ve had time to research a little.”

“Do you remember anything?” Your voice was small, not in fear of him hurting you, but just the fear that everything you’d had was gone from him completely.

Eyes to the ground, he said, “Some.”

Taking time, you knew better than to push.

So, instead, you asked, “I’m sorry to ask, but is there something to eat? I haven’t had anything in hours.”

Looking toward the kitchen, he quietly thought to himself what the hell to give you. What on earth kind of snack do you give your long lost friend who’d somehow found you in an alley, when the last time you saw each other he was trying to kill you? Well: Bucky grabbed an apple that was placed with others on the counter which were in no sort of bowl or anything. Not bothering with a cutting board, he slid a knife out from his pocket and sliced the apple into four equal pieces. Leaving behind the core, he went to you and handed you three of the pieces, keeping just one for himself.

“Thanks,” you told him.

No response. Just a quiet sound which could only be described as a hum.

Your arm was as good as you could manage, and you quietly ate a piece.

It was surprising that he was the one to speak up. “You–” he cleared his throat, “You and Steve. You were… part of my life.”

“Yes.”

“You survived a plane crash with him?”

You nodded. Although you weren’t enhanced with super serum, something to do with the space stone had saved you that day in ‘45, along with the fact that Steve shielded your body from the impact. Really, you shouldn't be alive; it felt like somehow you’d tricked time, finding some sort of loop hole without trying to or frankly wanting to. Your body wasn’t meant to survive a plane crash, and your body most definitely was not meant to survive being frozen in ice for seventy years. Yet, it happened. And for the rest of your life, stranger things just kept on happening.

“You’re human?”

Once again, you nodded. “You are too. Just different.”

He didn’t seem to like that and cringed. “No.”

“Bucky–”

He snapped, “Don’t.”

You didn’t wince. He’d shown peace so far, well, once you move past being pressed up against the wall in the alley.

Briefly, Bucky closed his eyes and then huffed. “I think we danced.”

This was not at all what you expected him to say and it was the first time you faltered. “Um. Y-yes. We liked to do that.”

Once again, he cleared his throat. You watched as his fists clenched and unclenched. “I feel sort of– well, I’m not sure what I feel. It's like, I distantly can feel how I cared about you?”

Now it was your turn to look away as his eyes flickered to yours. How on earth were you to respond to that?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” You whispered back, trying to not take anything personally. You couldn’t really expect that he’d just be the same ol’ Bucky Barnes from the 107th. Just like how the version of you from Brooklyn didn’t exist anymore, you knew that version of Bucky was gone too. It’s just how things were, you supposed. Yet, it still caused your heart to ache, knowing that he remembered what he did. You thought you were alone in the memories, the only one who still held onto it.

Yet there he was, watching you in equal parts confusion and curiosity. “I’m sorry I don’t remember everything.”

You scoffed, which seemed to worry him at first, but then you waved a hand. “After everything you’ve gone through? Don’t apologize?”

The confusion he held took over. “What I’ve gone through? What are you–”

“What?” You cut him off in dismay, “In case you haven’t noticed, some fuckers from Hydra sort of put you through hell and took away any free will and–” He scoffed even harsher than  you had previously. “I have not ‘gone through’ anything. I’ve put others through much worse.”

“Bucky, you didn’t–”

“Stop, y/n,” he scowled. It was pushing now, you knew, so you held back. Only so much could be unpacked in one night no matter how desperately you wanted to tell him everything. “I’m not who you think I am.”

You looked down at your hands, holding the two remaining apple pieces. “Well, neither am I.”

Unsure of what to say to this without yelling at you, he just huffed and turned, going back to the kitchen to deal with the apple core. Although he was not really in a separate room or anything and was not far away, you had a moment to breathe and eat your apple slices.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview

Sleeping on your couch made your back ache but it was the longest sleep you’d had in days. Even though you slept in way past your usual time, you finally felt rested.

After a normal morning routine, you sat down at your desk to write.

Dear Bucky, was all you had written. The words had been staring back at you for days.

You'd been trying to come up with something romantic. Maybe if you spilled poetry onto the page he’d feel your love across the seas so fully that he would feel closer to you.

But poetry is not what you could muster up, and it probably wasn't what he needed. You just wanted to talk. Even though you couldn’t really remember your past, you knew deep down that friendship was the core of it. It was what kept you close before falling in love.

This morning, on your way home from the library, although you had taken the same route as always, you paused near the community centre at a jasmine bush.

Just standing next to it, you could smell the sweet blossoms. You don’t know what came over you, but after glancing around to make sure no one was watching, you plucked a small stem and flattened it within the pages of the book.

The flower, sitting beside you on the desk, was now slightly flattened yet still bright.

You picked up the pen and wrote.

I miss you madly and was so happy to receive your letter. Admittedly, it brought me to tears. However, I hope you don’t feel guilty and you don’t feel a rush. Your work is important.

So, because it’s all we can do for now, I shall speak to you through the pages, doing my best to imagine you’re beside me. I can’t tell what I miss most. Your smile. Your hands. Your voice? Letters will have to do, and I’m grateful that we have even this.

Halloween is already tomorrow, and I’ll think of you with every sweet I have. The town is changing so much, and I fear how lonely winter may be for you. I hope you feel the warmth I hold for you, even from across the ocean.

Wanda and Vision’s boys, Billy and Tommy, have grown so much. I don’t know if you even remember them. Time has moved so fast. Although it aches, I am happy for Wanda and for the happiness she’s found here. I don’t know why, but I know that once things weren’t this way for her.

However, yesterday, her poor little pup, Sparky, got into a predicament and passed away. Even though I didn’t know the pup, I was there when they found him and my heart has felt sorrowful ever since. I can’t place why, but I feel as though I perfectly understand the feeling of loss that the boys are going through. Perhaps you do too.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and everything feels wrong. It feels as though pieces of me are missing and I don’t just mean because of your absence. I have so many questions, and nothing feels correct. It feels against some sort of rule to admit that, but I don’t think I’ve ever held back from telling you anything.

I’m so proud of you, Bucky. I miss you, and can’t wait until the day you’re here. So, because you’re not meant to come back yet, I’ve included in this letter an item for you, from Westview.

I love you ardently,

Yours,

Y/n

───※ ·❆· ※───

Bucharest, 2015

You'd been staring at Bucky’s ceiling for who knows how long. It felt like there was an unspoken rivalry between the two of you, seeing who would fall asleep first. At one point you even wondered if the guy slept at all. Logically he had to; Steve slept, so Bucky probably did too. Yet nope. It was very late at night and he was still sitting upright on his couch, looking out the window at nothing.

You shifted, stretching your arms out. As he shifted his neck briefly to look your way, you knew he was paying at least some attention to your presence.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Hm?”

Tapping your fingers along your stomach, you whispered again, “You gonna sleep?”

“Dunno.”

Lovely answer, you thought.

Although his memory of you was dim, he knew well enough to assume you were not done speaking. So, it was no surprise when you again said, louder this time, “Bucky?”

He sighed audibly. “Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can tell.”

You shifted to sit up this time. “Can we… chit chat?”

“Chit chat?”

“Well sitting here in silence is getting a bit annoying.”

“Then sleep.”

“I can’t,” you snapped, not trying to be rude.

He finally glanced your way. “Then call home.”

“I told you, they’ll get me in the morning.”

“I don’t know how to help you here.”

“You help me by talking to me to pass time.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Okay. Then I’ll talk to myself.”

He muttered something in Romanian under his breath, presumably a swear.

You did not care. “So. What do ya do all day?”

He turned the question around. “What do you do all day?”

“Well!” Your voice got a bit too loud for the middle of the night and he snapped you a look to calm down. “Sorry. Well. When I’m not working… I like to read.”

He stared silently out the window.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I don’t know if you read. But you used to like to. Honestly, books these days are just splendid. Some people get a bit snobby about the ‘classics’ but you know what? The stuff written now is just as amazing. You know Tolkien ended up writing a whole series after The Hobbit, based around the ring? Splendid.”

Even in the darkness, you saw the furrow of his brow deepen. “That was not written today. It was written in the 50s.”

“Aha! So you do pay attention to books!”

He scowled.

You grinned to yourself, scooting back on the mattress to lean against the wall behind you. “Have you read the series?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“I think you should.”

He huffed and lied down as if he’d been trying to go to sleep the whole time and was not just staring at the window for hours. “Go to bed, y/n.”

“You go to bed.

He swore again.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Bucky’s tone sounded even rougher than before. “I can’t.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“That’s not it.”

“I mean. I get it. My mind keeps racing and—“

He cut you off, his admission surprising: “I don’t want to have a nightmare or something and—“ he inhaled sharply, trying to find words and failing to.

Although you’d been trying to be cheery, you frowned. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get sleep. I’ll stay up.”

“I’m not worried. You won’t hurt me.”

He scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

There was a completely different tension in the room, and you felt smaller every passing second. “Don’t say that, Buck.”

“You don’t. You knew me seventy fuckin years ago.”

“But—“

“I don’t even get why you wanted to find me?”

“Stop,” you tried to sound confident but probably didn’t. Still, even if your voice shook, you told him in all seriousness, “Most of those seventy years are void. I know it’s different now. I'm not an idiot. But you don’t get to say that I don’t know you.”

“You don't!” He raised his voice before catching himself, remembering that he had neighbours. “You don't.”

You huffed and stood, which surprised him.

In a weird attempt at a threatening tone, you told him, “I’m coming to sit by you.”

“Wha—“

You shoved his feet aside so that you could sit on the couch. In response, he sat as well. Now stiff beside you, he seemed to be the small one.

“I’m not delusional,” you muttered, staring at the ground. “I know you’re different. You’re not who you were. I know that. And I know that it probably makes zero sense for me to be here with you, but I trust you completely, no matter how stupid that sounds.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I don’t really care. I can’t give up on you.” You brought your eyes up to his, your heart warming when you found that his face was relaxing a little. It seemed to be the first time he wasn’t glaring at someone since the 40s. You continued, “I’ve missed you. Every damn day, Bucky. Please come back with me.”

“No,” his jaw clenched, trying to cover any sadness in his eyes.

“We can help. Steve misses you too, and—“

“No,” he insisted, eyes darting away. “I don’t want to. Plus, I’m literally a war criminal, so I can’t.”

“We can figure it out—“

“Will you just stop? At least for tonight. I don’t want to argue. I can’t go with you, y/n.”

You held back any snide remarks, falling quiet.

Eventually, you said softly, not even directly to him but more as an out loud thought, “I’m just supposed to leave you?”

He nodded. His body language hid the sadness well, but even after all this time, you knew those eyes.

Cautiously, you moved your hand toward him. Not cautious because you were afraid, but because you didn’t want him to be. Your hand found his, holding onto him gently.

