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#someone come supervise me
my-sleepy-head · 9 months
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I am convinced I full ass confused the survivors when I was playing earlier because I was trying to hit one of them and the Rebecca got in the way and she’d already been hooked twice (if I remember right) and I didn’t want to kill her so I just froze when I hit her. I just froze and looked up an Yun-jin(who I’d been trying to hit) and stepped back to let Kate and Feng heal Rebecca.
Feng then tried to flashlight me, it didn’t work because of lightborn, so she gave her flashlight to Rebecca who also tried to flashlight me(which still didn’t work). I was basically tamed by that point, I just followed Yun-jin around while she lead me around the map crouching and nodding at me, letting her stun me so she could get points. She let me hook her as soon as everyone left and I just stood in the corner facing away as soon as she was on hook.
(I had another survivor do the same thing when I decided to play friendly on purpose today. She leaped into the basement after making me chase her around shack during the collapse. I didn’t feel like watching this one die either but was grateful for the points so I faced the wall then too.)
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fabulouslygaybean · 1 year
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apparently someone in my fucking gsa is a racist cunt who keeps creeping on my little sister. this is the final straw i think
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robinsnest2111 · 2 years
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scanning more old art and boy....
some of the stuff I drew? extremely cringe bordering on absolutely tasteless and socially unacceptable 😬
glad to see I had at least a little bit of positive character development in the past 12 ish years...
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fandomsandshipping1 · 2 years
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Brooklyn: So what’s for dinner? Indiana, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.
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jen-with-a-pen · 1 month
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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦
summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.
parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader
word count: 6.5K
warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum
a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.
If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!
gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥
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𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚
Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 
Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 
You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.
When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.
Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.
After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.
You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 
With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  
Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 
Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”
The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 
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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 
“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 
“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.
You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.
Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 
“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.
It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 
The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 
“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.
“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 
Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 
“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.
You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  
“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.
Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.
“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.
You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”
“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 
Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 
You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 
You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 
Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.
The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.
“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 
“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”
White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.
He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.
“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.
His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.
You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 
With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.
“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 
“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 
“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”
He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 
“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.
“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.
“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”
He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.
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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 
There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 
Your face burned.
Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 
You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 
He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.
♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.
You swallowed a groan. 
“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 
“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”
“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”
“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”
Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 
“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 
You wanted to take his finger and break it.  
You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.
You doubted it was convincing.
“Fine.” 
He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 
When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.
“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”
“When the hell did you–”
“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.
“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 
He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.
The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 
“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.
Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.
It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 
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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”
“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 
Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–
“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 
“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 
“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.
“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 
“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.
You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”
His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 
You swallowed. “You heard me.”
One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 
Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 
“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.
“Look at me!” 
“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 
With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.
You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.
“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 
His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”
You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 
“Is that all, Sergeant?” 
His Adam's apple bobbed.
“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.
“You heard me.” 
The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 
“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.
“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”
Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.
“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 
And you let him.
“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.
“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 
Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 
He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 
“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
Your heart stopped.
“You’re telling me.”
Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 
Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 
Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.
Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 
He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 
You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”
“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.
“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 
“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.
“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”
He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”
“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”
“Number fuckin’ one.”
The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 
Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.
“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.
He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 
“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 
SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”
SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”
SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 
Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 
“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”
You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 
“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 
“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 
He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 
“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 
“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”
“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.
For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 
“Thanks.”
He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”
You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”
“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.
“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”
“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.
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"I always thought legalizing euthanasia was a no-brainer. 
It always seemed to me like an individual choice people ought to have, akin to legalizing abortion or same-sex marriage. 
If someone is in such pain that they decide to end their life, I thought, who are we as a society to tell them they can’t? 
There’s also a harm reduction component. If someone is dead set on ending their lives, shouldn’t we give them a relatively safe, effective option under medical supervision? It would be cruel not to. 
This was the rationale behind the 2015 Supreme Court of Canada decision in Carter v. Canada, which determined prohibition of medical assistance in dying (MAiD) was unconstitutional. 
But the legalization of MAiD has brought to the fore some disturbing moral calculations, particularly with its expansion in 2019 to include individuals whose deaths aren’t “reasonably foreseeable,” which opened the floodgates for people with disabilities to apply to die rather than survive on meagre benefits. 
I’ve come to realize euthanasia in Canada has become the ultimate neoliberal policy — we’ll starve you of the funding you need to live a dignified life, demand you pay back pandemic aid you applied for in good faith, and if you don’t like it, well, why don’t you just kill yourself? 
The problem with my previous perspective was it held individual choices as sacrosanct. But people don’t make individual decisions in a vacuum. They’re the product of social circumstances, ones often out of their control.
Tim Stainton, director of the Canadian Institute for Inclusion and Citizenship at the University of British Columbia, told the Associated Press that Canada’s MAiD policy is “probably the biggest existential threat to disabled people since the Nazis’ program in Germany in the 1930s.”
This sounds hyperbolic, but there are endless examples of people with disabilities who were offered euthanasia rather than live a life of pain and exclusion. And with the impending expansion of MAiD to include people with mental illnesses, the problem is only going to get worse."
Full article
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
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southislandwren · 1 year
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i should file workers comp (round 3 babey) for my knees they are a DISASTER right now. no i've never gone to the doctor for my knees previously why do u ask. definitely no fraud going on here. give me compensation pwease
#to set up the silos for CIP and receiving product you have to kneel a lot#which wouldnt be a problem unless you have knees like mine.#tibial tuberosities on both knees and chronic bursitis and a sprained ligament that didn't heal correctly#so basically anything happens and my knees give me insane problems. good times#im like the authority on workers comp issues to all my friends since i've been through it twice and theyre all normal so they dont get hurt#i mentioned today in lab bc we were talking about burns. that i got a 2nd degree burn at work and just. didnt tell anyone about it#and my friend was like hope... oh my god.....#and the teacher was like you have to tell them so they can file an incident report. and i was like yes i am very familiar with those#also my toxic trait is i sit around at home doing nothing then 9pm hits and all i want to do is play piano :(#i have got to become nocturnal. when i graduate im getting myself a 3rd shift QA supervisory role at [redacted]#id take 2nd shift too but they don't really need someone to supervise on 2nd shift#i miss them so much :( maybe i could split my summer in half and do a mini internship somewhere else then go home#aargh my knees hurt. i think tonight will be very hard to sleep#im starting to pinpoint whats keeping me from falling alseep and its mostly missing sam with every ounce of my being#also my pillows are giving me a lot of trouble so i wake up with back pain and neck pain and headaches and everything sucks#i really need the weekend to come im so exhausted.#tomorrows easy though. work and class and prepping samples then HOME#diary post
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zzprompto · 6 months
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☆ our teachers are gay?!
gojo satoru x male reader [he / him]
sypnosis: you and gojo are both teachers at tokyo jujutsu high. your students start catching up on little things about the two of you, coming to a conclusion that their teachers are gay, but is that the truth? (meant to be viewed as romantic, hints at an established relationship.)
the lowercase is intentional !
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satoru and [name] had been teaching at tokyo jujutsu high for a few years now. the two have made memories, had laughs and even arguments during the time. the students loved their teachers, always finding them amusing.
this years first years were a first, though.
"he's definitely gay!" a student yells. "no, he's not! he definitely has a wife and two kids!" another student yells. the person that they were talking about? [name]. itadori and nobara were arguing about whether or not they thought their teacher was gay for their other teacher or not, whilst megumi just sat there listening to their bickering. nobara thought [name] was gay, whereas itadori thought he wasn't.
megumi just sat there, listening to his friends arguing. it was constant, but he knew it was just banter after all. megumi had a small smirk on his face as he listened.
megumi knew the truth, well, half of the truth. he knew of gojo's feelings towards [name], but he never knew of [name]'s feelings towards gojo. megumi and gojo were practically father and son, not that megumi would admit that, so he could tell how gojo felt. megumi was the only reserved first year, so he learnt to pick up on people's emotions and feelings quickly, which included gojo's.
it was clear, by megumi's perception of the world, that gojo was definitely into [name]. gojo always tried to, and not so subtly in fact, flirt with [name]. yet, it always ended up in [name] saying a bunch of curses with a red face. maybe [name] did like gojo back? but, how was megumi going to know? he's not [name] and maybe the red face megumi always saw was just his teacher embarrassed, not flustered.
megumi also noticed how close the two teachers were. there were always together eating lunch or talking or supervising training sessions where they also talked more. perhaps it was because they could only talk to eachother, they were the only teachers there excluding the principal. or.. maybe it was something else? it did seem like there was more of a rivalry going on between the two men in megumi's eyes, but who knew. only gojo and [name] did.
a certain someone clears their throat after hearing all the bickering down the corridor. "and what are you three talking about?" the voice asks, and it just so happens to be gojo. itadori and nobara are in big trouble now.
itadori looks at gojo in horror, already accepting that he's been caught. nobara just looks at gojo with a small, innocent smile, hoping itadori won't mess up and say something wrong.
