#***well not we’ll. i hate mobile tags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewarriorspecial · 1 year ago

Text

It's All Good

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner

Additional Tags: Friends With Benefits, Booty Calls, Spanking, Aftercare, Aromantic Guy

Kyle badly wants to indulge a kink he's shy about. Guy's an old friend and he doesn't get tied up in strings. Guy's just the right guy to take care of Kyle.

(I couldn't sleep because I'm having surgery in the morning and I'm freaked out so enjoy some coping via otp! Cotping? Is that good? Did I do a funny? Gonna try to sleep again. Hope this is good!)

“I mean, I don’t…I don’t do this very often.” Kyle says into the phone, palm pressed to his forehead like he can somehow keep the embarrassment he feels from waterfalling out. He can’t believe he’s hitting up his best friend for a booty call. This is some kind of new low.

“You don’t have to justify anything with me, kid,” Guy’s voice crackles through the speaker.

Kid. Kyle loves and hates how that makes him feel all at once.

“We’ll still be cool, right? Like, nothings gonna change between us?”

“I dunno, you might fall in love with me,” Guy laughs.

“You know what I mean,” Kyle hisses and Guy can feel the kid rolling his eyes.

“I know. I do. We’re good.” Silence from the other end. Just Kyle’s shaky breathing. “So.” Guy’s voice rumbles, low and hot, “Tell me what you like.”

“I don’t know. I just—“ Kyle sighs.

“There’s no one here but us. You know I’ll be good to you. I won’t tell anybody shit. Just talk to me, honey.”

“I know. I know I—I trust you.”

“Good, good.”

“Well, something I like is, um. It’s—I don’t get to very often. I mean, I don’t really bring it up. I get enough shit, you know?”

“Go ahead.”

“I just…it’s just…This is hard, you know!”

“So am I.” The rustle of clothes that accompanies Kyle’s shy laugh tells Guy the kid is covering his eyes. Judging by the subtle creak in the background, he’s flailing all over his bed—probably threw one of his arms over his face. A real pretty picture. “Buddy, if you don’t tell me soon I’m gonna start guessing and I’m definitely gettin’ started without you.”

Kyle’s laugh is far away and muffled this time. He pulled the phone away from his covered face as he was wracked with involuntary, embarrassed giggling. His breath is faster and louder when he puts the receiver to his ear again. “Really?” He breathes.

“Oh really. Very, actually. I’m proud’a myself for keeping my hands to myself all those years you lived with me.”

“Yeah?” It’s so soft Guy barely hears it.

Of course the twelve on the other end of the line is fretting about being a six. Typical. “You’re hot. Period. I’ve always wanted to play with you.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?!” Kyle’s voice gets embarrassingly high and he thinks his eyes might bug out of his head.

“I was sure you were straight.”

“I mean, I am. I love women. I still date women.”

“So do I.” Comes the easy, breezy reply.

The sigh that rushes out of Kyle’s nose is both amused and relieved; Guy remembers the sound. “That’s what I like about you Guy. You get it.”

“You just like me for my big, huge, throbbin' brain.” That earns Guy a real, full laugh. “Definitely not objectifyin’ my bangin’ bod.” Kyle laughs again and Guy can hear him get up and start pacing his apartment. Good. A mobile Kyle is a happy Kyle. “So come on, tell your bestie what you like in the sack.”

“Well, it’s—“ Kyle starts and the sound of a glass hitting countertop and liquid pouring interrupts his words for a moment. Kyle takes an audible chug of what Guy assumes is liquor and heaves another sigh. “I want you to spank me,” he blurts out.

“No problem.”

“Thats—really?”

“Really. Bring that tight little ass over here and drink some real hooch with your friend.”

——

Kyle’s distinct knock of shave-and-a-haircut raps through the living room and Guy jumps up at the sound. He opens the door and is treated to the sight of Kyle leaning in the doorway. He forgets sometimes that Kyle’s actually a little taller and he takes a moment to admire the way his tight, lean body fills the doorframe.

Kyle’s really done up for this little booty call. He’s got on one of Guy’s favorite outfits—the Nine Inch Nails t-shirt under the leather jacket and the way, way too tight jeans. Fuck. Kyle is hot.

“You gonna invite me in or were you planning on doing this in the hallway?”