He flinched briefly but allowed it. You let him have a moment.

You didn’t know, because how could you possibly, but no one had touched him so gently in seventy years.

“Y/n,” he whispered your name and gazed over at you. In the dim lighting, you could see the blue of his eyes and realized that all along you’d been subconsciously looking for this colour you once called your favourite.

You’d been holding back since seeing him. Not even just today, but ever since you first saw him in Washington a couple years back. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, because you’d done that years ago. This time was not for your mourning, you had instead been working to save him. It wasn’t about you.

Now, it was about the man right in front of you, lost and afraid although he’d never admit it, yet you could see it so clearly. Worst of all, you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn’t push.

Against your will, you felt your eyes sting as tears threatened to push to the surface.

He repeated your name in the quiet. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you insisted, although your throat failed you as your voice cracked.

He shook his head. Hesitantly, he brought his arm over the back of the couch. His eyes were full of fear, but his concern persisted. Although it was far away, his concern for you still remained somewhere in there and he needed to hold onto that feeling for the moment.

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you bit your lip to hold it back. “I don’t know why I’m being like this. I’m just tired.”

Bucky was not in the right mental space to assist towards someone’s emotions, but all he could really remember was that hugs help.

It was very awkward, but he placed his right hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you toward him, hoping it would feel like a request for a hug. However, this did not work, because you just stayed still and stared at his arm in confusion.

“C’mere,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“What?”

He huffed and scooted closer to you, hand moving to your back to find a better way to pull you toward him. This time you got it and hesitantly leaned your body into his, your cheek against his shoulder.

It hit you then, the strangest thing: he still smelled familiar.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. This made him more teense than before if that was even possible, so you almost pulled away, but then he wrapped his hands around your waist.

“This okay?” He whispered.

“Yes. Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

You closed your eyes tightly, holding onto the moment, and holding onto this man who you had been aching for since 1945.

You whispered, “You don’t have to hold me, you know. Don’t do stuff you’re uncomfortable with.”

You heard him gulp, and his hands tightened on you a little. His voice was even quieter as he said, “I want to.”

Your eyes were fully watering then.

It was a long quiet moment as you simply held each other. You tried placing his scent, bringing you back to the old days.

Little did you know, your familiar scent did something to him as well.

They say that scent is the sense most strongly associated with memories. Catching a summer breeze can take you back to a June morning as a child, or a linen scented candle could bring you back to the last memory of your mother.

For Bucky, this smell of you, brought him back more than he could’ve imagined.

“Y/n,” he whispered, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious in the way that he smelled your hair. “Can I say something?”

“Always.”

“Are you sure?”

You held him tighter. “Always. You can always tell me anything. I’d never shun you away.”

He wanted to argue against that, yet the small moment of memories held him back. He knew it was fleeting, but he wished desperately for this moment to stay a little longer. “I don’t remember much, but I– I suddenly remember this one day?”

“What was it?”

“After my dad died? You’d come over. I don’t really remember details, or whoever my dad was, but I remember this for some reason.”

You bit your lip, your face falling against the nook of his neck.

However, Bucky gently pulled away. It was not to get away from you, but instead have you within the space so he could look you in the eye. “I felt something for you.”

You blinked back tears. “Buck, don’t feel any pressure to try and unpack–”

He cut you off, metal hand briefly coming up to your face before pulling away. You had just felt the tips of his cold vibranium fingers, but then quickly felt the warmth of his right hand instead, as he caressed your jaw. The moment was surprising and you were pretty sure he could hear your heart race.

“You were good to me. I’m sorry if I wasn’t in return. I don’t really know who I was, but I do know you were good. I think you still are.”

Your hand placed over his as you leaned into his touch. “You were good, Bucky. I think you still are too.”

He shook his head but didn’t verbally protest. “I’m sorry for how strange this night is.”

You let out an airy laugh, “I don’t care how strange this is. If you’re only letting me get a few hours with you, I’ll accept whatever. I don’t think you understand how wild I’ve made myself while looking for you.”

“I’m sorry it can’t be more.”

“It can be. When you’re ready.”

I won’t be, he wanted to say, and you could see his eyes debating on the obvious retort but he kept quiet. If tonight was all you two had, then that would be enough for him. Bucky believed his soul was lost, all that was meant for him now was a simple life at most, if he was even so lucky. Even that he didn’t believe he deserved. So, having you this night was like a small little miracle; a once in a lifetime moment.

“Can I…” you brought your hand up, fingers landing at the edge of his jaw. He nodded, so you caressed his cheek in return. Somehow the two of you had gotten closer in the past few moments.

You closed your eyes, missing the way his own eyes moved down to watch your lips.

“I just want you to be okay,” you whispered, and he could feel your breath on his.

The pull in his heart was unbearable.

“Can I try something?” he said, barely audible, just like a breath against you.

Your eyes flickered open for a moment, sensing the longing in his stare, realizing he was looking at your lips. Right away you knew what he wanted.

You gave him a miniscule nod, and like that, his lips were pressing to yours.

He was so gentle at first, his dry lips touching you as though you were something delicate. In the moment, you both were delicate, supposedly.

When you kissed back, leaning into him more, he relaxed a little bit, but only a little bit.

The kiss was a stolen moment; it felt forbidden, yet you didn’t want it to stop.

It was too much for Bucky, which you knew as he started to pull away too soon for your liking. You respected this anyway.

His body was pulling away from yours, hand falling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you ensured.

His mouth was parted, his eyes wild with confusion but also awe. “Have we done that before?”

“No,” you whispered as you thought, but I wish we had.

“I’m sorry.”

“Buck, seriously, don’t be. That was nice.”

He nodded in agreement, yet he still looked stressed.

You patted his hand gently before scooting over to give him space. “Thank you.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

You brought your hand up to your mouth, feeling your soft lips against the edge of your fingers, missing his already. “I don’t know what else to say? It's kind of a unique moment.”

If he weren’t so freaked out over himself, he probably would’ve smiled at that.

A million things were racing through your mind, one of them being the desperate thought to try to ask him for the hundredth time to come back to New York with you. However, despite the kiss, you somehow knew the answer wouldn’t change. He was staring at nothing, his mind racing as well, and you wished you could see into it somehow.

After his shoulders began to lose some of the visible tension, you shifted in your seat. “Would you like to go to sleep?”

“I seriously don’t think I can,” he told you. “But you should. I mean, if you’re okay?”

Surprisingly, you found that you were. You gave him a tired nod and stood to ggo back to the mattress before eyeing him and asking in the sleepiest voice, “Come sit by me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Always.”

And so, without a word, he did. He kept a small distance, but sat up with his back propped against the wall as you laid beside him.

You stretched a little, wondering whether or not to say goodnight. It felt strange to just end it all with a goodnight then! So, you said nothing. You only gave him a soft smile, hoping the look would say enough.

Bucky's eyes, always so expressive, made you feel like this was okay. The corner of his mouth upturned for a moment, and his right hand gently placed on your pillow, an inch or two from your head. You reached your hand up to rest on top of his before you finally closed your eyes, letting the sleep take over.

It wasn;t long before Bucky heard your breaths deepen as you fell into a slumber.

Bucky watched curiously. To call this night strange was an understatement.

The thin blanket was just draped up to your waist and he could see the goosebumps on your forearms.

This man believed he was destined for a life of a cold loneliness, ever since the moment he fell from the train tracks.

He pulled the blanket up to drape it over your shoulders, hoping that you’d stay warm.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Next Chapter

taglist: @whore-like-behaviour @matchat3a

#for you from westview #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #Bucky Barnes slow burn #wandavision au #wandavision #bucky x yn #bucky x y/n #y/n

[nini-trash-forever]

Jealousy

Luca Changretta x gn (gender neutral) reader

    Luca had convinced you to come with him to a “business meeting”. He tended to get bored during things like this. So why not bring someone that could never bore him? He was meeting with some of the other Italians so that they could talk about their next move. You were finishing up the final touches of your outfit to fit in at the restaurant the meeting would be at. Luca came up behind you and admired your reflection in the mirror.

    “My love,” he said in Italian as he put his arms around you. He couldn’t help but appreciate what you’re wearing. No matter what you wore, he would appreciate it. You could be wearing a burlap sack for all he cared. You started studying Italian about a month ago so you think you know what he said, but you weren’t sure. Therefore, you just smiled at him through the mirror and hoped for the best. “Are you ready to leave?” You nodded and grabbed your coat and walked out the door to go to his car.

    His car pulled up to a local restaurant, Salerno’s. It’s owned by an older couple who came over from Italy a few years ago. You had met the owners, Gabriele and Sofia, a few times and they were sweet people, they minded their own business but would take care of their customers as if they were family. It’s very homely inside and the smell wafts through the air even from the outside. Luca offered his hand to you and led you inside. The delicious smell of freshly baked bread became stronger the farther you went into the restaurant. You stopped and dropped Luca’s hand.

    You softly greeted Sofia with a smile and a hug. During one of your previous visits, she hinted at you being able to call her nonna, but you expressed you weren’t quite at that level yet, but you might be one day. Luca had never held a meeting here before, but did so on your recommendation. This is also his first time here. So, he was clearly shocked to find out you were somewhat close with the owners. Sofia leaned close to your ear and whispered just loud enough for Luca to hear, “Is this him?”

    “Good evening. My name is Luca.” Sofia didn’t react at first, looking him over for what seemed to be the third time. Was she judging if he was good enough for you? You nudged her a little, but she remained silent.

    “Luca, this is Sofia. She and her husband own this restaurant. They treat everyone like family, especially me. So please be good to them.” Sofia smiled and pulled you into a side hug. She also knew that you weren’t good enough at Italian to understand what she was about to say, and she did so with a smile.

    “If I find out that you hurt them or someone they care about, I will rip out your tongue and serve it up as a specialty for dinner service.” Luca’s eyes went wide with the threat, you were oblivious. “I think it’s time for me to lead you to your table, hmm?” You nodded and followed Sofia, taking Luca’s hand in your own, but for some reason his grip was very loose. You were concerned.

    “Baby, what’s wrong?”

    He swallowed thickly before replying, “Nothing. Just thirsty.” You didn’t quite believe him, but ignored it as you approached your table. You turned to Sofia and thanked her. Luca nodded as a thanks and she gave him a death stare but left to attend to the wait staff. That was suspicious.

    “She said something to you, didn’t she?”

    “Yes.”

    “Are you going to tell me what she said?” You both sat down, him at the head of the table closest to the kitchen and you to his left.

    “No.”

    “Smart man,” Sofia said as she walked towards the kitchen. You laughed wholeheartedly at her response. Now it is just a waiting game.