"uhm.. we were just talking about [name]'s love life-" itadori starts before nobara jabs him in the stomach to get him to shut up. "we were discussing what places we can visit in tokyo during our days off!" nobara cut in. gojo had a smirk plastered on his face. it was so obvious that he knew the truth about what they were talking about.
megumi sighed and he rolled his eyes at his two friends. "you idiots.. look at his face. he knows what you two were talking about." megumi muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how stupid his friends were. "plus.. his six eyes probably sensed you guys were talking about [name] anyway." megumi decides to add his own snarky comment.
"ah, so my suspicions were true." gojo chuckled. "if you really want to find out more about [name], why don't you ask him yourselves? although, he'd probably want to punch me if you told him i suggested the idea.." gojo spoke his thoughts aloud.
as if on queue, [name] steps into the room with a confused look on his face. "what are you all standing around here for? i thought training was meant to start ten minutes ago.." he sighed, a hand resting on his hip. the three first years all look at eachother before rushing out of the room to go to the field.
[name] just shook his head as he watched his students leave. "what were you doing in here with them, satoru? because it definitely wasn't reminding them that training was about to start." [name] said, looking at gojo as he spoke. gojo just shrugged at [name]'s question, starting to follow the first years out to the field.
the first years quickly got to training. they were practicing their cursed technique skills and hand to hand combat whilst [name] and gojo kept a close eye. the two teachers were standing close together, smiling as they occasionally made small talk.
"so, what about that date i was talking about earlier?" gojo pipes up, smiling at [name]. [name] just scoffed in response, punching gojo in the shoulder. "don't ask me about dates whilst we're infront of our students, satoru." [name] chuckled and gojo joined in.
gojo then snaked an arm around [name]'s waist, pulling him in closer and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "okay, okay. but we're still going on that date after work, right?" gojo asks. "you're not helping yourself!" [name] replies, pushing gojo away with a huge smile on his face.
of course, the three first years saw this play out. when gojo and [name] thought they were being so subtle, they were caught in the act. the three first years stopped what they were doing and stared at their teachers in shock.
gojo and [name] just watched their students with smiles on their faces. gojo still had his arm wrapped around [name]'s waist as he pulled his lover in for a kiss, not caring about their students. they had already been caught, so what was the harm in sharing a kiss in the end?
"see! i told you he's gay! you owe me big time, itadori!" nobara yells out, starting to chase itadori around the field.
☆ author's note: ill try get requests done soon, sorry if you're waiting on one. do request some more, i have barely any ideas of my own.
☆ request ▪︎ masterlist
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popamolly · 3 days
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‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR
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summary. You confess to Alastor, rapidly turning the pages of your unpredictable future with him as you two share a night of passion, unknowingly that someone lurks in the shadows watching you.
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE
warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, Alastor gets a bit possessive and primal idk, breeding kink, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, rough!dom!alastor, a love making if you squint
author’s note. i took a short break to focus on my exams but i am back and will be responding to requests and my messages as soon as possible, thank you all for being patient! I plan on having only ten chapters so we are half way there! If you want to check this story out on wattpad (where you can find the chapters a bit more easily) you can find me @ SCREAMPIED. as always, thank you for the love and support. enjoy sinners.
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You had first thought to find Alastor's warehouse by memory but it was a fruitless attempt as the woods that surrounded his home were so dense that Mr.Ray opted against it, seeing as you two would get lost without a proper guide. You wanted to venture off into the woods but with Ray supervising you, you knew you had to take your search elsewhere. You and Mr. Ray had found yourselves on to the bustling streets of New Orleans, specifically targeting the popular French Quarter. The vibrant energy of the city surrounded you, the sounds of jazz music and lively conversations filling the air as you navigated through the crowd.
Your first stop was the renowned jazz club where Alastor was known to frequent and had taken you to only a few nights ago. The sultry melodies spilled out onto the street, drawing in a diverse crowd of music enthusiasts and night owls. The inviting glow of the club's entrance welcomed you back, stirring a mix of heartache and determination within you.
As you stepped inside, the familiar ambiance washed over you—the smooth jazz tunes, the dimly lit stage, and the intimate setting that had once felt so enchanting. The club was alive with activity, patrons enjoying the music, sipping on cocktails, and engaging in lively conversations.
You approached the bartender, a seasoned individual who seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the club's regulars. With a friendly smile, you inquired about Alastor, describing him as the charming gentleman with a penchant for jazz and a captivating presence.
The bartender's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you're talking about Al," he said with a nod. "He hasn't been around for a while, but he usually shows up later in the evening, closer to midnight."
Your heart raced with anticipation as you thanked the bartender and found a seat at the bar, eagerly awaiting Alastor's arrival. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with anticipation and a hint of apprehension.
As midnight approached, the jazz club seemed to come alive in a different way, the music taking on a more soulful tone, the atmosphere tinged with a sense of mystery and possibility. You glanced around, searching for any sign of Alastor's distinctive presence, hoping that this time, your search would lead to the answers you sought.
As the minutes stretched into midnight, Mr. Ray settled into the seat beside you at the jazz club. His concerned expression didn't go unnoticed as he glanced around the lively venue, the music and laughter swirling around you.
"Miss, I have to say, this whole venture feels like a bad idea," Mr. Ray began, his tone cautious yet firm. "Chasing after someone who seems intent on staying elusive, especially someone like Alastor, might not lead to the answers you're looking for."
"And what do you know about Alastor?" You turned to Mr. Ray then, arching an eyebrow, challenging his perspective.
The driver shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "Not much, except for his reputation. Street talk suggests he's someone best left alone."
In that moment, you realized there was more to Alastor than met the eye. The man you'd grown fond of had a life beyond the radio show, shrouded in mystery. It prompted questions about how well you truly knew him; the answer, upon reflection, was not much, given the short time you'd known each other.
"Is he some sort of dangerous person? A kingpin? A fugitive?" You tapped your fingers on the bar counter, probing for answers.
"Not precisely, Miss. It's more of an unsettling aura he carries. People steer clear, citing his eyes as the giveaway—he's said to lack a soul," Mr. Ray explained, flicking ash from his cigarette. "That's why he resides in the woods, away from prying eyes."
"These are just rumors," you defended, feeling protective of Alastor. "He's not what they say."
"True, but rumors often hold grains of truth," Mr. Ray countered.
You met his gaze, a mix of determination and uncertainty in your eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Ray," you replied firmly. "But I need answers. I need to find Alastor and talk to him, no matter the risks."
Mr. Ray sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "I can't stop you from doing what you feel is right, Miss," he conceded. "But please, be cautious. Sometimes, chasing after the thing we want most can just lead to more heartache."
His words struck a chord, a fleeting doubt creeping into your mind. However, the determination to seek answers and clarity outweighed the uncertainty. With a nod of understanding to Mr. Ray, you turned your focus back to the club, waiting anxiously for any sign of Alastor's arrival, knowing that this encounter would shape the path ahead, for better or for worse.
Your eyes widened as you noticed that familiar sight of brown hair and charming smile. Alastor entered the club with a woman on his arm, sparking a confused twinge of jealousy to course through you, but you quickly composed yourself despite your heart racing so much you were sure it was going to pop out of your chest. Sensing the moment of truth approaching, you turned to Mr. Ray beside you.