Guy steps aside as he says, “Hey, If you’re into being watched I’ll call a few friends.”

Kyle’s confident stride stutters as he’s struck through with a surge of lust at the thought. He whips around to say something snarky but nothing comes out. His pretty mouth works for a moment and his heart shaped face flushes.

“That good, huh?”

When Kyle smiles, he smiles with his whole body. The smile that starts in his eyes spreads to his full lips, tips his head back, relaxes his shoulders and causes him to rock his weight from heel to heel. It’s the way these little details about his best friend warm Guy heart that makes him think, this must be something like what love feels for romantic people. He can’t imagine, even for a second, cuffing his expressive friend in any kind of captivity. Kyle needs to love and be loved to flourish. If anybody ever put his fire out Guy’s gonna put their fuckin eyes out.

“So?” Kyle asks as he rocks back and forth, nervous yet excited, “How do you wanna do this?”

“Lets talk about it,” Guy nods to the kitchen island where two glasses and a bottle of expensive liquor are already waiting. Kyle leans on the counter and spins his glass with his finger.

“Well, like I was kinda saying before, I really don’t do this a lot.”

“Hook-ups or kinky stuff?” Guy asks as he pours his drink and playfully stills Kyle’s glass to fill it as well.

“The—well. Both.”

“That’s cool. No judgin’ from me. You know that.”

Kyle hangs his head and pushes his thick hair out of his face. It bounces right back into place. “I feel so uncool.”

“Well,” Guy teases loudly with a shrug, “You’re still hot. So.” He dramatically protects his glass as he turns away from Kyle’s play-punch. “Alright, alright, so tell me this. What’s allowed and what’s not allowed?”

“Okay. Um, I don’t want to actually—” Kyle waves his hands in a vague way. Guy raises an eyebrow and sips his drink, waiting for Kyle to elaborate. Kyle laughs and continues, “I don’t want to actually, well, fuck.”

“Cool.” Guy sets his glass down and leans both arms on the counter, unconsciously mirroring Kyle’s position.

“And um, I don’t know if I want to get fully naked. But maybe? Maybe just a little at a time.”

“That’s cool, too.”

“Okay,” Kyle’s smile is slow and shy when he looks up. “So, I kind of picture it like, I don’t know. We warm up somehow—drinks is nice by the way—“ Guy simply responds by raising his glass with a smug smile, “and then I wanna lay across your lap and then, you know.”

“And then what?” Guy’s lopsided grin grows even wider.

“You know! Thats—I want you to spank me.” Kyle’s words rush out in a hushed tone.

“I fuckin love hearing you say that.”

Kyle stands up straight, downs what’s in his glass in one go. He walks the length of the kitchen island, putting himself into Guy’s space. His eyes dart back and forth between Guy’s, not sure where he wants to look. His lip press together and he swallows. He looks down at Guy’s wide chest, lays a hand on the thin material of Guy’s tank top—feels the heat radiating through. He looks back up again with his big, brown eyes, “I want you to spank me.” And this time his voice is strong and clear.

Guy makes a sound somewhere between a purr and a chuckle, “Is kissin’ allowed?” He asks in a soft rumble.

“Oh yeah,” Kyle’s head is already tilting, his eyes already sliding closed.

This close, Kyle’s smells intoxicating. The mint and vetiver cologne he’s wearing blends with the sun-warmed leather jacket and the liquor on his breath.

Guy tilts his chin up to meet Kyle’s lips with his own. He winds his thick fingers in Kyle’s silky hair and pulls him close. There are so many things he wants to do to his pretty ex-roomate and there’s entirely too little time in a day, in a lifetime. He pushes Kyle against the counter, pushes himself between Kyle’s legs and Kyle lets himself be moved.

Kyle sinks into Guy’s broad frame and drapes his arms over the redhead’s shoulders. He opens his mouth, licking against Guy’s lips. But Guy ducks his head and starts sucking a bruise into the elegant curve of Kyle’s neck. Kyle digs his fingers into Guy’s shoulders. He drags his nails up and down Guy’s scalp, twisting the short hair between his knuckles and making Guy growl.

Guy drags his teeth over the mark he made before he decides to bite down. Kyle groans and grinds their hips together. He drapes his weight over Guy like he’s trying to decide if he wants to just climb him.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Kyle gasps.