    Slowly, the people filed into the restaurant. As the meeting time got closer, larger groups came in until almost the entire restaurant was full of Luca’s associates. You were surprised at just how many people were there. The wait staff came through to take drink orders and get those passed out with menus so that everyone could order their meals. It seemed like utter chaos to you, but controlled chaos to Sophia. Sophia made sure everyone’s orders were taken without a problem.

    Orders were delivered to the kitchen where Gabriele and the chefs would make sure they were made to standard. You had watched him work the pass once. It was amazing to see his command and grace running the kitchen and his standard of food was one of the many reasons people came back for more. You knew that there would likely be little to no problems with the food tonight even with a packed restaurant. Within twenty minutes, appetizers started coming out of the kitchen to those who ordered them. Luca had raised his eyebrow at your choice of appetizer because most Italian restaurants weren’t able to get it right (at least in his opinion). You gave him a taste of it, though, and he seemed genuinely surprised at how good it is.

    “Wow,” he said, “that’s delicious! I sort of wish I had gotten one for myself.” You smile at his statement.

    “When this is over I can ask Gabriele and Sophia to make some extra for us to take with us. Would you like that?” Luca hummed and nodded his head in response. He gave you a look that let you know he adored you. The last appetizer was delivered and the first part of the meeting started. This consisted of them going over major changes since the last meeting everyone was at. It then went on to making sure everyone was on the same page about minor changes and decisions. Soon you spaced out and thought of the entrées that were being cooked in the kitchen. You had excused yourself to quickly use the restroom and talk to Sophia for a minute. By the time you got back, the food was almost ready to be served. Once it was, everyone in the room looked like they were ready to devour everything on their plates.

    It seemed that everyone enjoyed their meal and dessert was served not too long after. The meeting continued on after and it seemed as though it was never going to end. You’d silently hoped that Luca could see the boredom on your face. He did. He saw the boredom, but there wasn’t much he could do. Everything being discussed was incredibly important. Eventually the meeting came to a close and most of those from the meeting had left. Some stayed behind to get extra food like you and Luca. One man had stated his wife probably wouldn’t let him in the house if he didn’t get something for her as well.

    You drank quite a bit of water throughout the meeting and decided to relieve yourself once again before you left. There was a problem, though. A man who was in the meeting that seemed to be drunk was standing outside the restroom door. He was giving you a look that made you very uncomfortable and was calling you pet names that made it even weirder. This continued to happen until you stood by Luca who was paying for dinner. The strange man still did not catch on to who you were with as he said a certain phrase very loudly that you would never forget, “Hey, sweetheart! How much is he payin’ for ‘ye? I’ll double it. I could treat ‘ye real nice.” With Sophia and Luca right there, you knew something would happen but you pretended to ignore him. You gave them each a look for them to ignore what he was saying in hopes he would just go away. Eventually he did, grumbling how he didn’t think you were that good looking anyway. Luca’s jaw was clenched during this interaction. You could tell it bothered him. It certainly wasn’t the first time a creepy man had propositioned you.

    It turned out that everyone had enjoyed their meals and most planned to come back with their families in the future. You grabbed the extra food and said goodbye to Sophia and Gabriele and headed to the car with Luca. His jaw was still clenched. You didn’t say anything to him. This wasn’t because you didn’t want to talk, but rather you didn’t know what to say.

    The ride home was a little too silent for your liking. At this point you could feel the anger radiating off of him. He slammed the house door closed. You had tried to talk to him after getting back but he couldn’t handle it at first. You know he wasn’t upset with you. He was just angry that someone would have the audacity to say that to you, and that he didn’t do anything about it (on your wishes).

    After a while, he came back to the room you’d stayed in and kissed you harshly. This went on for a couple minutes and he pulled back. It became very clear to you that he wanted your permission to go after the man who’d said those things to you. You declined. “But, y/n, I just want to talk to him for a—”

    “The answer is no. I will not allow you to go after a drunk man no matter what horrific things he said to or about me. I am not that kind of person. End of discussion.” He nodded in defeat and hung his head onto your shoulder. Some time later, you both made your way upstairs and changed for bed. Snuggled close together, you sighed as you slowly fell into slumber.

    As sleep started to take over you, you briefly heard Luca say something you didn’t understand. “I love and respect you. However, I cannot just let that man get away with it. I will personally make sure he pays. I just hope you can forgive me.” He held you tighter and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

#luca changretta #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader

[actualbird]

Marius be like "I'm the hottest out of all the nxx bitches" but are you the hottest in your family? Checkmate

KJBJDFBKJSD, ANON??? TODAY YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE AGAINST MARIUS VON HAGEN COMPLETELY UNPROVOKED, IM LOSING MY MIND!!!

i (predictably) want to analyze this for too many words than is strictly necessary tho so

// cn server spoilers, how marius' dad looks like

LET'S TAKE A VISUAL LOOK AT THE VON HAGEN FAMILY!!!

hey, quick question, why is this family so good looking? i know the answer, it's because of genes, but good LORD. gonna skip over marius because we all know hes hot but HEYYYY, AUSTIN VON HAGEN, ARE YOU LIKE....FREE THIS FRIDAY NIGHT? i jest of course but he looks great (sidenote: his sprite in game is actually shorter than marius, so the tall genes must have come from dead mom, rip, but man, i wanna see mrs. von hagen, tall waman, sign me UP). but like, looking at how attractive marius is due to how elegantly beautiful austin is, like, giann must look SO GOOD.

i already screamed about how i think giann would look like in this post so i'll move on to how the other nxx bitches, as youve dubbed them, react to how giann looks like!!!

vyn has reacted long ago, marius hasnt met vyn yet when vyn meets giann. vyn and giann founded the Giannovyn Research Center together (guys you have GOT to get better naming skills, u two rlly just put ur names together, it's ridiculous) so vyn knew giann!! and he probs found giann attractive but in a passing way since they were both working on setting up a mental health center together.

artem also got to meet giann at some point. since neil and giann were the original members of the nxx and neil was very very close with artem before he went missing, i figure neil introduced the two. i dont think artem found giann hot because artem only finds people hot once he's drunkenly expressed his deepest insecurities to them, or something.

LUKE AND MC HOWEVER....

okay luke and mc maybe passingly know what giann looks like since giann was like, a Huge figure in society. but they saw him through skimmed news articles or magazines here and there, they never really looked.

so when the day giann (and neil, no nxx bitch left behind!!) are safely found from wherever the fuck they went missing to, after the initial YAY UR BACK vibes, luke and mc are like

luke: your older brother is hot

mc: yeah hes very good looking

marius, covering his ears: I DONT WANT TO HEAR THIS ABOUT MY GODDAMN BROTHER, GUYS, WHAT THE HELL?????

but it's all very playful lol. after a few jokes about it, everybody moves on.

however

if marius is in a relationship (and choose whichever ship you fancy, mc, one of the nxx boys, full polycule, i support it all) and the other party/parties of the relationship express this joking appreciation of giann...

something very dark and afraid hisses in marius' heart

marius is the youngest child. when he was growing up, giann always called marius his "baby brother" which makes sense given that theyre 10 years apart but also. youngest child syndrome is fascinating. giann was the one who took on the business, he was one of the people who started the nxx, he was the one who did things big and meaningful and marius, ever since he was a kid, always felt as if he was in his older brother's shadow.

giann was never bad, of course. he always treated marius well, if a little bit protective and shithead-y (a von hagen trait i assume is consistent thru them all) way. he never did anything to make marius feel inferior. but marius couldnt help but feel that he wasnt good enough. that he'll always be a step behind giann and he'll never, ever be able to catch up

a joke about giann being better than marius in any way may trigger just a whole slew of insecurities for marius, if hes in a relationship. which is SO DUMB, he KNOWS OKAY. he trusts his partner/s and also giann is ENGAGED and so so whipped for his fiancee but feelings dont make sense 90% of the time. marius isnt jealous, hes just afraid that the people hes given his heart to will realize that

hes never been great. and he never will be.

marius tries to not let it show. he hides his fear under overdramatic annoyance, his own dumb jokes, his easy smirk and deflections.

but when youre in a relationship, whatever you feel will always be known somehow.

marius doesnt know what's worse: the fact he feels like this, the fact he thinks he doesnt have the right to want assurance for this, or the fact that

all of this makes him feel so young

he wonders, is he ever going to grow up?

#tears of themis #marius von hagen #giann von hagen #sorry tot tag for spamming today it's the weekend and i need to write AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE before workday again #tot spoilers

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

@rogermeddow

(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)

#the beatles #john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison #george harrison x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #paul mccharmly

[lilyofthesword-writes]

The Intern (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki takes an interest in the latest of a long line of Stark’s interns.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Can be read as platonic, if preferred)

Word Count: 2,809

Disclaimers/Warnings: None. Just a bit of fluff.

A/N: This wound up turning into something entirely different from the original concept. Just kinda went with what felt right. Also trying desperately to remember working with an Arduino board to make this at least semi-accurate.

Masterlist

Loki traipsed aimlessly through the Tower, his overly-friendly insomnia having kept him up past four in the morning again. Nothing seemed to help him sleep and he constantly grew bored laying around in his room waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. Wandering about seemed as good as anything. Sometimes he would come across something interesting. It seems now would be that time.

He rounded the corner and found himself gazing through the wall-length windows of Tony Stark’s lab. The armor-less Iron Man was passed out in a chair, head haphazardly lolling on a table. Usually, he was still working and would be until at least seven a.m. before Pepper would literally drag him to bed.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye. There you were, pulling a blanket out of the cupboard. You crossed the lab and placed the well-used cloth over Stark’s shoulders before returning to your work. Sliding your safety glasses on, you put all your focus into soldering some wires to a board.

What in the nine realms were you doing here at this hour? The sun hadn’t even reached the horizon yet. None of his previous interns ever started their days before nine. Albeit, they had barely lasted a week while you broke a record at just over a month, but the point still stood. Why were you here?

“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper, Loki, or are you going to come in and hang out?” you called out, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the wiring.

Well, this excursion could prove to be interesting. Loki slithered through the doorway to stand opposite of you at your table.

“So what are you doing up this early?” you murmured. If it weren’t for you glancing up at him, someone may have thought it was more of a question for yourself.

Loki huffed a laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

That elicited a quirky smile from you. “Woke up way before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I’d start my day early.” You gestured toward Stark with the soldering iron. “This one over here is pretty lenient on the hours.”

“I would hope so,” Loki chuckled, “considering his own schedule.”

“A schedule that consists of planned energy drink breaks. Definitely one of the more interesting employers out there.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily on his forearms propped on the table.

You set down the soldering iron in its stand and shut if off. “So I answered your question. How about you?”

“I simply could not sleep,” he nonchalantly replied.

“Hmm...” you hummed. “Lemme guess. A member of Insomniacs Anonymous?”

His chuckle reverberated through the room. This was probably one of the reasons Stark kept you around. You certainly had a particular snarky confident air about you.