"You can go home now, Mr. Ray," you said firmly, your gaze fixed on Alastor's figure in the distance. "And do tell my mother that I will be home late."
Mr. Ray's expression tightened with concern. "Miss, it's half past midnight. I can't leave you alone like this," he protested, his protective instincts kicking in.
However, you remained resolute. "I am a grown woman," you said, your eyes never leaving Alastor as he conversed with the woman beside him. "I can manage fine without a chaperone. Now go."
Reluctantly, Mr. Ray nodded, understanding the determination in your voice. He stood up from his seat, casting one last worried glance in your direction before making his way out of the club. The sense of independence filled you as you watched him leave.
As Alastor's eyes met yours across the crowded jazz club, a silent understanding passed between you. With a subtle nod, he excused himself from the woman on his arm, gracefully making his way through the lively crowd toward you.
His approach was deliberate, his gaze unwavering as he closed the distance between you. With a teasing smile, Alastor glided his finger across your cheek in a familiar gesture, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Smile, my dear," he remarked in his charismatic tone, "you are never fully dressed without a smile."
Your response betrayed the jealously you felt as a shiver goes down your spine at just a mere touch from him, you let his name fall from your lips like a soft spell. "Alastor," you said, your voice a mix of love and curiosity, "I have been looking for you."
The playful banter momentarily faded, replaced by a tense anticipation as you awaited his response. The air between you crackled with unspoken questions and emotions, the time for games and pleasantries giving way to the pressing need for answers and clarity.
"Oh? Well you have found me. How ever can I be assistance?" He did a quick bowls he grabbed ahold of your hand, placing a gentle lingering kiss along your knuckles.
"Who was that woman you're with?" The question spilled form your mouth before you could think, glancing over at the short plump woman that was dancing her heart away with another gentleman on the dance floor with a twinge of distaste, "A friend?"
Alastor could only smile at your noticeable jealousy, "A friend." He confirmed, "That is the lively mimzy, she cornered me as I made my way in here and assisted that I escort her in. As you can she, she already has forgotten my presence."
You nod in understanding, breath catching in your throat as Alastor stands closer to you, his face only inches from yours as he moves his hand to your waist, the stool you sat on only making it all the more easier for him to tower over you.
"Now, anymore questions? Or can I kiss you, my dear?" Alastor made a show of teasing you in such a public place, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he leaned in for a kiss but your hand over his mouth stopped him. As much as you wanted to give in to his enticing allure you knew you shouldn’t, not when you had no idea where exactly you stood in his life. You wanted something more, more than spontaneous rendezvous.
"I have a few.." You admit, "But let's go somewhere private, away from everyone else.”
“Of course,” Alastor straightened his tie, offering you his arm with a smile, "There is a lovely park not too far from here, the fireflies there are truly a sight to see. Shall we?"
You take his arm with a small nervous smile, walking out of the club that had just began to truly get lively once again. The both of you walked down the bustling street of the French Court, unbeknownst to you of a car headlights turning on across the street to slowly follow you.
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As you both arrived at the nearby park, the scene unfolded like a romantic painting. Other couples strolled along the riverbank, their laughter and silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of fireflies. You couldn't help but gaze at the night sky in awe, feeling as though you were part of something truly enchanting. The stars brightened the night sky like diamonds and you couldn't help by smile, feeling as though this counted as your second date with Alastor. It was simply, like the first one, and you found yourself with a bit of longing for the future- one that was filled with more moments like these with the man you've come to love.
Walking quietly beside Alastor, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over you, making you feel small beside him. Finding a secluded bench, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze creating a serene atmosphere.
Sitting together on the bench, you felt the weight of unspoken words hovering on the tip of her tongue, struggling to gather the courage to voice them. Her head battled with her heart, and the burning question finally spilled out, "Alastor, what are we?"
He chuckled lightly, turning to look at you, but you kept her eyes fixed forward, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Whatever do you mean, my dear?" he replied with amusement.
"You know exactly what I mean,"you said, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, your gaze drifting up to the sky once more. "You know I'm a Duvalier, with all the expectations that come with it. I'm expected to be married by the end of the season. It's an obligation, but it's also something I want. I want the whole happy ending – a husband, children eventually, that perfect life."
Your words stumbled out in a jumble as you struggled to convey her feelings to Alastor, or anyone for that matter. "I know it sounds silly, but I love you, or I know I could. What I'm trying to say is, I want to be with you and have that perfect life with you, but I need to know if you feel the same way. I don't want to be just a distraction or someone you discard when you're bored."
The weight of the silence that followed your confession settled heavily on your heart. You braced yourself for Alastor's response, half expecting the worst as your mother's warnings echoed in your mind. If only you could glimpse into Alastor's thoughts and see the turmoil brewing within him. For a fleeting moment, his smile wavered, unnoticed by you. Inside him, emotions raged like a relentless storm threatening to engulf him. You had been nothing more than a fleeting diversion, a domestic facade slowly growing on him, but love? The very concept seemed laughable to him, having forgotten its true meaning since his mother's passing.
The prospect of love was new territory for Alastor, dangerous waters he hesitated to navigate blindly. Yet, a part of him yearned for it. He gazed into your earnest eyes, seeing a hopeless romantic who he had once thought he could manipulate then kill with his charm. Now, he realized you were entirely his, and nothing he could ever do would deter your affection. He entertained the notion that perhaps you were his salvation, someone who had peered into his soul like no one else ever had.
Despite his dark secrets and looming shadows, you looked past it all and embraced him for who he was. Alastor, in his twisted mind, welcomed this newfound sensation of love but remained cautious, acknowledging his reluctance towards commitment. Yet, if you were willing to accept him with all his flaws, he was willing to try.
"Do you love me enough to die for me?" Alastor's gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You couldn't tear your eyes away, captivated by his aura and the shiver of pleasure his intensity sent down your spine.
"Yes," you answered breathlessly, craving his touch.
"That was too easy," Alastor dismissed your response with boredom, having seen the life fade from eyes so easily before. Living alongside him, however, would be a far greater challenge than dying for him. "Would you live for me?"
"Every day," you replied, your hands clinging to his wrist as he drew you closer, igniting a fiery desire between your legs that couldn't be quenched without him.
"Then you are mine dear, forever. In this life and the next, in heaven and in hell." Alastor's words hung in the air, a testament to the intensity of your emotions now reciprocated. Without another word, Alastor closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It was a collision of desire and longing, a melding of two souls entwined in a tumultuous dance of love and darkness.
His kiss was both tender and possessive, a silent declaration of his complex feelings for you. You melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his touch sear through your entire being. It was as if every doubt, every fear was erased in that moment of connection, replaced by a burning need for each other.
Time seemed to stand still as you both lost yourseleves in each other, your hearts beating as one in the midst of chaos. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the raw passion and undeniable bond that drew you together.
When he finally broke the kiss, your breaths mingling in the shared space between them, Alastor's eyes held a mixture of longing and uncertainty. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let you see a side of him he had long kept hidden. It was a leap of faith, a gamble on love that both thrilled and terrified him.
As you looked into his eyes, feeling the echo of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you knew that in that moment, all that mattered was the fierce connection that blossomed from a single dance on a patio a few nights ago, a flame that burned brighter in the midst of darkness.
"Take me home?" Your grip on Alastor never faltered as you felt this undeniable need to be with him, to give yourself to him yet again and explore that now familiar height of pleasure you tasted before.
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The warm glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a soft, flickering light, casting dancing shadows across the walls and floor. Alastor had you on the floor, legs over his shoulders with his arms hooked under your knees to fold you into a deep mating press. You felt his cock go inside you impossibly deeper, his swollen tip bruising your cervix as he pounded into you relentlessly. The crackling of the fire added a soothing rhythm to the charged atmosphere, heightening the senses as you explored each other's bodies with fervent caresses.
Alastor let out a primal groan that had goosebumps appearing all over you skin, his rough thrusts sending electric tingles throughout your body. Those deep brown eyes that poured into yours ignited a fire within you, a need that begged to be satisfied. His lips found their way to your neck, planting soft kisses along the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with a soft moan slipping past your lips.
You ran your fingers through his hair and down his back, fingernails dragging across his skin to leave marks, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The desire between you grew with each passing moment, fueled by the undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air.