Guy smashes his lips roughly against Kyle’s ear and growls, “You don’t want me to bend you over right here? Right in front of the kitchen window?” When Kyle shivers Guy chuckles darkly. He runs his hands greedily over Kyle’s shivering waist, down and down until he has two hands full of Kyle’s perfect ass. “Kidding, kidding,” he says softly as he starts to lift Kyle up.

“Hey!” Kyle’s indignant squeak dissolves into a giggle, “What are you doing?”

“I’m draggin’ ya to my cave to do nasty things to ya.” Guy carries Kyle effortlessly to the bedroom and drops him onto the plush, king size bed. He drops himself onto the edge of the bed and pats his lap.

Kyle runs his hand through his hair again and he bites his lip.

“C’mere,” Guy beckons Kyle with a finger.

Kyle sits up on his knees, a mischievous look in his eyes. He runs his hands up and down the the front of the jacket. He locks eyes with Guy again and slowly works the jacket off of his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. Keeping his gaze steady, he slowly crawls across the bed and lays himself carefully over Guy’s knees.

“There you go,” Guy hums as he runs his hands up and down Kyle’s back. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Kyle sighs heavily, wriggling in Guy’s lap. He can’t decide where he wants to rest his hands.

“This okay?” Guy asks, running his hand over the generous swell of Kyle’s jean-clad cheeks.

“Yes,” Kyle’s voice tightens and he grips the sheet with one hand and Guy’s pant leg with the other.

“Ready?”

“Oh yeah.”

Guy lays the first smack with easy pressure, enjoying the way Kyle jumps and a soft little “Ah!” Escapes his mouth. So he does it again. Kyle’s head drops and his body writhes. He’s audibly trying to stifle his sounds. Guy keeps a steady rhythm with his beginning strikes. “You like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“What?” Kyle looks over his shoulder, glassy eyed and genuinely confused.

“Say it for me. Tell me you like it.”

“Oh! I love it. Guy, this is so good. Please don’t stop.”

The lust that claws and churns inside of Guy brings his hand down a little harder than he meant but that hit brings a desperate sound out of Kyle that Guy knows he’ll never forget. So he does it again.

Kyle writhes more, but he’s not trying to get away. He’s rubbing himself against Guy’s thighs. “God,” he moans, “Guy, please, please. Harder.”

“Can I,” Guy asks, tugging at the back of Kyle’s jeans.

“Yeah, yes, yes,” Kyle chants as he helps Guy push his pants down around his thighs, leaving him in just his boxers. “Ah, fuck!” He shouts as the next strike lands. “Yeah! Fuck yeah!”

Kyle’s lost his ability to hold any sounds in and Guy’s lost between Kyle’s moans and the fleshy slaps echoing off of the bedroom walls.

“St—still okay?” Guy manages to ask through clenched teeth. He thinks he might get off before Kyle does.

“Yes! Please! Oh, God!” Kyle’s hips keep their steady roll. His back arches and his knuckles go white. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Guy’s palm and shoulder burn but he couldn’t stop now if the whole world was burning. He can see the muscles in Kyle’s ass clench as he drives his hips down. His entire back clenches up and all the air in his body is punched out in one delicious groan. Guy lays one last, good smack on that perky ass and digs his fingers into the abused flesh. Kyle’s groan drags out into a high, delirious sound. His arms give out and he collapses in Guy’s lap.

“Good?” Guy asks as he softly pets Kyle from the crown of his head to his tailbone like a cat.

“Yeah,” Kyle’s voice is muffled where his face is pressed into Guy’s calf.

“C’mere,” Guy chuckles, gently lifting Kyle under his armpits and urging him onto the bed. “Come lay down. Take a minute.”

Kyle struggles into place, hissing when he tries to pull his jeans up. His skin is on fire.

“Wait here a sec.” Guy disappears into the bathroom and for a moment, Kyle feels frighteningly lonely. Guy reappears with a wet washcloth in his hand. He nudges Kyle onto his stomach and tugs the back of his underwear, “Can I?” Kyle nods weakly in response. Guy lays the cool towel over Kyle’s angry, red skin. Kyle jumps but sighs and quickly relaxes again.

“Thank you,” Kyle whispers.

“No problem.”

“What about you?”