Yet the corners of your mouth suddenly hung low and your brow scrunched together. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?” He was confused at your change in demeanor.

“It’s not as simple as you couldn’t sleep. There’s more to it.”

Loki’s lips parted in astonishment. Here you were in your first true encounter with him and you read him like an open book. What had you been told?

“I won’t make you say anything.” You held your hands up in a placating manner. “You probably don’t want to, and that’s okay. However.” You grabbed the notepad next to you and scribbled something on it, ripping off the paper and sliding it towards him. “If you’re ever bored and I’m not here, you can text me. I’ll probably answer.”

He reluctantly took the note that had your number written on it. “I cannot say I am very adept with these cellular devices.”

“Pretty sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But seriously, no pressure. The offer is always out there.”

“Wha?!” Stark snorted himself awake, his eyes shooting around wildly. “Rudolf? What’re you doing here?” He eyed Loki suspiciously. “You’re not going to scare away my intern, are you? That’s my job.”

You laughed, keeping Loki from spitting a venomous retort. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to try a lot harder if that’s what you’re going for, Stark.”

“Obviously. You haven’t run off yet. I’m surprised.” He took the blanket that was wrapped around him and began folding it. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“Sure, sure!” You waved him off.

Stark looked at his watch and swiped a hand through his purposely messy bed head. “It’s that time already. I better get breakfast before Pepper finds me... Alright!” He clapped. “Both of you, let’s go! Time for grub!”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up across his forehead. Was Stark actually having him join the two of you for breakfast?

“Yes, you too, Reindeer Games! One, I don’t want you in the lab alone.” That earned him Loki’s scowl. “Two, you seem to be behaving, so why not have you eat with us.”

You nudged Stark’s arm while shooting Loki an inconspicuous wink. “Awww, look at you! Already getting into Dad Mode and little Morgan hasn’t even entered the world yet.”

He nudged you back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now come on. I’m starving!”

You continued to tease him as you followed him out of the lab with Loki close behind.

Loki lay in bed a few nights later, lost in thought. He could not get you out of his head. You had spoken with him like you would anyone else, deflected and stood up for him despite hardly knowing him. In the few years since he had been thrown to Midgard as punishment, Thor was the only one to show him a sliver of kindness, but even he held some hesitation. You did not. Your earlier interaction was genuine. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

In his perpetual deliberation, he had avoided the lab since that morning. Not that he didn’t like you. It was the uncertainty that kept him away, but that wouldn’t last much longer.

His phone settled lax in his hand, your name illuminating the screen. You had been right about him being able to learn how to text. Now it was a matter of completing the action. Tossing the phone to his other hand, he glared at the bright screen. His message had already been written. All he had to do was select “Send”. The clock at the top of the screen read two a.m. Surely, you would be asleep... But what if you weren’t?

With a huff, he pinched his eyes shut and hit the button, the swooshing sound seemingly echoing off the walls. The following silence was deafening. Luckily for him, the reply swoosh fell inline shortly after.

You: Hey, Loki. Can’t sleep?

Loki: How did you know who this was without me saying?

You: I can’t think of anyone else who would text me at this hour. ;)

Loki: I apologize if I woke you.

You: Nah. Already up. Trouble staying asleep. So what’re you up to?

Loki: Texting you.

You: Other than that, Mischief

Loki: Thinking.

You: Yeah? About what?

Loki: Possibly meandering through the Tower, again.

You: Liar ;)

Loki: Pardon?

You: You were obviously thinking about me.

Loki: What makes you say that?

You: You had to be. At least in the context that it would be better to text me than exploring.

Loki: Fair enough. Now, how do you know I am not planning to choose both?

You: You got me there.

—

Loki met you at the lab later that morning. The familiar sight of Stark was passed out, snuggling his face to a countertop, greeted you both.

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh as you passed through the doorway. “Can’t really reprimand him when my sleep schedule is just as bad.”

Loki’s lips curled into a light smirk but didn’t speak a word lest Stark awaken and force him to leave. Despite your two hour texting session, he had been looking forward to joining you here.

“Thanks for meeting me here, by the way,” you called out to him as still stood just at the edge of the lab. “A little company while working is kind of nice. Gets too quiet when Stark finally shuts down.”

Taking a seat across from you, Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Would that not be considered a blessing?”

You stifled a chuckle as you flipped on the soldering iron and pulled out what roughly looked like a vambrace. The board you had been working on previously was molded to the shape. “If that happened by the end of my workday, yes. This early in the morning? Not so much. It’s boring if not a little eerie.”

“I see... So I am only here for your entertainment,” he feigned offense.

You gasped dramatically, “Me? Never!”

Laughing with you, Loki made himself a bit more comfortable as he watched you work. At the moment, you were adding tiny capacitors and securing them into place.

“If I may, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Well,” you started, glancing up at him. “It’s a new piece of armor. Other than that, I technically shouldn’t say much else.”

“Right... Classified information?”

There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you looked at him again. “It is a secret, but nothing quite as official as that.”

Loki leaned across the tabletop, supporting his chin in his hand. “So there is no harm in you revealing your project,” he tested.

“Harm? No. However, there will be disappointment on my end if you figure it out.”

“I accept this challenge,” he grinned playfully.

You smirked back,“As you wish, Mischief. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling.”

The next several weeks chaotically blurred together. At first, you allowed Loki to observe your project as you worked on it. Once the vambrace began to take on a more unique form, you were hiding it in the mornings, opting to take on a different assignment when he was in the room. The design was strikingly Asgardian, leading him to believe the new armor was for Thor. He just needed to figure out what it did. He spoke with his brother on multiple occasions but was unable to glean anything from him. Either he had no clue or suddenly learned to lie well enough to fool Loki, the latter highly doubtful.

Apart from politely harassing you via text, Loki took to locating your hiding spots, something that proved difficult when the lab was almost always occupied by you, Stark or Banner at varying times. Stark was helping you keep this little secret, a sparkle in his eyes whenever he shooed Loki from the room when he was caught investigating. Even Banner was in on it, albeit reluctantly.

Then there was that Doctor Strange who was showing up every few days, joining you all in the lab much to Loki’s chagrin. By that point, Stark had banned him from the entire floor. The project must have been coming to a close if you all were trying to cover it up so desperately. But why Strange? Was he imbuing the vambrace with magic to protect Thor better? (Not that he really needed it.) His curiosity was certainly getting the better of him, going so far as to shape-shift as one of you three when Strange wasn’t around to get into the room. Somehow, Friday always knew and alerted the lab’s occupants who would send him back to the elevator.

It was early one morning as he was perusing the contents of the shared kitchen that you initiated contact with him. He was surprised since he had been the one to text you first lately to see if you would spill your secret.

You: Hey. Can you stop by the lab?

Loki: Oh? I thought I was banned.

You: Lifted as of a few minutes ago. So?

Loki: I suppose I might be able to grace you with my presence.

You: So kind of you, my King ;)

His heart skipped a beat at you calling him “your King”. You only used it in a teasing fashion when he was acting high and mighty. Even then, it still flustered him.

Loki made his way to the elevator, deeming it a bit devious to take the long way to the lab. You had made him wait all this time. It was your turn.

The doors reopened on the lab floor, revealing that his ploy to annoy had worked. You were leaned against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally! Come on!”

You audaciously grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room with an impatient grin. Stopping him near your normal workstation, you demanded he close his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he responded incredulously, ripping his arm from your grasp.

“Please, Loki...” Your pleading eyes grew larger as you pouted at him.

Stark groaned, “Just do it, Reindeer Games, or I’ll cover them for you.”

Loki’s lips reared into a snarl as he glared at the billionaire before relenting and clenching his eyelids shut. Norns, how he hated those nicknames.

“Okay!” Excitement laced your voice. “Would you hold up your dominant hand?”

“Making more demands, Darling?”

“I did ask nicely this time.”

“That you did,” he chuckled a complied, holding out a hand.

“Perfect!”

He felt a metallic weight placed on his forearm before it was clasped together with a comfortable tightness.

“Okay. You can look now!”

The sight of the vambrace on his arm left Loki’s mouth agape. The main black of the piece was lined with gold Asgardian knot designs with runes placed in a handful of the empty spaces. Near his wrist, an artificial emerald was embedded in the armor. If he had to be completely honest, the aesthetics could rival much of the armor back home.

“Well, Kid. It looks like you rendered him speechless.” Stark nudged your arm.

Loki’s gaze shot up to the two of you. Stark was leaning against the workstation while you had hoisted yourself to sit atop it, nothing but grins on either of your faces.

“What is this-”

You cut him off, “It’s for you. We noticed after some of your missions where you had to use your seiðr more than usual, you’d end up exhausted before getting back to the Quinjet. The new armor should help with that. It’s supposed to amplify your magic without draining you.”

Stark shoved you lightheartedly, again. “The kid noticed. Told ‘em if they could come up with something that could work, I’d give whatever resources needed for the project.”

“So what do you think? I mean we still need to undergo more testing and calibrations before you can use it in the field, but-”

“You made this?” Loki locked barely tearing eyes with you. “For me?”

“Yup! Kid designed the whole thing!” Stark kept you from answering. “Minus the bits we had to bring Strange in for the wizard-y things, this was a solo run. Did a pretty good job. Not sure I could have done much better.”

“Stark...” you grumbled, clearly not used to the praise.

“This is...” Loki tore his gaze away back to the vambrace. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

“A ‘thank you’ would be a good start. Now maybe this little intern will get more sleep,” Stark blundered before checking his watch. “Well, it’s about time for my morning scolding. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me!”

With that he whisked himself out of the room and to the elevator, leaving you and Loki in a terribly awkward silence.

“Hey...” you started. “If you don’t like it, we can scrap the design. It’s not a big deal-”

“Thank you.” His pupils were filled with a sincere gratefulness that few had ever seen before. “This is... This is simply splendid.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Loki spun on his heel to fully face you, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of you. “I mean it, Darling. This... No one has ever done something like this for me before. I would be honored to be your test subject,” he ended with a smirk.

“Well, if that’s the case,” you grinned right back at him, “I’d say let’s get some breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to optimize the vambrace later.”

Pulling back enough to release you from his cage of arms, he gestured for you to lead the way. “After you,” he breathed.

Hopping down from the table, you held out a hand for him. Hesitantly, Loki took it while running a thumb over your knuckles as you pulled him to the elevator with you.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #marvel avengers #loki of asgard #loki fluff #avengers #the avengers #tony stark #iron man #pepper potts #bruce banner #doctor strange #thor odinson #thor marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david x reader #dwayne x reader #marko x reader #paul x reader #male!reader #poly!lostboys #lost boys fics #decay fic tag #requested

[when-they-write-stuff]

SterekWeek2020: Day Four (Soulmates)

~

The soulmark appeared on Derek’s skin the day he turned eighteen.