"Say it again," Alastor demanded, sweat beading down his face as he brought his head up to look into your eyes once again, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip with a blissful smile.
"I love you," You tossed your head back in pleasure, your throat nearly becoming raw from being so loud, your voice echoing throughout the walls of the warehouse, "I love you, A-Alastor..I'm so close, please."
"Good girls beg to cum, my dear." Your lover says, his voice a sweet taunt in your ear as he continues to fuck you into the floor, his balls slapping against you, "So beg."
"Alastor, please-please can I cum?" You begged, your mind going dumb with nothing but the thought of his cock inside you, filling you to the brim and stretching you impossibly wide that it stung, "It feels so good, Alastor, please-! I-!"
"No." His refusal had tears brimming the corner of your eyes, that need within the pit of your stomach only growing, aching to be released as you tried your best to deny it and not succumb to that feeling in the desperate attempt to submit to Alastor.
“Please—? Ah! Al—!”
Alastor could only laugh at your pitiful attempt to speak over the lewd sound of your tight pussy sucking him in greedily. If he couldn’t torture you to death he would surely torture you in other ways. Though the thought of your blood spilling from your pretty throat and soaking his fingers enticed him, he realized that he enjoyed inflicting the sexual torture a tad bit more. There was something about the look on your tear streaked face, mascara running and lipstick smudged, painting you as the perfect sinful masterpiece that he created. The way you were going completely dumb on his cock, getting lost in the feeling of only him as your mind turned to absolute mush from the overwhelming pleasure. You were shaking, writhing beneath him from the overstimulation and yet you still looked up at him with oh so innocent eyes— sweet pure innocence that he wanted to corrupt.
You were young and inexperienced in the matters of the heart, sex— hell, the world. It was going to take someone who was much older, much more experience to show you just how amazing adulthood could be, how pleasure can be felt from the top of your head to the top of your toes and lucky for you, you had a partner that knew the female anatomy all too well. Alastor angled his hips just right, hitting the sweet spot within you relentlessly that had you crying out, eyes rolling back, and toes curling.
“Look at me,” Alastor took ahold of your chin, forcing you to stay present and not get lost in the wonderland of complete euphoria, “That’s it darling, keep looking into my eyes and maybe I’ll reward you, hm?”
“Alastor…” Your voice was becoming a bit hoarse now, voice cracking from the tears you were shedding but a small smile graced your lips despite it all because you knew that this was something you wanted to experience for the rest of your days. To be beneath him, submitting your entire being to the man you love so you wouldn’t have to worry, or some much as think about the outside world because in this moment it was just you two.
“Fuck,” He cursed, feeling himself grow closer to his own release but he ignored it, focusing on you and how your lips were parted, begging Alastor with a soft voice to let you cum, “Let me hear that pretty voice, mon chère.”
"Please, please, please," you quietly begged, feeling another orgasm coming quicker than the last. Alastor watched you intently before he sat up to lick his thumb, bringing it down to rub circles onto your swollen clit. Your hips nearly bucked away from how sensitive you felt, "Alastor!"
"Does that feel good?" Alastor quieted you with a kiss before moving away to take your bottom lip in between his teeth, making you whimper as you felt him bite down, the irony taste of blood filling your mouth, "Be a doll and cum for me."
"Fuck!" You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around his cock just as you came undone.
Alastor quickly followed suit, burying himself inside you to the hilt before painting your walls white. You winced slightly from the feeling of being stuffed so full, your hole practically fluttering around nothing once he pulled out of you. It was strange, feeling his seed drip out of you, it was warm. You yelped just as Alastor brought your sore legs up to your chest again, his fingers making quick work of your freshly fucked out hole as he finger fucked his dripping cum back into you. The sudden primal urge to not let a single drop go to waste taking over Alastor, his eyes nearly black with lust once he takes in the sight of your swollen pussy with a grin that made you shiver.
“I’m s-sore..” Your body still shook from the intense orgasm you just had, “wait—”
“Shh,” Alastor hushed you, the wet sounds coming from your pussy seemingly louder now, “Relax, my dear.”
You whimpered, body tensing as you watched Alastor’s long slender fingers slide in and out of you with ease thanks to the natural lubricant of your arousal and his cum combined. Alastor finger fucked his cum back into you with a wide grin, only stopping when he was satisfied with the sight of your pretty pussy taking all of his cum again
Alastor traced delicate patterns along your inner thigh, his gaze locked on yours as he savored the rise and fall of your chest. "Such a beautiful sight," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I don't take words lightly, especially when they come from someone as captivating as you. Your mind, your body," he trailed kisses up your body, savoring each love mark along your neck, "and your soul—all are mine now."
A whispered affirmation escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored the intensity in Alastor's eyes. As your lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a realm of shared desire and longing. His mouth silenced your moans as he deepened the kiss, each touch igniting a fire that consumed you both.
Exhausted yet content, you nestled into Alastor's embrace as he spooned you, his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon. The soft glow of the fireplace cast shadows on the walls, creating a tranquil ambiance that matched the peace settling over your spent bodies. Goosebumps danced across your skin as his hand traced gentle paths down your arm, pulling you closer to him.
In that moment, with your head resting against his chest and his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear, you drifted into a peaceful slumber. Alastor's whispered words—"Rest, my darling. We'll leave in the morning"—were the last echoes you heard before sleep claimed you, cocooning you in a world where love and warmth were the only realities.
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As Alastor lay beside you, the flickering flames of the fireplace began to dim, casting fleeting shadows across the room. Sensing the need for more wood to keep the fire alive, Alastor gently slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. Unbeknownst to him, Mr. Ray had been lurking outside the window, his curiosity and fulfilling need to protect you getting the better of him as he watched Alastor's movements.
Silently slipping out into the cold night, Alastor made his way to the woodpile, his breath forming misty clouds in the chilled air. With practiced ease, he picked up the axe, lean muscles flexing as he did so, ready to chop the logs needed to fuel the dying fire. Little did he know that Mr. Ray, hidden in the shadows, had followed him, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. Mr.Ray had been there long enough to witness the intimate moment you and Alastor shared, drawing his own conclusions about you and what exactly you meant to Alastor. Overall, he saw nothing but a couple being scandalous, your intimacy blanketed by the secrets of the night but there was just something off about Alastor that Mr.Ray couldn't shake and he wanted to find out what.
As Alastor swung the axe, the sound of wood splitting echoed in the quiet night. But it was a small twig under Mr. Ray's foot that betrayed his presence. Alastor's senses instantly sharpened, his instincts alert to the intruder in his domain. With a swift movement, he turned, the axe held firmly in his grasp, a murderous glint flickering in his eyes as he scanned the darkness with a playful grin. The killer had a hunch, a feeling, that something felt off when he brought you back to his place. Of course he thought it was his imagination or the voices in his head playing tricks on him but now he was certain that there was someone lurking in the shadows watching him.
As the twig snapped under Mr. Ray's foot, his heart raced with the realization that he had been discovered. Panic surged through him as he tried to retreat into the darkness, hoping to hide from Alastor's piercing gaze. However, before he could take more than a few steps, he heard the sound of footsteps closing in behind him.
Alastor, quick to react, had already sensed Mr. Ray's attempt to flee. Like a fox hunting a hare, he closed the distance between them in mere moments, his presence looming over Mr. Ray like a menacing shadow. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around them, adding to the suspense of the moment.
Mr. Ray's breath caught in his throat as he felt Alastor's presence right behind him, the cold steel of the axe chillingly close to his back. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized the danger he was in, trapped between the darkness of the night and the looming threat of Alastor.
Alastor's voice sliced through the tense silence, low and threatening. "Trying to sneak away, are we?" His words dripped with a dangerous edge, sending a chill down Mr. Ray's spine.
There was two choices Alastor had to make, he could kill him now or torture him later. Though you were here so that limited him to only one option, which was to kill him now. The murderer didn't mind that because as much as he wanted to drill some information out of him on why he was here, the sudden realization that he had been watching the both of you made a bubbling anger boil within him. He had watched you, in all your naked glory no doubt, and that thought alone made the rage spill over.