“Relax. If you want to, we can go another round,” Guy pushes Kyle’s sweaty bangs out of his face.

“I’d like that,” Kyle’s voice is raspy and his eyes shine with excitement.

“Yeah? What other kinks you got, kid?”

Kyle groans and bites his lip, “That.”

“What?”

“I like when you call me kid.”

“I like where this is goin’.”

They smile at each other and Kyle’s breathing slows down. Guy folds an arm behind his head and stares at the ceiling, a content smile on his face. As Kyle’s body relaxes and the adrenaline fades he feels weirdly bad. Empty. He shifts uncomfortably, letting the towel slide off. He starts to pull his boxers and jeans back up.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Kyle says dismissively but the light in his eyes is gone. He’s pressing his lips together and he’s very still.

“You sure?”

“Yeah Im—I don’t know. I just feel,” he struggles, hands rolling through the air as he tries to describe how he feels.

“Vulnerable?”

“Yeah. Actually,” Kyle looks at Guy finally, openly relieved. “I don’t know why. That was awesome.”

“It’s normal. C’mere,” Guy stretches his arm towards Kyle, inviting him to come close. Tentatively, Kyle scoots closer. He watches Guy’s face as he lays his head down on his friend’s shoulder.

“This okay?” Kyle asks. Guy smiles and nods as he wraps his big arm around Kyle. He lets his hand rest on Kyle’s hip. Already, Kyle is feeling warm and less lonely. He lets his arm drape over Guy’s belly. “We’re still cool?”

“Course! I love sex, kid. And I still care about’cha. We’re still friends. Relax. It’s all good.”

“It’s all good,” Kyle echoes. He wants to tell Guy he loves him but he doesn’t want to make it weird. He means it platonically and the longer he listens to Guy’s heartbeat the less lonely he feels and the more sure he is of his place in Guy’s life.

It’s all good.

#*myfic #guykyle #peace love and guykyle

11 notes · View notes

dertaglichedan · 2 years ago

Text

https://humanevents.com/2023/06/25/jack-posobiec-the-trump-wray-conversations

The following is an excerpt from The Antifa: Stories from the Black Bloc, by Jack Posobiec

President Trump had had it. The Director of the FBI, Chris Wray, was sitting across from him as the president leaned forward on the Resolute Desk of the Oval Office, arms-crossed. Director Wray shrugged and put his hands in the air like all middle managers do when they don’t have a good response to the boss. He then proceeded to get chewed out because President Trump, or “the Boss” as staff called him, hates when people shrug in response to his questions.

“Antifa, they’re a non-factor,” pleaded Wray, citing the extremism/ domestic terrorism database compiled by FBI analysts working in the cubicle farms of the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

“That’s a damn lie, Chris, and you know it,” shot back the president. “I see this stuff night after night on Twitter. We’ve got Homeland Security up in Portland getting attacked by gangs of these thugs and you’re going to sit there and tell me it’s not happening?”

Wray paused, looking out the window, searching for something to say. “Sir, we’re working on it” he ended up going with.

“We’ll see,” responded the President with his characteristic New York sarcasm.

It was the morning after the October 28, 2020 rallies in Arizona, and the President was putting Wray on notice, as he had many times before, according to interviews I had conducted with multiple administration officials with Oval Office access.

According to a senior White House official of the Trump administration, this was the latest in a series of three occasions that the President and Wray had butted heads over the subject of Antifa. The first time was at the height of the Floyd riots around the country, and the second was during the height of the federal courthouse attacks in Portland. The official told me, “It mostly consisted of Wray playing them down as a minor inconvenience with no real training, even though we know about People’s Protection Units (YPG), or saying the FBI can’t got after a political ideology, or playing them off like a bunch of anarchist LARPers. Wray would say Fox and OAN were exaggerating. He got tag-teamed by the Boss and O’Brien every time, and always promised to come down harder after every scrap but obviously never did.”

The fact that the director of the FBI would push back against a direct request from the president, as well as his national security advisor is disconcerting, to say the least. This factor becomes even more troubling in light of the fact that during Wray’s tenure in January 2021 he mobilized the full force of the FBI to track down non-violent MAGA protesters nationwide.