It had been excruciating at first. He’d been in the apartment with Laura grumbling about the store-bought cake she’d picked up, even though he said he didn’t want to celebrate, when he’d felt like his skin was on fire. And Derek wasn’t used to pain. Not like that, at least.

It had taken him back to so many years ago, kneeling in a layer of ash while he watched his childhood home go up in flames. And for the first time, Derek had wondered if this was what it felt like to be burned alive.

But he hadn’t died that day, no matter how much he felt like he deserved it. And when Laura had shaken him awake moments later, a cool cloth pressed against his bare skin, Derek had realized there was a mark left in wake of the pain. One on his back, inked into his skin.

He was lucky, Laura had said after seeing it. Not everyone got a soulmate.

Derek hadn’t felt very lucky.

Kate never had a tattoo. Derek remembered that well enough, from this one night when his skin had been bared to the woman and she’d laughed when he asked. They weren’t meant to be soulmates, Derek knew. But part of him had still hoped.

He and Paige had been too young. And after her death, Derek thought that if it was meant to be, he’d never really know for sure.

So he got his soulmark when he’d turned eighteen. And in the years after that, Derek never came across anyone else with the marking of the Triskelion on their skin. He didn’t really know if he could consider himself lucky for that or not.

But then Stiles Stilinski came along.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

-

Stiles used to have this dream. 

From the moment he met Lydia Martin, decided she would one day be his wife, and spent every moment after that thinking about her, he’d had this dream. That one day, they’d get matching soul marks. Tattoos, inscriptions, symbols, whatever. He’d seen it all. 

His dad still had the inked-mark that he and Stiles’s mother had shared. It was dull grey now, fading with every day, but it was still there. And Stiles knew that one day, he’d have one too. He didn’t know how exactly he knew, but he did.

Or maybe he just hoped. Hoped so hard that at some point, he’d convinced himself it would happen. He had this dream with Lydia Martin. That one day, they’d be soulmates.

It never happened.

Stiles turned fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and realized that maybe Lydia Martin wasn’t for him. It might’ve all started when Stiles stumbled across a certain angry-eyebrowed werewolf, but he’d never admit that out loud. Because some part of him still clung to his childhood dream; one of red hair and sharp green eyes. Something that was safe, sound, and long before werewolves.

Except after a while, Stiles’s dream changed. It turned into one of grey-green eyes that were sometimes red, sometimes blue, and sometimes gold.

Stiles fell head over heels for eyes that never stayed one color. And his dream changed from red hair to that of raven black, a triskelion marked into the skin of Derek’s back. A tattoo that Stiles caught sight of one day, his heart nearly stopping when he saw it.

Because not everyone got a soulmate. But the soulmark meant that Derek had one.

Stiles was seventeen-and-a-half when he realized that once again, the person he loved could never truly love him back. And he thought he could learn to live with that. Eventually.

Derek didn’t make it easy.

The first time Stiles came home after lacrosse practice to find Derek waiting in his bedroom, he’d nearly committed murder. But it wasn’t his fault that werewolves did creepy things like chill in the dark, okay? And it didn’t help that Stiles would have liked to have Derek in his bedroom on literally any other occasion that didn’t involve possible death. 

Which at first, he really thought was going to happen. That the man was actually going to rip his throat out or something. 

But instead, Derek had proceeded to give him a list of ‘research needs’ before leaving. Needs which Stiles very nearly threw away, except he liked having a throat, thank you very much.

So he didn’t. And in the days, weeks, and months that came after that, Derek kept showing up. Kept showing up, hanging around for a few moments, and then leaving.

Like an asshole.

Stiles thought it would be so much easier if he could hate Derek as much as the man obviously hated him. Anytime they were stuck in the same situation together, Derek seemed to make sure Stiles understood his distaste. From when they’d first met to any time after that.

And okay, maybe Derek didn’t hate- hate him. Not as much as he used to, anyway. But Stiles was still pretty sure the man might one day rip out his throat. Just because.

It was like the Lydia Martin situation all over again. Stiles was there, Derek was there, and Stiles was so hopelessly pathetic.

Derek didn’t make anything easy.

“You know one day,” Stiles said, when the werewolf swung through his window for the third time that week. “I’m going to be off at college and you’re going to have to look for someone else to be your precious little researcher.”

Derek paused at that, looking confused. Stiles raised an eyebrow and Derek grunted after a moment, moving forward.

“You’ll come back.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles said. “And why would you think that?”

Once more, Derek looked disturbed. “Because it’s you.”

“Dude,” Stiles said. “I’ve got one more year left until I graduate. One more year of supernatural threats appearing literally every other day. Do you really think I plan on sticking around for even more after that?”

Derek just stared.

But Stiles had thought this through, he really had. He already knew his dad wanted him as far away as he could get, though Stiles had been dubious at first. Except then he’d nearly died by a witch curse the day after, and that had made up his mind pretty quickly.

And it wasn’t like his hopeless pining for Derek had anything to do with it all either. Totally not.

In the silence, Derek’s brows had drawn together. Stiles stared at him, a little surprised the man actually expected him to stick around. Because it wasn’t like it would matter if Stiles left. Sure, the pack would lose one mighty grand researcher. The betas would have to go somewhere else when Derek got tired of their teenage angst and kicked them out. And sure, there’d no longer be any easy human bait to lure in the Monster of the Week.

But that’s really all that Stiles was good for.

“Alright then,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What did you bring for me to research tonight?”

Derek gave him a long, silent look, face unreadable. Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, earth to Sourwolf?” 

“Nothing,” Derek said, turning away. Stiles blinked as the man pulled himself right back out the window, sitting still for a moment before shoving himself up and stumbling after him. But by the time he looked out into the darkness, the roof was empty. So was the lawn.

Stiles blinked again. Then frowned. “Okay then, asshole!”

He didn’t get an answer.

Stiles really didn’t understand Derek Hale sometimes.

-

So many things had gone wrong in Derek’s life, he really should have expected this to go wrong too.

This being Stiles Stilinski, of course.

In the month after his impromptu visit to Stiles’s bedroom, Derek had been drastically cutting back on seeing the boy. Only when it was really necessary did he show up at Stiles’s window, reverting back to the old days when he’d drop off a list of ‘research needs’ before leaving again.

So many things in Derek’s life had gone wrong. He really just didn’t understand why this would fall into the list.

Because it was Stiles Stilinski. Stiles-hyperactive-skinny-annoying-Stilinski. Derek didn’t exactly hate him, not anymore, at least. Maybe not at all. Not since that one night, at least, when Derek left the Stilinski house feeling a little bit confused and a little bit empty for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

It took him a month to figure out exactly what part of their last conversation had shaken him so.

Stiles was leaving.

One day, Stiles was going to leave Beacon Hills.

Derek didn’t think that mattered until it sunk in one night as he watched the pack gather around the TV for the Friday night movie. His gaze lingered on Stiles and when Derek finally put two-and-two together, realizing this wasn’t going to last forever, that confused and empty feeling came back.

And Derek realized that at some point, he’d fallen in love with Stiles Stilinski.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

Some part of him thought all of that sounded about right. Derek had fallen in love a few times in his life and it never worked out. Well, if ‘not working out’ consisted of having his teenage girlfriend killed and family murdered.

So, of course, it’d be Stiles. Stiles, who Derek couldn’t stand. Stiles, who Derek had never been able to shake.

Stiles, who Derek stared at right now and realized with a pang that he was in love with the idiot.

“Uh, hey, Sourwolf?”

Snapping back to reality, Derek realized Stiles was staring at him. His chest suddenly constricted and he felt like he’d had a mini heart attack, earning a strange glance from Boyd. Clenching his jaw, Derek turned away and glared at the opposite wall, trying to figure out when things had gone wrong and why the hell he was feeling like he was about to claw his way out of his skin.

Lucky, Laura had said once. He was lucky because he had a soulmate somewhere out there.

One that wasn’t Stiles Stilinski.

Before Derek’s heartbeat could betray him any more, Derek turned around and grabbed his keys, starting toward the loft door. Stiles sat straight up as Derek passed him, the boy’s scent flaring with confusion.

“Dude, Derek?”

“I’m going out,” Derek growled, not even turning around. He could feel the others staring at him in confusion.

The door slammed at his back.

And despite it all, Derek barely managed to wait long enough to get outside before he was yanking his shirt over his head and taking off at a run.

-

Stiles turned eighteen a month before he graduated. 

That’s when he woke up to it.

The ink curling around his neck, that is. Stiles went through most of his morning completely unaware, hopping into the shower without glancing into the mirror and stumbling around his room looking for clean clothes afterward. He didn’t even bother to mess with his hair, figuring he was already running late enough as it was.

It wasn’t until Stiles stumbled downstairs and noticed how his dad stared at him like he’d grown two heads, that Stiles realized something was wrong.

“Um, son?”

Stiles blinked at him, but his dad’s attention was fixed solely on his neck. Reaching up unconsciously, Stiles rubbed a hand over smooth skin. “Yeah?”

“Is that a...?”

Stiles stared. Then broke away, stumbling into the bathroom and yanking down the collar of his sweatshirt.

And there it was. Patterns of black ink that curled into three different spirals; a soulmark that Stiles had seen before. But more importantly, a soulmark that Stiles had seen before while being so sure it would never be his own.

For a moment, Stiles just gaped.

Then he had a panic attack.

To be fair, there was a difference between pining over Beacon Hill’s grumpy-growly Alpha werewolf and actually thinking that he stood a chance. Stiles could drool over Derek all he wanted. He’d figured long ago that it would never add up to anything.

And Derek was probably going to kill him for this. Gut him. Rip out his throat before anyone could figure out that Derek Hale was the soulmate of Stiles Stilinski.

He was so dead.

By the time Stiles had finally calmed down, his dad was pounding on the door and saying something that Stiles couldn’t catch. All he could do was stare into the mirror, wondering faintly if he was still asleep and all of this was just a dream. 

Derek was going to kill him. 

Unless Stiles avoided the man as much as Derek had been avoiding him, that is.

The thought struck him like a blow. Stiles blinked at his own reflection and then cursed, yanking his collar up around the mark. Finally unlocking the door, he stumbled out of the bathroom and did his best to brush off his dad’s questions, head spinning. Because until he could figure this all out, Stiles didn’t even want to think about the mark currently on his skin.

It felt like it was burning, but maybe that was just in his head. And oh god, Derek was so going to kill him. Unless— unless— maybe Stiles could skip town. Or the country. Or something.  

He didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped. 

Stiles ditched going to school and avoided the pack’s calls, his mind going in circle after circle. He faintly recalled Scott having said something about him going to the loft that night, but Stiles was too terrified to leave his room.