In that heart-stopping moment, Alastor raised the axe, the moonlight glinting off its sharp blade as it hovered ominously in the air. Mr. Ray's instincts screamed at him to run, but fear rooted him to the ground, unable to move.
The scene was frozen in time, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. With a swift and calculated movement, Alastor brought the axe down, the air splitting with the sound of its descent. That satisfying crunch of a skull crushing made Alastor smile, blood splattering all over his face and bare chest as he brought the axe down again, and again. His eyes, usually calm and collected, now glinted with a manic light as his true, psychotic nature spilled over.
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To do laundry, or not to do laundry
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bookbrokelibrarian · 2 months
Text
Coming Home
141 x cook!reader pt. iii
Warning: swearing, F!reader
This is a long one-
You knew that every soldier in base had their own duties to respond to. 141 was no exception.
With how much Soap groaned that he wished you could come with them, give them the food they desired to have the passion to complete their missions,
You almost caved in and listened to his plan of smuggling you in the crates.
But no. There’s others that need that same passion. But you did send over some energy treats you survived on back at the behavioral camp.
Gaz and Price stopped by to say goodbye, and Ghost stopped by to help check how much MRE’s crates they would need.
You didn’t need to help with that, but the conversations you had was well worth it.
“L.T. You gonna miss my cooking while your gone?”
“Course I am. Anything beats boiled fucking eggs. Do me a favor and make pancakes when we get back yeah? The ones with the blueberries in em.”
“You got it.”
You even got to make them breakfast before they had to go.
With a final good bye you were left to your own for a month.
Dealing with the rookies was a new kind of vibe. You requested your team to be of the same people as day one, which was surprisingly easy. But rookies come n go in different forms.
Cleaning crew for example. My gosh you can write a list for how often you have to re-clean equipment.
At first it was just a few suds that stained the steel, then the floors just weren’t swept. Eventually you told HR, since Price wasn’t around, that your team would handle kitchen cleaning.
But then the rookies just got so messy!
You didn’t understand! They were never like this before
Well, reader, it’s cause 141 we’re Team: don’t give Crook a hard fucking time.
With them gone there’s no one out there actively staring them down to clean up after themselves.
Your crew came to you furious one afternoon.
“Crook, they’re tossing the plates and cutlery in the fucking trash cans!”
“We have to dig them out!”
One idiot straight up took the ladle for scooping one of the food trays!
Now you’re cut short on team cause you need supervision in the Hall.
Which is so upsetting. These are grown adults!!
One day- you get a snob in your fucking line.
“You guys don’t have anything healthier?”
“Sorry?”
“This is all greased up shit.”
Your sleeves are rolled up the forearm.
“This is breakfast. It’s 5 am. Take the shit provided for you or eat the fucking cereal in the dispensaries for all I care.”
The little shit reported you to HR!!
You had to revert to the provided base recipes since the ones you provided stated it was too much unhealthy cholesterol.
You understood soldiers needed a balanced meal, but these soldiers are in the best task force in the fucking UK. They burn calories in their fucking sleep.
When the month passes, your heart utterly breaks when your favorite Sergeants greet you with tired and zoned out faces.
This one was a tough one.
Ghost was in bad condition. Price was furious with intel providers. It was rough.
Oh but what breaks your heart more is they light up seeing your food, only to falter just seeing the COLOR.
“Crook? You try something new?”
You bite your lip and shrug. “It was uh…rough while you guys were gone. Someone higher up decided I needed to change stuff in the recipes.”
“Whot?!”
Soap’s exclamation has the whole Hall silenced.
“Fuck you mean they told you to change it?!”
“Does it even taste the same?”
Gaz picks up a piece of the tater tots and stops chewing, looking at you.
“Mate. No.”
“No?!”
“Crook, this is this crap people make fun of us for. This shit has no seasoning. Where’s the bloody salt?!”
“Why’s it not glistening with the butter you make yourself?”
“I don’t use that anymore we bake it.”
“You WHAT?!”
Oh sweet summer child.
Word gets back to Price about the shit food, and he comes to see what the fuck if going on for himself. There’s not a lot of people in lunch hour, which honestly breaks his own heart.
He knows how much you pride yourself feeding his soldiers. And there’s so many of your team members out n about. They’re serving the soldiers. When did that happen?
He finds you in the freezer, your arms crossed above your head, pacing around.
“Crook?”
You jump in surprise. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me, Price.”
“Whas goin on?”
You run a hand down your face in frustration, he can see it in your eyes. Or the eye bags under your eyes.
“I had to be here at fucking 1 am. Didn’t get out till 11. Had to pack up so many leftovers, John.”
“Left overs? That’s a thing?”
You raise your hands. “Now there is!”
You never were much of a cryer, but the frustration and the exhaustion brought a mist in your eyes.
“All because some rookie didn’t want my ‘greasy’ food. These punks never had a mother! I’m sure! No mother would ever teach their child to be such slobs! I had to get half of my team to supervise- Price- SUPERVISE!”
He holds his hands up, and places them on your shoulders. “Easy now, what you mean slobs?”
You don’t even say anything you’re so furious. You grab Price by the sleeve, dragging him out. You point to some of the tables that still haven’t been cleaned cause your crew was spread thin.
There’s pieces of food all over the tops of tables, under benches, and even cutlery left behind.
Then you drag him to the garbage bins and rip open the bottom cab door.
“Look at this shit-“
Ungloved, you pull out cups, plates, forks, spoons, even a fucking spatula that was supposed to be in one of your teammates hangs. Must’ve been distracted with how many soldiers come in.
“Only the rookies come to eat cause they’re not used to how my food tasted like, the seasoned ones stopped coming. I don’t even know what the fuck to do!”
Price sighs in frustration, his hands on his hips. “Shut it down for the week.”
“…what?”
“Shut it down. I’ll fix this. Just take a breather, why don’t you visit Simon? He’s been asking for you.”
You blink up at the Captain.
Oh Simon…
You had the crew clean up and told them to take the week off. Jason, the sweet guy he is, gives you a big ol bear hug. And other follow in suite.
“You’re a great person, Crook.”
“You really are, things will change, good things always come to good people.”
You relaxed a bit after that.
The next thing you know your knocking on Ghosts door frame.
He’s got a cast on his left arm, bandages from his right shoulder to his left side torso, and a boot.
“You look…terrible.”
“Yeah well…heard you’ve been having a shit time without us. I can see it on your face.”
You’d it with him for a few hours, apologizing for not making him his pancakes.
The week flys by like nothing and Price asks to see you in HR.
When you get there, Price is elated to see you. “Right on time!”
You see the HR lady, with a very irritated twitch in her eye.
Price managed to dig around and found out that the recipes they wanted you to copy, were the same ones the old cook used.
“Miss Copper, I’m sure you’re aware of why we had to rid of our last cook yes?”
She sighs. “Captain-“
“Ten of my men got food poisoning in the two years he worked here. Now I know two years is a lot but these gentlemen were out of commission for a solid week.”
Your perplexing face was enough to amuse Price.
“Two cases of salmonella in two weeks, miss copper. Now Miss (L/n) here, hasn’t had a case like that happen yet. She’s been with us only a few months now though, so I guess my argument is flawed-“
“Captain-“
“(L/n) you wanna tell Miss Copper where you were last stationed at?”
You frowned, opening your mouth before sputtering, “Leeway’s Behavioral Sanction.”
The HR lady’s face visibly relaxes. “That…sounds familiar doesn’t it…miss copper?”
You’re so fucking confused.
“Uh…Price?”
“I sent…my son there…”
You straighten your back. “Oh? What was his name?”
“David.”
You frowned. “I’m sorry Miss Copper I didn’t know a David Copper- I knew a David Seary?”
She nods. “I remarried. My Davids last name is my ex husbands…he loved your food.”
Well…how bout that. No further point was needed to be made. All thanks to the sweetheart David, which your food won his heart over. HR gave you permission to continue. Now as for the rookies.
They were on supervised cleaning duty. Gaz and Soap had no issues volunteering to do such supervision, after every meal rush.
Ghost was there one of those days too, eating mini blueberry pancakes since he couldn’t use a fork n knife.