I have received dozens of reports of peaceful MAGA-supporting families and individuals who received knocks on their door from their local FBI field office simply for attending a rally for President Trump in Washington, D.C. These supporters participated in first-amendment protected activity exercising their civil rights in the nation’s capital, and ended up under the aegis of federal law enforcement. Why would Chris Wray balk at investigating violent anarchists while sending teams of FBI field agents after peaceful MAGA supporters? Why is the FBI crowdsourcing the ID of peaceful MAGA teenagers but disinterested in investigating and prosecuting the perpetrators of the 2020 riots? What it comes down to is the prioritization of resources within the bureau, the same way every department of the federal government is run. Simply, the federal government is biased towards targeting right-wing groups rather than left-wing groups. This derives from a number of factors, but a strong component of it is single-source media consumption by those who live in the Beltway and truly run the government of the United States: the interagency bureaucracy.

0 notes

the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

775 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.4)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,944 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: If you don’t like the tags on this fic, just a warning to stop reading because it’s taking the turn that was mentioned all up in the tags

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

It had barely been a week and a half and Steve was already calling you. They’d sent you flowers twice and sent Tatiana a check to give to you. But apparently giving you the time you thought you needed was not on their docket.

You answered happily though, “Hey.”

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Far better than the last time you saw me. I can guarantee that. But I still don’t look my best.”

“That’s perfectly okay, Y/N. Understandable that you aren’t completely healed up yet,” Steve said. “But, we were hoping you would be up to a small trip.”

“O-oh,” you stammered. “I, uh, I mean should I? I don’t know if I should be getting rough.”

Steve laughed at that and assured you, “I can be gentle if that’s what you’re worried about. But, really. It’s actually important that you come with.”

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating. “I actually haven’t left the brothel since… you know.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Mhm, well, it’s secluded. It’s my beach house. Don’t gotta worry about anyone but us and some guards. And we can pick you up directly from your place.”

A beach house? God, that did sound nice. You cleared your throat, trying to joke, “Wives? I don’t need my nose broken again.”

“No. They are going on a small trip themselves separately. We are going on a crabbing trip as far as they know.”

“But what are you really doing then? And why is it important that I come?”

Teasingly, Steve told you, “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Me and surprises really aren’t—”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve cut in. “You need to get out of that place. Get some fresh air. There’s a jet tub and a hot tub. You can stay in it as long as you want.” He added and you could hear the smirk in his tone, “As long as you let us get the look we want, that is. Stipulation.”

“Pervert,” you joked, smiling despite yourself.

“It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

Sighing, you weighed your thoughts. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked surprised. It was Tuesday.

“Yeah, we are ready to go and I’m assuming you don’t have any plans?”

“No.”

“Perfect. We will swing by to pick you up at 4.”

“In the afternoon I hope.”

Steve chuckled, “Yes, the afternoon, dove. So, be ready. You know how punctual Tony is.”

“Don’t want to start the trip off on a bad foot,” you agreed.

“Exactly.”

You blurted, “Hey… can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Carefully choosing your words, you asked, “Did you… were you able to find him?” Steve was silent on the other end of the line. You furrowed your brow and asked, “Steve? Are you still—"

“Yeah, I’m here. And yes,” Steve answered. “We sure did.”

“And…” you prodded, trailing off, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“We’ll come get you at 4pm tomorrow, dove. You should get your things packed,” he said, completely sidestepping your question. “I liked that blue one piece you bought when we were out that one time. The cut out one with great cleavage.”

“Okay, I’ll pack that one. How long are we staying?”

“A few days. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I gotta go though, dove.”

“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When you hung up, you stared down at your phone. Why hadn’t he answered your question? You turned around after a few moments, placing your phone down on your bed. You got onto the floor and reached to grab your travel suitcase out from underneath the bed.

<><><>

Coming down the stairs after you dropped your bag off in the master bedroom and taking a very long bath in the jet tub, you slowed your steps. You were taking in the view, looking out the windows that stretched at least ten feet at the first landing on the stairs. The water was lapping at the rocks outside, the sun just starting to set. It was calming.

“How was it?” Steve asked, coming into view.

“Amazing,” you told him, smiling. “You didn’t come up for your view though. How can I keep up my side of the bargain if you don’t meet me halfway?”

Steve smirked, “Cheeky. Still.”