Instead, he waited until his dad left for work, the man still looking unsatisfied as his eyes stayed glued to Stiles’s neck all the way out the door. Then the moment he was gone, Stiles tore off his shirt and raced back into the bathroom, running his fingers over the triskelion on his neck.

The last spiral stopped just above his collarbone. If Stiles pulled his collar up high enough, it almost hid away the entire tattoo, but standing shirtless in front of the mirror, Stiles could just stare, tracing the soulmark over and over again.

He’d been crushing on Derek Hale for years. Years.

He didn’t think Derek felt the same. 

Especially as of late, after the Sourwolf had suddenly stopped showing up at his window. The last straw had been when Derek had stormed out of the Friday movie night three months ago and then proceeded to skip each one after that. 

Stiles didn’t know if it was him or just Derek Hale being Derek Hale. But he might as well have been non-existent every time he tried to call or text Derek to find out.

Groaning, Stiles grabbed his shirt and trudged upstairs. This was it. He was going to have to live out of his bedroom until college. He was going to have to wear turtlenecks until graduation. Stiles was never going to be able to go back to the loft ever again.

That was his beginning thought process, at least. But then his window was shoved open.

Stiles yelped and grabbed the nearest blanket, wrapping it around himself tightly. For a moment, he half-expected to see Scott, because he’d been ignoring the boy’s texts all day. But then Derek pulled himself through the window instead.

And Stiles nearly had another panic attack.

As if he could tell, Derek froze. The man still had one leg outside of the window and he pulled himself all the way in carefully, raising his hands in surrender. Stiles just stood there, blanket wrapped around himself, staring in silent alarm.

Derek’s eyes narrowed as they searched his face. And then they went to his neck.

Instantly, Stiles was bunching the blanket up even higher. Derek raised an eyebrow and stepped forward, still staring at that now hidden spot of Stiles’s soulmark.

“Stiles, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is wro— nothing’s wrong!” Stiles said quickly, retreating a step back. “Absolutely nothing is wrong, big guy. I’m just, um, sick. Very sick.”

Derek stopped, his expression going flat. “You do remember I can hear you lie, right?”

Stiles internally cursed himself. “Of course, I do. But I’m fine.”

“Hm,” Derek said, not looking convinced. “What are you hiding, Stiles?”

And now wasn’t that the million-dollar question? If it weren’t for freaking werewolf hearing, Stiles would have continued lying his ass off. But as it was, meeting grey-green eyes that seemed to look right through him, Stiles just stayed silent. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Scott said he texted you.”

“Yes, Sourwolf, he did. Multiple times.”

“So you know the pack is waiting at the loft, then.”

“For…?”

Derek’s left eye twitched and the man’s ears turned a little red. Stiles blinked, confused for a moment, before nearly choking on his own breath. 

“Oh my god,” he said. “I told Scott I was spending my birthday at home!”

“It was the pack’s idea,” Derek defended, folding his arms over his chest. “Not just Scott’s.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Does that include you?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. He didn’t need werewolf hearing to notice how Derek’s face tightened and the man avoided his gaze. “You're lying.”

“I am not.”

“You’re totally lying!” Stiles said again. He stepped forward, but felt a small tug on the blanket. Glancing backward, he spotted where it had gotten caught on the edge of his bed and cursed, trying to maneuver it free.

That’s when Derek yanked on the other side of the blanket.

“Hey, wait— asshole!”

Stiles spun around, clapping both hands over the spot on his neck as if that would do anything. But Derek had already gone stock-still, eyes wide and face pale. The man’s gaze was fixed solely on the spot where the triskelion was.

Stiles’s heart plummeted. For a moment, they both just stood there.

Then Derek stepped forward. Stiles stepped back.

“Okay, okay, I know what you’re going to say…” He said, then paused. “Actually, I don’t. But I have a fair idea and as long as it doesn’t involve ripping this token human’s throat out, I’m pretty sure I can take whatever rejection you’re about to dole out. Just make it quick, big guy, would you?”

Derek stopped too, looking at Stiles like he was crazy. The man’s eyes were still a little wide, but they weren’t red and Stiles didn’t spot any claws, which he supposed was a good thing.

Stiles waited, slowly lowering his hands. Derek stared at the mark for a long moment before looking back at him.

“That’s new?”

Stiles tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Sort of.”

“Today?”

“I mean, I really thought I’d be able to keep it hidden longer—”

“Why?”

Stiles blinked. “Uh, I don’t…”

“You don’t want it,” Derek said, cutting him off. The man looked a little pained. “You didn’t want it.”

And that was the exact opposite of what Stiles expected Derek to say. To be honest, he’d been waiting for something along the lines of ‘why you? Why Stiles Stilinski?’ or whatever else rejection entailed. But Derek actually looked hurt and Stiles had no idea why.

“Um,” Stiles said, once more floundering unsuccessfully for words.

Derek was starting to look like he was about to go for the window, and if Stiles knew he’d probably never see the man again if that happened. So moving forward, Stiles caught Derek by the arm. The werewolf jerked like he’d been burned.

Quickly, Stiles let go. But he didn’t step away, not yet. “Dude, it’s not like that. I’m just so confused.”

“You were going to hide it,” Derek said.

“Because I didn’t want to get my throat ripped out!”

The man’s eyes flashed. “What?”

The conversation was taking so many turns, Stiles didn’t know how to react. So instead of saying anything else for a moment, he just raised his hands. And Derek actually seemed to relax a little.

The silence didn’t last long though, before Derek was clearing his throat. “Did it hurt?”

“Hurt?”

“The tattoo.”

“No,” Stiles said quietly, searching his face. “It was there when I woke up.”

Derek looked uncomfortable for a long moment. Then he dropped his gaze to the bedroom floor, shuffling from foot to foot. “So it’s a bad thing, then?”

Was it a bad thing? 

Stiles was so surprised, he actually could have laughed.

Because he used to have this dream, right? This dream of soulmarks and Lydia Martin. Or maybe it was less of a dream and more of an attraction back then. But then he had this fantasy. This fantasy of glowing eyes that never stayed the same color. 

That too, he’d abandoned before it could break him down.

Was it a bad thing?

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “Nothing about this could be bad, Sourwolf, ever. Unless you plan on ripping my throat out, that is.”

Derek stared at him. Then the man actually rolled his eyes. “What is it with you and getting your throat ripped out?”

“Alright, big guy, you were the one that made that threat in the first place.”

“Three years ago.”

“It was a very impactful moment!”

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles blushed, running a hand through his hair. “Not like that, asshole.”

“Hm.”

For a moment, Stiles entertained the idea he was dreaming again. But then Derek stepped forward and there were calloused fingers tracing over the tattoo on his neck. Stiles froze, a shiver running down his spine, and Derek paused for a second.

“Is this okay?”

Stiles closed his eyes, turning his face into the touch. He could’ve sworn he heard Derek growl at the back of his throat to that.

“Stiles—”

“Yeah, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, opening his eyes to look back at the werewolf. The words stuck in his throat, just a little. “This is okay.”

This time, when Derek’s eyes sparked red, it was anything but threatening. He was closer now, Stiles realized. Close enough that Stiles thought if he wanted to, he could kiss the man.

He wanted to. Oh hell, he wanted to.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Stiles swallowed nervously, Derek’s fingers unmoving where they touched his neck. Where they touched the soulmark that Stiles had never expected to show up. Not on him. Not identical to the one of Derek’s skin.

He used to have this dream—

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to finish that thought before Derek moved forward and kissed him first.

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #soulmates #sterekweek2020 #sterek au #teen wolf au #derek hale x stiles stilinski #ficlet #sterek edits

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

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Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x witch reader

[capricorn-stark]

Othello

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am, kinda short, swearing

a/n: i got strong feelings towards Othello, The Catcher in the Rye, and Jason Todd, but this one’s for @tadpole-san smirk smirk smirk

part 2

You liked studying at Gotham University’s library for the ambience. 

Whether or not you got any actual “studying” done depended wholly on your mood and whatever being that may or may not have been watching you from above, but even if you somehow managed to procrastinate the entire time you were there, at least you could walk back to your dorm with the comforting fact that you had gotten in your cardio for the day. 

The place itself was gorgeous with its overarching ceilings, long hall lined with pillars supporting a seemingly endless array of books, the cozy golden glow of the lights, and the generally pleasant atmosphere provided by the myriads of students sitting around its tables and lounging on its couches. The entire campus was stunning - but it would only be surprising if it wasn’t thanks to the very generous grants from patrons of the Gotham elite, most notably people like Bruce Wayne.

You had a particular spot you liked near the edge of the library, in a little corner mostly surrounded by shelves with enough space for a few usually-unoccupied couches. Aside from you, the only regulars to sit there mainly just consisted of one other guy who recently had started to drop in every few days or so to listen to music and do his own work. You didn’t mind him - he never bothered you, and you both kept up your mutual solidarity towards maintaining a very comfortable silence.

That was, until one particular day.

“Is that Othello?” You glanced over the book in your hand and saw the guy’s startlingly green eyes gazing right at you over his dark-rimmed reading glasses. He wasn’t wearing his earbuds as per usual, so you figured your agonized sigh of boredom must’ve come out a little too loudly. 

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slowly lowering the book a little. “Unfortunately.” He cracked a slight grin at that.

“What, you’re not a fan of Shakespeare?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you started with a fairly nonchalant shrug, “I just think this book in particular is just kinda-”

“Boring as fuck?” he finished very eloquently, causing you to grin back despite yourself. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“I can agree with that,” he said with a nod towards the book. “Definitely not one of my favorites, that’s for sure. Good premise, dynamics were pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really get into it either.” The fact that he was discussing Shakespeare’s works in a way that suggested he had fully read the book (without wholly relying on CliffNotes) and that he did perhaps genuinely enjoy some of them suggested to you that he was probably an English major. “And Iago was a bitch-”

“I know!” you nearly exclaimed, throwing your hands up in very evident frustration. “Iago was shady as hell, and I don’t get how Othello never saw it coming from him. Like, no one can be that oblivious, come on. I wouldn’t have listened to him.” RIP to Othello, but you were different. 

He was actually laughing at that point, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You and me both. You an English major?” You shook your head, holding up your Psychology Twelfth Edition textbook that had been resting on the table beside you.

“Psych.” He raised a brow and you inwardly sighed.

“Jeez - at GU? I’m impressed.” 

Being a psych student at your particular Gotham-based university was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse. The classes were phenomenal and your professors consisted of some of the best and most experienced in the nation - but that also came with the downside that the city you lived in had some of the biggest psychopaths and the largest insane asylum in the nation as well. 