He shouted at the same snob rookie that started this mess, making sure he knew that the plates went into the dish bin and not the trash cans.
Everything went back to normal!
“Slow down, L.T. You’re eating too fast-“
“Crook I havn’t had a decent meal since I left this bloody place, we’re gonna have to move you to the hospital kitchen cause that shite should not legal to serve.”
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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months
Text
Redemption
Sam Kerr x Hardersson!Reader
Millie Bright x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Sam redeems herself
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Magda opens the door on a random Saturday afternoon.
"Can y/n come out to play?"
Sam's standing outside the door and Millie, Guro and Erin are waiting by the brick wall.
Magda has to smother her laughter. It does look like a bunch of naughty kids trying to get their friend's mother to let their friend go out and cause mischief with them.
Sam's holding a helmet.
Magda looks at her suspiciously. "Why? What are you planning?"
Sam looks back at the others helplessly. The three of them whisper to each other before Millie approaches the front gate with a little bike.
"You didn't," Magda groans," Tell me you didn't."
"It was Sam!" Guro yells.
"Is it your life mission to injure my child?" Magda asks dryly," Because you're doing very well."
"Kristie picked it out!" Sam says quickly," I called her in the store! And, I picked up a helmet and same pads. I promise we'll be careful."
"She doesn't know how to ride a bike. You'll have to teach her."
"We will!"
"Hmm." Magda looks over them all suspiciously. "If she comes back with even a little scrape then all of your playdates have to be supervised. Agreed?"
"Agreed!"
"Princesse! Your friends are here to see you!"
In a matter of minutes, you're ready to go. You take Millie's hand and she and the others take you to the park that you train with Zećira at.
"Okay," Millie says," Safety first."
She helps you into the helmet, tightening it nice and tight and then pulling on your elbow and knee pads.
Sam stands a little bit further away. She'd called Kristie the day after she accidentally poisoned you with kiwi and was warned to keep a little distance from you if Jessie wasn't around to keep you safe.
"Right," Erin says," Now get on."
You look at the bike. Guro's holding it upright and you inspect it.
It's two tones of red. One is a more orangey style of red while the other is a kind of maroon red. It looks pretty cool but you're still a little worried so you grip Millie's hand nice and tight.
She leads you over and you poke at a few things before getting on. Momma and Morsa have been promising to get you a bike for a while now but said that it's an after-winter thing so you don't fall on the ice or something.
You think it's kind of cool that Millie, Guro, Erin and Sam have gotten you one early.
You get on.
Erin points at a few things. "There are the brakes. You have to do them gently or you'll go flying off the bike. And these are the pedals. You have to pump your legs very fast, okay?"
You nod. "Okay."
Millie moves behind you to grasp the back. "I'm not going to let go. You just need to pedal, alright?"
You let Guro show you where the hold the handles and then how to get the pedals moving. You go slowly at first because Momma always warns you that you need to start slow on new things.
Millie remains behind you like she said she would and she's gently tell you when to start breaking and when to pedal a bit harder. Guro and Erin jog next to you while Sam stays at the very back.
"Very good!"
You give a Guro a high five as you dismount.
You like your new bike. It's very fun but the seat is a little weird but that's just something you'll have to get used to. Momma and Morsa can both ride bikes and when you were much littler, Momma told you that she used to strap you to her chest so you could ride with them.
You think that's cool but you're much too big for that now so it'll be nice to ride one by yourself.
Guro helps you back on and teasingly taps your helmet. "Working!" She confirms as you giggle," Got to keep that genius brain of yours intact!"
You don't recognise one of those words and furrow your brow. "What's genius mean?"
"Someone who's very smart," Millie says as she tucks your feet under the little straps over the pedals," Like you."
You think for a moment. "But I'm not smart."
"You are," Guro insists, bobbing her head up and down like you see the seagulls do at the beach," Because you can speak so many languages."
You don't really understand that. Languages are easy and Morsa once told you smart people are people that can learn and do lots of hard things. Languages are easy though so you're not that smart because what you can do isn't difficult.
"You're like a sponge," Erin says.
"I'm not a sponge!"
"It's a good thing," Millie promises you," It means you suck up all the information we give you and it stays in your head."
You fall silent to think again. Maybe you are like a sponge. Momma says you have a very good memory and having a good memory is exactly what Millie's just described.
"Hmm," You say, not agreeing or denying because you don't know which response is correct. You don't like being wrong so sometimes it's better to just say nothing when grown-ups are being confusing.
"Should we have another go?" Guro asks," I'll stay at the back!"
"No fair!" Erin complains," I wanted to help!"
Guro sticks her tongue out at Erin and you giggle as she takes the spot that Millie used to be in.
Millie hangs back with Sam as Guro and Erin start pushing you along. Your feet are pumping furiously to get up to speed.
"It's was awful," Sam laments as she jogs lightly with Millie at the very back," The look on Kristie's face when she found out!" She buries her face in her hands. "She's never going to trust me with kids again. She told me if anything ever happens to y/n because of me again, she'll kill me! They've not even met in person!"
"Mate," Millie snickers," She'll have to get here quick if she's planning to beat out Magda."
Sam groans again. "It was awkward knocking on there door. She made me feel like I was a kid again."
"It's the Mum stare." Millie shivers at the thought. "It's terrifying and Magda had all that time before y/n and Pernille even moved in. I hate to think about how well Pernille's perfected it."
Sam shivers now too. It's one thing to see Magda angry, that's expected but she rues the day that someone gets Pernille angry enough to explode.
She looks over to where you and the others are and then freezes.
There's a long patch of ice on the path that you swerve into uncontrollably and you lose control of your new bike. That wouldn't be a problem on its own but Erin and Guro both get totally wiped out by the ice and tumble into each other.
"Oh, shit."
Sam barely hears Millie's words as she takes off into a sprint, making sure to stay on the grass borders rather than the stone path. You've got a good distance on her (and you're also going down a slight incline) but you're still only little so it's not too far to catch up.
In your blind panic, you've forgotten about your brakes and, honestly, Sam's kind of glad. If you slammed them on now, you'd probably go headfirst over your handlebars and land painfully on the ground.
"Whoa!"
Sam manages to get in front (barely) and grabs onto the front of your bike. You're still going pretty fast, a combination of the little hill and the ice, so the bike slams into her groin.
It's painful but Sam can't really feel it as she's focused on you.
Millie's further away, helping Guro and Erin to their feet as Sam wheels the bike onto the grass and helps you off.
You're panting a little bit but not crying so she counts it as a win. You look back at where you lost control of it all, your shoulders falling and rising quickly.
You move into Sam's arms, burying your head into her neck like you would do with Momma and Morsa if they were here.
"Hey," Sam says softly, drawing you in and rubbing your back," It's okay. It's okay."
You nod. It's a barely noticeable movement but you're pressed up so close to Sam that it almost feels like you want to hide away under her skin.
"It's alright. Hey, you did so well for your first try. So well. I know it got scary pretty fast but that's okay. Next time, we'll go somewhere with no ice. Does that sound good?"
You nod again.
"Let's get you home."
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marvelfanfics1 · 11 days
Note
omg omg idk if u take requests if u are can you do a winter soldier x little reader? maybe like bucky somehow gets into the winter soldier mode and is scary towards everyone else but the reader (like he goes soft for the reader)😭
Code: Winter
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Pairing: daddy!Bucky x little!reader
Warnings: age regression, soft!Winter Soldier, mentions of guns, angst?, some fluff
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You whined when your nap got interrupted by the blarring alarm and constant repeating words 'code winter'.
Holding your hands over your ears you turned on your other side, expecting your daddy to lay beside you reading a book but frowned when you found his side of the bed empty.
Grabbing your stuffie you got up from your comfortable bed, making your way to the door and opening it slightly, peeking your head out.
You saw several agents and trainees running past your room, all seeming rather panicked and your little mind can't grasp the thought of there being a reason, or someone, for them being so scared, instead your curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and look for yourself.
Meanwhile in the common area Steve was trying to console Bucky with Sam and Natasha behind him, aiming their weapons at him.
"Buck, come on, you know us-" Steve placed his shield down, trying to show he's no threat to the soldier.