You noticed he was still dressed nicely and you asked, “Do you want me to go change?” You had thrown on the suit he asked you to bring and a coverup over it.

“Absolutely not. You look fine.” Steve held his hand out for you and you took it. He was quiet, looking at you.

You got uncomfortable and asked, “What’s up?”

Steve looked over your shoulder and you followed his gaze seeing Tony walk in from outside. The two of them seemed to communicate without speaking and you repeated,

“What’s up?”

Steve’s attention was back on you and he asked, “So, you remember how you asked about Jared?”

“Um. Yes?”

“If you had the opportunity, would you want to see him before he died?” Your mouth fell open slightly, unable to find your voice, completely caught off guard. Steve stepped closer, and said, “I know how it feels to see someone who wronged you know they’re about to die.”

“He’s still alive?” you blurted.

“He’s here.”

You stammered, “E-excuse me? Here?” Your heart was beginning to pound.

“Don’t worry, he can’t get out,” Tony said quickly, holding up his hand to you. He saw you were threatening to unravel and he came closer. He explained gently, “And even if he could, he’s pretty dehydrated and he’s definitely starving, so he’s not going to be moving too fast anyway. Plus, you’ve got us here now and we won’t let anything happen to you?”

“What…” you said, trying to grasp what was going on.

Steve explained, “Found him a few days ago and kept him alive after we gave him a good beating. Wanted to give you the opportunity to watch it happen if you wanted to. You don’t have to. Just wanted you to have that chance.”

You were suspended in shock. You thought you were coming here to relax, get fucked a couple of times. And then just head back home. It dawned on you that second that this was the surprise that Steve must have been alluding to on the phone when you agreed to come here. Not the surprise you were expecting; not even in the realm of possibility.

Did you want that? Did you want to see him die? You swallowed sharply, flooded with the memories of all the times he had beat you, cheated on you. You hated to admit some part of you would like to actually watch him suffer. You could never do it yourself, not on your own. And now you had this golden opportunity to have it happen in a way that he would know it was because of you that it was happening.

“Y/N?”

You were taking a long time to answer.

“I…” you started to say, looking in between them. You exhaled slowly and admitted, “Yeah. Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Tony asked. You nodded and he nodded in return. “Good. I think you should. Give you some closure.”

That seemed a little sadistic but you let them led you towards the door. They walked you out onto the dock that was lit by small lamps. The sunset was beautiful on the water, the waves glowing with the colors. It was a stark contrast to what you were walking out here to do, such a dark deed. There were a few men standing at the end of the dock and you made to stay closer to Tony, keeping an eye on them as you approached.

When you came to a stop, your eyes circled around the group. You immediately got worried, thinking the worst.

Nervously, you asked, “Where is he?”

Tony pointed down at the dock and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “Guys gotta be freezing in this water.”

“O-oh.”

Tony walked over towards the side of the dock where you saw there was a ladder. He began climbing down it and Steve gave you a little nudge. You walked over to the edge hesitantly and looked over. There was another lower dock there, a speedboat next to it. That made sense, this dock was pretty high. They definitely were not going to kill you, you tried to reassure yourself.

You forced yourself to climb down after Tony, his hands coming up to steady you as you got within his reach. You settled down next to him as soon as you saw they were telling the truth.

Jared was tied up to one of the pillars holding up the dock, his body half submerged into the water. He looked absolutely awful, close to death. His face was swollen, bruised. They had not lied about the beating either.

He seemed to recognize you and his eyes narrowed. Something kicked up in him and he shouted against the gag, hate in his eyes. You could not tear your eyes away from him.

“I personally love the sight,” Tony said, standing close. He lit up his cigar and took a long drag, his eyes raking over Jared.

Steve had climbed down now and was standing close as well.

You were still in shock seeing Jared yell at you, struggle against the binding. Tony was right, the water must be freezing.

Something came over you.

“Fuck me,” you said, not taking your eyes off of him.

“Pardon?” Tony asked, choking on his smoke a bit.

“Fuck me,” you repeated. Tony was staring at you, his finger running across his lip. You shrugged and added, “I want another man fucking me where his stupid ass can see it. Right before he dies. I want that to be one of the last thing he remembers. He hated the thought of another man touching me.”

“Shit,” Steve breathed, laughing lightly.