Well, you win some, you lose some.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to say, but the smirk playing at his lips proved that you weren’t convincing anyone. “Let me guess, you’re an English major.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpanned, chuckling regardless as he closed up his own book and extended a hand out. “Name’s Jason Todd. I’ve seen you around a lot, but we never really talked, huh?” You smiled as you reached out to shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.

“I guess not. You usually look like you’re pretty busy.”

“Something like that,” Jason grinned, leaning back against his chair and sliding off his glasses. Without them, the lights somehow gave them an almost glowing effect. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to bother you.”

Bantering over Shakespeare with a cute boy wasn’t exactly your definition of being bothered, so you shook your head.

“Believe me, that was a lot better than Othello was.”

You saw Jason at your spot again the next day, then the day after and the next, lounging across from your couch and always seeming rather out-of-place with his black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but a welcome sight to you nonetheless. And just like that, suddenly, your visits to the library weren’t just for the sake of cardio and the ambience anymore.

He was surprisingly amusing to talk to, whether it was complaining about more books for your respective English courses or just ranting to each other about the struggles of being a student at GU. It was easy to bond over things like getting your midterms interrupted by random threats from the likes of the Riddler, or arguing over whether or not the city’s latest vigilante, some guy named Red Hood, was actually cooler than Batman himself. 

He had been particularly passionate about that last debate.

Aside from being easy-going and annoyingly attractive, you also figured out that he was ridiculously smart, especially when it came to helping you with your English course. Whether it was explaining the deeper societal message behind a particular reading or helping you research topics for your thesis, Jason had a knack towards figuring out exactly the things you yourself seemed to struggle with. 

“How do you figure all of this out?” You asked one day out of sheer disbelief after he connected The Catcher in the Rye to themes of disillusionment about innocence and one’s childhood, and not just towards the protagonist, Holden, being an ass. “Seriously, I thought I was pretty decent with this stuff, but you blow me out of the water.”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, sliding off his reading glasses and setting it on top of the wooden table you were at. You had grown fond of the way they looked on him.

“It’s nothing special,” he dismissed in response, lifting his gaze from the book to fixate it back on you. “You do great by yourself, I just kinda give you a little push with my interpretations.” 

He did that a lot - downplaying the fact that he was actually smart as hell like it really was no big deal. The way your grades had started rising after he started helping you out proved otherwise, though.

“Still, thanks for helping me out,” you insisted, eliciting another slight smile from him. “It means a lot.” 

“Oh yeah?” His tone had gotten cheekier as he leaned closer to you. “How much is a lot?” 

“That’s up for you to decide,” you smirked, moving back and closing up your laptop. “Not me.” 

“You know, if you really wanted to thank me, you should get a coffee with me sometime.” 

“We get coffee together like every week,” you deadpanned and he sighed.

“Not like that. Like a date.” 

It hit you like a truck.

“A date,” you repeated, like you hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“Only if you were into that,” he added, trying to play it cool as he moved to pack his things into his bag. “I’m not working tonight, so I thought you might wanna give it a shot.” That was even more surprising, because he always happened to have a mysterious night shift going on. He never told you what exactly that was, aside from off-handedly mentioning something about motorcycles and Crime Alley every once in a while.

You were still letting it process. 

“...if you don’t want to-”

“No, no - that sounds great,” you interjected, already starting to smile. At the sight of it, he managed another grin himself, an evident hint of relief flashing across his face.

“Right. Yeah. Cool.” He cleared his throat and shot you another grin as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting your broke ass pay for it.”

“Jason!” you protested as he laughed and nudged your shoulder with his, making you join in despite yourself.

At least Othello had managed to lead you to one good thing.

#pandemonium scrawl #I kinda want to see a fic where he works at like a bookstore or something #will i write it? #lmao who knows #jason is an english major #I like that headcanon surprisingly #jason todd is in college #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc comics #dc #reader imagine #dc imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #fluff #college au #kinda cute i guess

[jaespresso]

make a wish - j.jh

pairing:: father’s business partner!jaehyun x reader

word count:: 1.7k

summary:: having a crush on your dad’s best friend and business partner and finally fucking him on your birthday, while you parents are attending a business meeting across the world.

warnings:: off-limits crush, implication of riding, getting fucked by your dad’s best friend and business partner, unprotected sex (please use protection!)

Mr Jung Jaehyun, the CEO of Jung Group Incorporation. A massive, multinational, family owned business that offered pretty much anything, from over-the-counter medication and electronics to flights and even had an upper hand in the telecommunications industry. It really did offer pretty much anything.

He was also a close friend of your father’s, one of his best business partners and your long time off-limits crush, for obvious reasons. He was twice your age and your dad’s work friend as you had described to your best friend.

You hadn’t expected to be in his company for your own eighteenth birthday but you were more than happy to be spending a week before Christmas in his villa. You were determined to make a move, at least show him how you felt but he seemed very busy with his work in his office upstairs so you returned to the living room where the fireplace was on, cuddling up onto the sofa with one of the books that piqued your interest from his bookcase. If Mr Jung had work to be getting on with, so did you.

The large windows of the villa looked over a beautiful snowy landscape. Mr Jung didn’t live here, he had an apartment in the city too but occasionally came to his villa to get a break from the fast city life.

You were half way through the book when the man himself came to join you with a cake in his hands. “Happy birthday, angel.” Mr Jung speaks, his dimples appearing when he smiles and your face lights up.

So, he did remember.

“Oh, Mr Jung, thank you.” You place your book down, before clasp your hands together as you stand up to admire the cake. It’s a cookies and cream themed, with a few Oreos placed on swirls of cream.

“Quick. Make a wish.”

You close your eyes, thinking of something you really wanted which was to be dicked down by your father’s best friend and then blow out the candles. Soon, the two of you are both seated on his couch, side by side and devouring the Oreo cake. Jaehyun finishes his slice first, placing the plate on the glass coffee table with the remaining cake.

“So, you’re eighteen now?” He asks, turning his figure to face you and resting his head on his hand. He’s still wearing his work shirt, but his navy blue blazer is hung on his chair back in his office and you’ll admit, Mr Jung looks awful good in navy blue.

“Yeah.” You hum, taking another spoonful of the cake before meeting his gaze. “Can’t believe that I’m an adult now.” You add with the intention to make it obvious that now you were just like him and no longer a child.

To your dismay, Jaehyun doesn’t seem to catch onto the actual meaning of your words and your brain goes into overtime to come up with another way to confess to him. “Mr Jung?”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” He asks with humour present in his tone.

“Have you ever liked anyone?”

“Well, o-of course.” Jaehyun watches you lick the cream off the spoon as you maintain eye contact with him and not so subtly grabs a cushion to cover his lap. It’s an innocent movement but it’s got all the blood rushing to his lower region.

“What’s wrong, Mr Jung?” You ask in a soft tone and Jaehyun turns his head, finding the snow covered scenery outside his window more interesting. His ears are also turning a deep shade of red and you know you’ve cornered him. Placing your empty plate next to his on the table before settling yourself on his knee and Jaehyun looks at you, speechless.

“Was it something I said?” You ask in a child-like tone, though your position might suggest otherwise. You pull back the white cushion from Jaehyun’s grip to be met by a wonderful sight and Jaehyun chuckles, rather embarrassed. “You’re a curious thing aren’t you?”

“Did I do that?” You ask in a naïve tone, knowing the answer already.

“Yes, baby- Oh, Y/N!” Mr Jung gasps when you apply light pressure to the tip of his cock, giving it a light squeeze and he grabs your wrist. “Don’t start something you can’t stop.”

His tone is daring and you take it as a challenge. “Or what?” You scoot closer to him on his lap, the feeling of his hard dick making your core excited and you just want Mr Jung to yank off your leggings, before shoving his dick inside you. As you bring your lips to his ears, to whisper something to him, despite you two being the only two in the whole house.

“Will you fuck me if I misbehave? Until I’m sobbing? What if that’s exactly what I want? Hmm? Will you give me what I want, Mr Jung?” Your own face seems to be heating up and you definitely don’t know where all this is coming from. You’re never been this bluntly honest with anyone, not even your best friend but it’s something most CEO’s had and if you were going to follow your father’s footsteps, you had to begin somewhere.

“Your mouth sure does run, doesn’t it, princess?” He asks, his confidence making a reappearance and his hand lets go of your wrist, allowing you to hold onto his broad shoulders. His hands go up to settle themselves onto your hips and you melt into his grip. “Might as well give you what you want. It’s your birthday after all.”

Jaehyun lifts you up, helping you yank off your leggings and unzipping his own navy blue trousers, pushing his boxers down before bringing out his large cock. He’s planned on fingering your first on the couch, then maybe take you up to his room and finish there but you are too impatient to wait. You drip your fingers down to your core and push your underwear aside, spreading your wet lips before sliding himself inside you, earning a low grunt from Mr Jung.

You moan aloud, sinking down onto the rest of his length and oh, god you realise just how big he is.

“Y/N, con-condom. I need to go-oh fuck, get a condom.” Jaehyun feels you clenching around him as you adjust to his length and you whine. You feel like you’re going to be split in half if Mr Jung moves so you experimentally and lightly bounce around to gain some sort of friction that’ll distract you from the pain.

“I’m, I’m on the pill, Mr Jung.” You inform him, your eyes squeezed shut and your body feels as if it is on fire. “Mr Jung, you’re so big.” You breathe out and Jaehyun pushes your back, letting your back hit the couch as he draws himself out of you.

“That’s because I need to prepare you tight cunt for my big cock.” He traces circles on your centre with his finger, rubbing your clit with his thumb and making you squirm.

Desperate for his touch, you push the oversized jumper you were wearing to reveal the blue lace bra you were wearing. It matched your underwear and you wore it for him, truth be told.

“This for me, princess?” He asks with curiosity, admiring the delicate fabric on your figure and he carefully removes your underwear. He doesn’t want to rip it, you look so pretty in it and he might get you to wear it again if you were willing to.

“Yes, daddy. Just for you.”

“Oh, baby.” He inserts two fingers inside your dripping cunt. “I think you deserve a good fucking.”

You whine, still desperate despite having two of his fingers inside you and decide to push the bra up, giving him a nice view of our bare breasts.

Mr Jung leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your nipples and you bury one of your hands in his thick, dark brown hair. He then let’s his tongue swirl around the bud before taking the thing into his mouth and sucking on it.

You gasped, loving the sensation and began grinding on his palm. “Oh-Oh, Mr Jung!”

He feels your tug at his hair encouragingly and makes himself busy sucking and kissing the other nipple. Mr Jung curls up his fingers to reach that spot and a familiar knot begins to form. “Right-right there, Mr Jung!” You nearly scream, thrusting yourself up into him with your heels buried in the couch and Mr Jung rubs the tips of his fingers over the sponge-y spot again, making your body tremble with pleasure.