"Steve! Look out!" Natasha shouted all three of them throw themselves to the side when the couch was being thrown their way.
Just as the soldier started approaching them he got send back by a repulsor shot from Tony who flied in just in time, in his iron man suit.
"That was a 2 thousand dollar couch, Terminator."
The soldier now grabbed the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants, aiming it at Tony when a small voice had them all turning their heads.
"Daddy...?" Your bottom lip trembling you held your stuffie close to your chest, not understanding why he was being mean to your aunt and uncles. "What you doin'?"
The soldier slowly made his way towards you, aiming his his gun straight at Steve when he took a step forward.
While walking to you the voice in his head he kept pushing away became even louder than before.
Do. Not. Hurt. Her. I dare you.
When he stood before you he tilted his head at the tear that was rolling down your cheek, his metal hand reaching up to wipe it away gently. In the deepest of his mind he knows you're no threat to him and picked you up with his metal arm placing you on his hip, his other hand still aiming the gun at the others to keep them at a good distance while walking out of the room.
The others all let out a sigh, still not at ease knowing the freaking Winter Soldier has you with him with no supervision.
"What are we gonna do now? If we step one foot in their room we'll have a bullet in our head." Sam said crossing his arms.
"He won't hurt her." Steve assured them.
"And how do you know that?" Tony laughed at him.
"I just know, alright. As much as the Winter Soldier wanted to, he couldn't. Bucky would never let that happen, even in this state."
"You better be right, Capsicle." Tony pointed a finger at him.
Back in your room, you were sitting on his lap, trying to analyze his expressions but there were none. Cold and dull eyes where staring at you, not the bright blue ones that you got used to and loved so much.
"You not daddy?" You asked, nervously playing with a lose seam of your stuffie.
When he shook his head you frowned a little. It confused you how he can be the Bucky you've known for years now but also doesn't at the same time. It's like talking to a clone, a much more colder one at that but still you can't help but feel safe in his arms.
The soldier doesn't like to see you upset, some inner part of him feels the need to comfort you in any way possible.
"Call me papa." He said with a russian accent and your face lit up at that, glad you didn't lost your caregiver completely.
You nod with a small smile, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, your interrupted nap now catching up with you.
"Love you, papa." You mumbled, yawning before finally closing your eyes again.
The soldier hummed in response, his metal hand rubbing subconsciously on your back and feeling your body relaxing against his.
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Taglist
For everything:
@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid
For Bucky:
@almostcontentcreator
Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!!
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darkbluekies · 3 months
Note
I just read Jerry and Hedwig reacting to us bleeding on the sheets what about the guys👀 specifically silas (cause my daddy issues run wild for him)😩
Silas, Dr Kry & King Edmund drabbles: bleeding through at a "sleepover" (or in their house)
The girls reaction male!yanderes (mob boss, doctor & king) x fem!reader Warnings?: sexual indication, disgusted by blood, yandere
Silas:
You're on a mission with him, staying in a house belonging to the second in command. Being the boss’s little darling has its benefits — especially in these situations. If you hadn't been his, chances are that you would get killed for ruining someone's sheets.
"Silas", you whisper while shaking him carefully. "Please, wake up. Oh, God, please wake up ..."
He grunts and opens his dark eyes, looking around confusedly before fixating his eyes on you. He freezes.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asks raspily and grabs your arm.
"I bled through ...", you whisper weakly, body full pf panic. "I didn't know, I wasn't supposed to start now!"
Silas removes the cover to look at the stain. He doesn't say anything as he removes them all before picking up his phone to call one of his most trustworthy men.
"Don't worry about it, baby", he says tiredly. "I'll fix this."
"Will your second in command get mad?" you ask hesitantly.
"He won't. He knows better." Silas holds the phone to his ear. "I need you to bring me new sheets and to send someone to buy whatever Y/N tells you to get. Here Y/N."
He gives you the phone. You tell the man on the other side what you need. He replies politely, knowing better than to talk informally to you. Silas stands by, watching carefully and rubbing your back.
As soon as you get what you need, you get out of your bottom clothes and change. Silas sits down in bed with you in his lap. He brings his legs up to trap you in his embrace. His rough hands sneak under your shirt to massage your aching stomach.
"You know ...", he whispers in your ear, hand traveling lower. "Exercise helps with cramps ... I know something that is a great form of exercise. Want me to show you?"
You grab his hand, moving it back to your stomach.
"Come on", he smirks against your jaw. "You'd like it."
"I'll kick your nuts if you continue talking", you warn him.
Silas chuckles and pulls the blankets higher, kissing your forehead.
"Women and their temperament", he grins and softens his face. "Guess I have to wait then. Why don't you try going to sleep, little thing? It's late."
"Are you sure your second in command won't be mad?" you ask carefully.
"If he even dares to snarl at you, I'll stain his sheets with his blood instead." Silas kisses your lips with a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to be worried about, little thing, I've always got your back."
Dr Kry:
He has installed a baby monitor, just a week prior, to being able to supervise you 24/7. He wakes up by hearing shuffling from the machine and takes a look to see you grabbing all of your sheets in your arms. Dr Kry frowns. Are you going to sleep on the floor again? You have such weird ideas to entertain yourself. But the look of sheer guilt and horror paints your face, knocking those thoughts out of his head. Dr Kry hurries to grab his silk robe and hurry up to your room.
You're currently washing them in the bathtub. You freeze when you hear him unlock the door and enter the room.
"Where are you?" he asks.
"Here", you reply quietly, watching how he enters the bathroom.
Dr Kry crouches down beside you on the floor, putting his hand on your shoulder. He glances between the sheets and your face.
"What happened?" he asks.
"I-I bled through", you say. "I'm so sorry, doctor, I will fix it-"
"No, you're not." Dr Kry grabs your arm and pulls you up in your feet. "I'll fix it. You're not well, you shouldn't do this."
You feel bad. Dr Kry works long shifts and during his only rest, you've forced him up to clean up the mess you've caused.
"Y/N, it's fine", the doctor reassures you and walks over to give you a short hug. "Things like this happens. You should look at it from another angle — you can be pregnant. You're fertile. Alright? That's a good thing. A very good thing."
He's secretly glad that his poisoning hasn't affected your reproduction organs. You need them. He wants you to have them. Dr Kry wants nothing more than to have children with you.
"Let's stop crying and realize that this isn't a big thing, okay?" he says and wipes your tears. "You don't have to be ashamed. I've watched much, much worse things."
"Like what?" you ask quietly.
Dr Kry smiles teasingly. "I've seen people spill urine samples on themselves, have had people using the rear temperature stick for a patients mouth, and whatnot. This is nothing. It's natural, nothing to be ashamed of."
You try not to smile. "Did someone really use the wrong temperature stick?"
Dr Kry grins and nods, happy to see you a bit calmer.
"Let's get you some painkillers now so you can go rest", he says and puts his hand on your back to guide you. "I'll change the sheets, and you can just sit by, okay? Everything you need is in the bathroom."
He sits with you until the cramps stop, and decide to stay in the room with you while you sleep, just in case you would wake up again. He smiles slightly for himself. The poisioned air hasn't ruined your chances of ferility, he couldn't be more greateful.
King Edmund
You're terrified of telling him. Edmund is the type to believe that you can hold it in. With absolutely zero knowledge about females, risk is that he will get mad at you for ruining his expensive sheets instead of understanding. You know that he buys them from special places. One of a kind.
Edmund has never been taught how women work, it has been taboo and unnecessary for him, as a king, to learn. The only thing he knows is that a woman bleeds once a month, and that is it. Nothing more. He doesn't know how it works or why it happens.
But you can't stop the maid from telling him. He comes walking from his office with a deep frown on his face. You're dead. Before sending the maids out, he walks over to the bed and inspects the damage. When the girls are gone and the door is closed, he turns to you.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.
"I thought that you would get mad", you admit quietly. "It's your expensive sheets ..."
"And you think that it'll help the situation by sending one of the maids to tell me, instead of telling me yourself?"
"I didn't send her. I didn't want you to know ... at all."
"Why?"
"I told you ... I was scared that you'd get mad. You'd have told me to keep it in."