Your adrenaline was rushing now. “That’s what I want. I don’t want to actually see him die. I don’t think I could handle that but… I want this.”

There were a few moments of silence and you finally tore your eyes away from Jared to look at the two of them standing behind you.

“I won’t say no to that,” Steve said finally, grinning devilishly. “I’ll do the honors.”

You stared into Jared’s eyes, knowing you would never have to look at him again after this. You would never have to worry about him ever again because of Steve and Tony.

<><><>

The lobster you were chewing was decadent, too good to exist. You were buzzed now, having to take a couple shots after Steve got done plowing you and then you walked away, without a care, knowing damn well that someone was going to be murdered behind you. The shots had hit quickly on your empty stomach and luckily dinner had been delivered shortly after you had taken the shots. The three of you were sitting at a table on their dock, the table lit by tall lamps.

“You said you were coming back from a job?” Steve asked, before taking a bite of his steak. You eyed him confused and he chewed, swallowing. “That night.”

Revisiting this again. You did not want to think about it anymore tonight but considering the favor they had done, you pushed your uncomfortableness aside and nodded. “Yeah. Some Wall Street guy. Definitely a frat boy who never had to work a real job in his life. He had every drug imaginable ready to just offer up. Obviously I did not partake.”

You picked up your champagne, taking a swig before taking another bite of your lobster.

“No more of that,” Tony said flatly.

Eyes narrowed, you asked, “Frat boys or Wall Street? Cause I really don’t always get to choose.” Another bite. It was so delicious. You had to ask what restaurant it was from.

“Nobody.”

You stopped chewing. Your eyes moved between the two of them, sitting there looking stoic. “What?”

They both exchanged a look and you felt your stomach starting to tighten. There was something wrong; something bad was about to happen.

Steve answered this time, “Nobody else. Nobody but us.”

You almost asked if they were joking but you remembered Tatiana’s words about owing them. And the looks on their faces told you they were in no way joking around. You placed your fork down, straightening up. They were watching you with an uneasy intensity, gauging your reaction.

Giving a light, nervous laugh, you told them, “Uh, I mean… I kind of have other regulars.”

“Why would you feel the need to continue with other regulars?”

“T-t-to keep my options open?”

“That’s… insulting,” Tony chuckled, his smile not reaching his eyes though, turning his head to stare off into the water.

You felt cold, a tightness in your stomach. Insulting him was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is this? What are we talking about?”

Steve shrugged, “I’m not sure what’s not clear about this, Y/N. You will work for us and us only. You get an actual apartment. Move out of the brothel. So it’s not as suspicious that we are visiting you. Then we will be able to visit you whenever we want and we won’t have to worry about an incident like this happening again. Or worry about you leaving.”

You could not believe what you were hearing. They could not be serious about this. To just upend your life to just be at their beck and call. And to prevent you from leaving if you wanted to? This situation was spiraling way too quickly.

“I don’t want to live by myself,” you argued.

“It won’t be some run-down building, Y/N,” Tony sighed, annoyance lacing his tone as he looked back at you. “You’ll have a doorman. And security.”

“So, you want me to just… depend on the two of you for income and for my housing? Nothing else?” you asked them, flabbergasted.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“What rational person wouldn’t be worried about that? I haven’t had the greatest track record with partners as you have seen yourself.”

Steve cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. You closed your mouth, knowing immediately you had said something out of pocket. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating about me. About us. Have we not been good to you?”

“I-I.. that’s not what I meant—”

“You think I’m going to hit you?” Steve asked harshly.

“No—” you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked irritated all to hell.

Tony held up his hand and Steve closed his mouth, still glowering at you across the table. You averted your gaze to Tony as he spoke.

“You’ll be perfectly fine wherever we set you down.”

Your voice was small, “I can’t even choose?”

“I would like somewhere in our jurisdiction for one. And then the doorman stipulation.” He saw you had shook your head ever so slightly, a reaction more than anything. Tony leaned across the table, staring directly into your eyes. It took everything in you to not look away and to not show fear. You felt like you were probably failing miserably at that. “I don’t think you understand fully what’s going on here, sweetheart, and that concerns me. You won’t have to trick anymore. No more uncertainty of who is taking you home. No more late-night walks. A steady income, your own place. Protection too furthermore; you’ll have at least one guard at all times. Why would you not want that?”