“Here, Princess?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-” You swear would’ve nearly cried at Mr Jung’s teasing tone but the man registers you desperate cries and returns back to stretching you out with his fingers.

“Mr-Mr Jung, I-I...I’m close-so close.” You sob out as the sweet burning pleasure makes the knot in your stomach tighten and you begin to grind more harshly on his hand. The mixture of Mr Jung’s mouth around your nipple, his fingers deep inside you and his thumb toying with your clit are all the factors that push you over the edge. When you orgasm, you squeeze your eyes shut and your mouth is open in a ‘o’ shape as Mr Jung’s messy and harsh movements assist you in your orgasm.

You exhale deeply, only realising just then that your eyes have teared up and Mr Jung moves back, a string of saliva connecting his mouth with your nipple.

He lets out a deep sigh before chuckling at your dishevelled figure on the couch, underneath his towering body. “Shall we take round two in my bedroom?” He offers in a tempting tone and who could decline such a pleasant offer?

Mr Jung gave you your birthday wish and the following days fell into a similar pattern which consisted of you two fuck nearly on every available surface before your parents arrived for Christmas. Indeed, you couldn’t walk the next day because of the good fucking as Mr Jung had referred to, but gladly you were spending most days in his bed, in his company and being the gentleman he was, he looked after you.

Oh, what an unexpected and great way to celebrate your birthday.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #nct u #nct dilf #nct ff #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct jaehyun smut #nct au #nct scenarios #nct smut scenarios #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct u smut #nct make a wish #make a wish #nct jaehyun make a wish #nct angst #nct daddy #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic

[thefirstknife]

Help, I ran Garden of Salvation with some clan mates and i'm Experiencing Great Sadness about the Kentarch 3 again.

I haven't been following you since shadowkeep, and was wondering if you had some theories about what happened, because a lot is left unexplained, specifically about Lisbon-13's motivations. The story from Yardarm-4's perspective shows that something is influencing them before they accept power (stasis teaser?) from the darkness. Do you think they really had a choice? Do you think he was influenced in his decision to kill them? If so, why? As a test just for him? Presumably he's still out there somewhere, and I can't tell from the lorebooks whether Rekkana let him kill her first or not. I just feel so bad for them, they all loved each other. Yardarm probably took the power in the first place to help get them out safely. Do you think it'll ever get concluded? The whole lore series seems interestingly close to what happens with Shayura, just sort of in reverse.

Kentarch 3 fireteam and the whole story on the Garden of Salvation armour and the associated weapons and equipment is amazing and very interesting, I agree. I haven't talked about it before but it's a good thing to revisit every so often! I think there's still a lot we don't really understand, mostly due to not fully understanding the power of the Black Garden.

In short for the general audience, Kentarch 3 was a fireteam that consisted of Yardarm-4 (Titan), Rekkana (Warlock) and Lisbon-13 (Hunter). They went to explore the Black Garden at the behest of the Warlock order called the Cryptochrons which Rekkana was a part of. This order got exiled some time after Osiris for dabbling in prophecies. Cryptochrons were formed around a Oneiromantic Circle and led by a Sibyl (or multiple sibyls; or Sibyl was just a name of one member, it's unclear). Oneiromancy is the practice of interpreting dreams to predict the future and sibyls were ancient Greek female prophets and oracles.

I didn't think this would get long but it did so the rest under the cut:

The Cryptochron order continued operating after its exile and Rekkana received a prophecy from them that revolved around a fireteam learning about the Black Garden and retrieving from it a Vex relic of some sort. The relic is the exotic weapon Divinity and the lore tab on it details the prophecy they were chasing:

"And after any other Cryptochrons they learn of. But your path is more dangerous than most. The Circle has foreseen many fireteams following in your footsteps. You can find the knowledge the order seeks at the Tree."

"Can? Not will?" For the first time, Rekkana sounded concerned.

"The Circle has had limited success in piercing the veil that surrounds the Black Garden, so the order offers no certainties. They say that a group of Guardians will discover secrets about the origin of the Black Garden at the Tree. The Oneiromantic Circle foresees no reason why it will not be the Kentarch 3."

"Nor can I. But…?"

"There is another thread in the tapestry, entwined with this one. The Vex, or some fractal faction of them, worship or honor a… divinity there."

"The Black Heart? It was destroyed."

"Yes, but this is something different. An object. Something like a sacred relic. It is important to the Vex for reasons that we have not yet fathomed. The Circle has determined that it is dangerous—"

"A Vex weapon?"

"Perhaps," the Sybil sounded annoyed at the interruption. "Rekkana, the Circle concluded that it is a danger to you."

"To me? But then, why send me on this mission?"

"When the Circle dreamed of the object, you were beside it."

They agreed that, should they find this object, Lisbon should be the one to carry it. They did find it and he was indeed the one to carry it, as is shown later in another lore tab detailed below.

We know that Lisbon-13 killed the rest of his fireteam because they got corrupted by the Black Garden, something happened to their Ghosts (they all just dropped down and started losing their Light) and then turned on him. He was being hunted and he really had no choice. But he couldn't live with it. In Beyond Light, he's shown trying to kill his Ghost in order to stay permanently dead because he couldn't bear the burden of what he did to his fireteam, even though his actions were justified and he acted in self-defence.

But before he managed to do that, he was faced with his own doppleganger, just like the YW at the end of Shadowkeep. In the end, Lisbon didn't kill his Ghost because the doppleganger offered him power and Lisbon (presumably) chose to take it: his wish was simply to make himself forget about his fireteam (and Rekkana specifically, whom he loved). It's implied that he accepted and after that, we have no formal information what happened.

The outcome of what happened to Kentarch 3 is somewhat known, as detailed in this ship lore. The Vanguard knows Lisbon killed the other two, they're not sure when they lost their Ghosts and they have not found anyone's body, not even Lisbon's. But we know from the lore that came out after that Lisbon accepted the deal with his doppleganger and we have no idea what that entailed. Is he still in the Black Garden? Was he killed? Replaced? Just memory-wiped and sent back? Something else entirely? We'll explore at the end.

I'm pretty sure the voices they heard talking to them were also their own dopplegangers. And it's somewhat implied that they made some sort of a bargain and accepted "new powers" that came "from the wrong side." There's only one description of it:

Her fist glimmered and quaked with an unfamiliar power. She only had to release her grip, and that energy would rip through him, burning without fire.

That's Rekkana attacking Lisbon. It's never fully explained what it is, but it could very well be some sort of prototype Stasis in my opinion. Or some other Darkness power. Not sure why the Black Garden would give them this, which is why I think they simply harnessed the power of their dopplegangers. This is something that's been mentioned a few times in regards to Darkness: duplication. Same is present with the Taken as well (Taken psions duplicate). I mentioned the duplication theme being discussed in Clovis' journal before too.

Honestly, I can't make any definitive conclusion, but Kentarch 3 definitely found something horrifying in the Black Garden and fell to its influence. They also reference doing the puzzles to get Divinity, which they got and Lisbon used it to kill the other two.

Garden of Salvation raid ends with a Pyramid scale opening up and leading us down into the area with the Darkness statue. I think this could've easily been some sort of a lead into the future of Destiny and the powers of Darkness. Kentarch 3 may have accidentally received this power early on or were perhaps some sort of a test the Darkness did on Guardians before offering them Stasis for real.

It's an interesting story and yep, it does mirror Shayura's fireteam and how the story is told! Each member of the fireteam tells the same story from their own POV on armour for that class. I'll link all of them in order, roughly how I think it's best to read each POV:

Rekkana: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Yardarm-4: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Lisbon-13: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

I like how the armour follows the same name pattern: Righteousness, Exaltation, Transcendence, Ascendancy and Temptation.

Associated Garden of Salvation weapons also have some tidbits of lore that might help, namely:

Ancient Gospel Hand Cannon:

"These forces have existed forever, but only one of them speaks to us." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Sacred Provenance Pulse Rifle:

"These gifts were not made for us, but we were meant to have them." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Zealot's Reward Fusion Rifle:

"Why not use these gifts we've been given?" —Yardarm-4, Titan of the Kentarch 3

I would really like to learn more about them, and specifically Lisbon because he might be able to actually tell us what happened. He or his Ghost, Piri, who managed to survive last we've seen her. I think the Ghost might be able to give the most accurate version of events. It's interesting that Lisbon was very much against whatever power they received and that was the reason he abandoned his fireteam, which made the other two consider him a traitor to their friendship.

Very intriguing lore story that could possibly be mentioned again in some form. Also as a brighter note, yes, Yardarm literally flew into the Black Garden with an entire ship and crash landed inside. On a less brighter note, we've never seen the remains of a ship in there (to be fair, Black Garden is huge) and it's somewhat implied that they entered through the Vex Gate on Mars which puts the timeline of when they got there into question. The Vex Gate on Mars that led into the Black Garden was destroyed in the Red War. The new gate showed up on the Moon in Shadowkeep (and you can't fly a ship into it because it's in a cave).

An additional note which answers certain things when it comes to Lisbon's fate that I hinted at before: in order to acquire the quest for Divinity, you have to go to the Moon to the Vex Gate for the first time. The gate will open up and a Vex mind will come out. This giant Vex minotaur is called Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. Upon killing this minotaur, you receive "Divine Fragmentation" quest. Details of the quest here. You pick up a Vex core that has strange readings coming from it and you have to decipher it by running it through various Vex technology. Once fully completed, you have to go into Garden of Salvation, do the Divinity puzzles and the weapon will drop from the extra chest at the end.

Why am I mentioning this? Well. Zeteon, Redemptive Mind drops a core that contains information about how to get Divinity. Lisbon was the member of the fireteam that held Divinity and used it to kill his fireteam. There's a quote from Lisbon on the weapon called Accrued Redemption:

"I should never have let it come to this. Now each arrow is a penance." —Lisbon-13, Hunter of the Kentarch 3

Divinity's perks are called Judgement and Penance.

Basically, I believe that whatever deal Lisbon accepted that made him forget his fireteam, free him from the suffering and redeem him ended with him being converted into Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. It's the reason why this Vex in particular had the pieces needed to construct Divinity again. Lisbon was the last person who had it. Becoming the bearer of parts needed for Divinity was both his Judgement and his Penance.

Final note because I love ancient languages being used for the names of things in Destiny: "Zeteon" most likely comes from Greek "zeteo" which means:

to seek, search after, look for

to inquire into, examine, consider

to strive for, desire, wish

Probably tied to Lisbon's search and desire for redemption for what he's done. I think that wraps up his fate quite nicely, although tragically.

#destiny 2 #kentarch 3 #lisbon-13 #rekkana #yardarm-4 #garden of salvation raid #black garden #darkness #vex #ask #long post #anon if you've been wondering what's taking so long for your question to be answered or if i've received the question #this essay is the reason shfksjfhskjfhks