He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "For fucks sake, Y/N!" He removes his hands. "Why in the living Hell would I care more about about a pair of sheets rather than my own wife?"
You don't answer. Edmund walks over and grabs your shoulders before pulling you into a hug.
"You underestimate me, my jewel", he mutters and kisses your temple. "Now, go take a bath."
He tells a maid to fill the tub with scalding hot water to soothe your cramps and tells another maid to change the sheets.
"Burn the sheets and the night gown", he tells the maid. "I don't want anyone unworthy to see my queen's blood, got it?"
And the maid nods quickly before running off.
While you sit in the steaming tub, Edmund sits on the floor beside it, keeping you company. He should be doing work, but instead he's here, with you.
"I'm sorry about your sheets", you sigh and lean against the tub. "I know that they're expensive."
"Shut up about those fucking sheets now", Edmund groans and caresses your cheek. "I have enough to buy a hundred more sheets. I could buy the entire world, if I wanted to. A few sheets are nothing for me."
He leans over to kiss your wet forehead.
"Are you disgusted?" you ask carefully.
"A bit ... but not as much as I thought I'd be", Edmund replies with a grimace. "I'm more concerned about you, to be honest. Seeing you bleed, in any way, makes my heart sink in a disgusting way. I'm just angry I don't have anyone to blame for your pain."
You try to joke. "Blame my parents for making me a girl."
But he looks deadly serious. "No, never. They made you ... my wife and queen. I could never blame them for giving you this pain." He sighs and taking your hand. "If there is anything i can do to take the pain away, tell me. Teach me."
"Well, you actually had this right, the warm water. It helps."
"Anything else?"
"Sugar. Just for the hormones."
Edmund nods, thinking. He shouts for a maid to tell the kitchen staff to make cakes. He then turns back to you and smiles proudly. Maybe he isn't as bad as you thought?
964 notes · View notes
a-hazbin-reader · 2 months
Note
Hey! Love your stuff! But i kinda notice you mainly do Vox and Al so...
Can you do like....... A husker x child!reader headcanons ? (Platonic ofc)
The old bartender finds a kid completely without adult supervision at a bar (their just drawing ) , goes up to them to find thier guardian only to realise they dont have any?
Husker wants to get rid of them but they ultimately grow on him and they become closer. The kid is sarcastic and they shit on alastor together....
And they draw a mocking pic of the radio demon and stick it onto the fridge of the hotel for everyone to see?
There is a LOT of Vox and Alastor in my inbox but I'm a sucker for Husk so-
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Husk X Reader Headcanons
❌️Romantic
✅️Platonic
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TW: Unaccompanied minor in places a baby shouldn't be
Description: 👆⬆️
Sometimes Husk just needs a break from being a bartender, wanting to be the one being served
He wants to relax in his free time and just have a moment to himself
Actually starts to let loose when he suddenly feels a tiny hand tugging on his wing
Husk is so confused when he looks down to see a child staring up at him, clutching dirty paper and crayons
"Can you help me up, mister..? The chairs are too high..."
Sets you up on the barstool next to him, still too stunned to really ask why you're even here
He looks at the bartender as they pass him his drink, gesturing to you with a wtf expression
They just shrug as they give you a plastic cup with water in it, obviously used to having you around by that point
Finally snaps out of it once the bartender pushes a plate of food towards you
Don't look at him like that it's perfectly natural to be freaked out by a kid at a bar
You're just kicking your legs and drawing, munching on the food given to you
You shouldn't be in a rowdy place like this, who's supposed to be watching you??
"So uh...does your mommy take you here often?"
"No, does yours?"
Motherfucker you're already spilling your water on yourself-here let him help you-how are you so bad at this???
"Your papa then?"
"No, I don't have any parents but- *insert bartender's name* -is really nice and let's me hang out in here.."
You're breaking his fucking heart, kid
"Oh well...don't mind me then."
"Uh yeah, I won't."
Sarcastic for such a little squirt, aren't you?
His drink suddenly tastes sour and he's no longer in the mood for another, watching you unhappily
Starts seeing you every time he visits the bar, always keeping to yourself and oblivious to the things going on around you
At first, he's annoyed whenever he sees you, reluctantly keeping an eye on you and making sure nobody bothers you
Even if they do, you're so witty for your age that you leave just about everyone gobsmacked by the shit that comes out of your mouth
The whole point of coming where was to relax and instead he's worrying about some kid
Then that annoyance slips away to reluctant fondness as you worm your way into his old heart
He starts to look forward to seeing you and starts bringing little things for you like clothes, toys, coloring books
Listens to you babble about what you do with your days and how you've managed to survive on your own
Not the bartender developing a crush on him for it
Husk doesn't even realize how attached he is until one day he visits the bar and you aren't there, the bartender distracted and upset
You haven't shown up in couple of days
He immediately goes looking for you, frequenting all the places he's heard you mention
Is asking anyone if they've seen you, getting more frantic with each negative answer
Finally finds someone who knows where you are, leading Husk to where you've been hiding out
And now he knows why you haven't shown up
Husk gathers up your shaking, feverish body, hating the fact that you're so sick
"H-Husk..?"
You can barely even open your eyes, he can feel your little body burning up in his arms
"Hey kid..."
He's not leaving you here
He takes you back to the hotel so that you can be properly taken care of, leaning on the others when he doesn't know what to do
Charlie and Vaggie are the biggest helps tbh, they're actually good at caring for people
Alastor is entirely unhelpful except for the fact that he can provide medicine and other supplies
"My my~ Look at what the cat dragged in! Aha!"
"Shut up...you weird strawberry man.."
Even when you're sick you're still a riot
He tries to keep Niffty tf away from you but you think she's funny
He and Angel are your makeshift heaters, so fuzzy and warm that you want to cuddle them all the time
Angel complains the entire time though so you don't really prefer him
Mostly you want Husk with you and he sticks with you until you're feeling better
By then you're well acquainted with everyone at the hotel and they're all quite attached to you
Everyone agrees that you live there now and you get your own room even though you have a habit of sleeping in Husk's
It's okay, Husk looks forward to waking up to your adorable face and doesn't even mind when you kick him in your sleep
You play with Niffty and Angel, learn from Charlie and Vaggie, bother Alastor with your less than flattering renditions of him
You don't like that Alastor is so rude to Husk so you've taken to being a little thorn in his side
Kids pick up on their parent's emotions what can I say
Which Alastor absolutely hates but hides it behind a tight smile, he's surprisingly patient with you
And if those drawings of Alastor on the fridge suddenly go missing?? Husk can always ask you to make him another one
Husk finds himself thinking of you as his kid more and more often, surprised that you ever got this close to his heart
And you yourself slip up a few times and call him dad/papa/daddy/father/pops
You're always a little embarrassed by the chorus of awwws that follow afterwards but you don't really mind it anymore
And neither does he if he's being honest
He struggles sometimes to be a proper caregiver for you but you always seem to just love him more for his flaws
You're too fucking cute
You're definitely his kid
And don't worry Husk lets the bartender know you're safe and brings you to visit them after their shifts
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I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I LOVE DADDY!HUSK SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT TOO
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edenesth · 28 days
Text
The Way to His Heart [17]
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Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader
AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.
Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe
Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18
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How dare he—
Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.
Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.
Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.
Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.
Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.
In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.
For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.
It's time you come to me now, darling.
However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.
Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."
Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.
As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.
The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.
Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.
Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.
Could the Queen have been right all along?
Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.
The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."
Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.
He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."
"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."
Everything suddenly fell into place.
The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.
However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.
Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.
The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.
Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."
His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."
With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."
He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."
"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."
You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."
I'm almost there, my love.
Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.
Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.
Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.
The things you do to me, my wife.
The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.
Or... was he really?
His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.
Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.
At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.
Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"
Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."
The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."
Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"
Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."
Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."
Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"
"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.
With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.
The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.
As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.
This isn't another dream, is it?
You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.
Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.
This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"
Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.
Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.
But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."
His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.
Why wasn't he fighting for you?
What was going on?
"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"
Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."
With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.
Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.
With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.
I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.
« Preview of Part 18 »
"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."
Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.
Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"
The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."
Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"
Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."
Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"
"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.
No, this can't be.
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I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧
Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3
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