Logically. You would want this. You should want this. You begged them to screw you over your abusive ex hours ago. Practically egged them on to commit murder with acting the way you had. Everything he was saying was positive. But it was ignoring the fact that it sounded like you were going to be owned, your movements dictated by the two of them.

You licked your lips and offered weakly, “It’s not smart of me.”

“Why?”

“My line of business isn’t exactly about exclusivity.”

“Well, I guess you’re leaving that line of business then,” Tony said coolly.

There was not a choice here. You were being told.

You needed to get away from the table, away from their heated stares. You were swimming in anxiety. Standing up from the table abruptly, the chair squeaking, you took off. You did not know where to, you had nowhere to go. You just knew you wanted – needed – to be by yourself, to gather your thoughts.

By the sound of the heavy footfalls following you down the boardwalk, it did not seem you were going to be granted that. You broke into a run, knowing it was futile. There was no way you could outrun a super soldier. Steve caught you without any trouble whatsoever and pushed you up against the wall of the beach house.

“I don’t want to!” you exclaimed.

“It’s either here, secluded, under guard or in your new apartment under guard.”

Tears watered up in your eyes and you choked out, “You can’t do this.”

“I can’t do this?” Steve said, a flash of cruelty in his eyes and an amused smirk on his lips. He leaned in closer and said more quietly, “Dove, we run this city and you are a part of this city. Our favorite part actually and we are securing our favorite part for ourselves.” He stepped closer, glaring down his nose at you. You felt smothered against the wall by his imposing presence. “And that’s whether our favorite part likes it or not. Because we already own it because she owes us.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming, @oceaniamaddness, @multifandom-superlover, @imsonick, @holl2712

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!tony stark #dark!steve rogers #dark marvel fic #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #my shit

156 notes · View notes

stvrlyte · 2 years ago

Text

mobile rules

- General RP rules apply, no godmodding or toe stepping, lets just have fun, yeah? Mun is 21+ and blog is 18+. Open, but lightly selective, not mutual exclusive, and OC and fandom friendly! Female muses are welcome as well, everyone is, I don’t mind at all! Multi-verse, multi-ship.

- I am low, sporadic activity for the simple fact that I work evenings in retail. Which also means I tend to be on mobile as well, but I’m still usually around to chat! I have a discord as well for mutuals who want to plot (I do NOT rp on discord, sorry!)

- I don’t do reblog karma, but lightly encourage you instead. I’m not going to come for you for anything, we’re adults here with our own focuses, I just want to have some fun here

- I do not write smut. It’s just not my cup of tea, I prefer the fade to black or insinuating.

- I don’t have any triggers but I will be happy to tag anything if anyone needs me to. I tag triggers as “content tw”

- In general, I’m pretty laid back, so if you wanna vibe with me, let's vibe. I don’t post hate or drama, you can take that outside, and I don’t have any issue with problematic content. Write what you wanna write! Be cool and we’ll have a good time.

- I only use faceless icons since the majority of my faceclaims have little to no resources. Credit for my gifs are here: xx , xx , xx , xx , xx , xx , xx , xx , xx FC gifs for Marius provided by my bae @wynterlanding

- I also don’t have any banned faceclaims per se, however I do have a list of FCs that I and close friends use that I am not as inclined to write against. They are (BOLD are hard nos):

Hozier

Emma Stone

David Mazouz

Adam Brody

Eric Dane

Troy Baker and Ryan Gosling

Ben Wiggins

Jodelle Ferland

Charlotte Ritchie

Donnie Yen

Parker Sawyers

Bradley James

Emmett J. Scanlan

Halle Bailey

Nitin Chauhan

Kayla Itsines

Phil Brooks “CM Punk”

Other’s FCs:

Penn Badgley

Ryan Destiny

Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Manny Montana (unless it’s a canon character)

Eiza Gonzalez

Bryan Dechart

list of other blogs(where I could be if I’m not here):

@itsagraywcrld (original character)

@dvrklyte (canon multimuse)

@godccmplex (original character)

@sclcmcn (original character)

#mobile rules

3 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

permanent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: just in case you missed it, i published a family tree for the hotchners! at this point, jack is married to bella and living in d.c. she’s a journalist for the washington division at the new york times and is generally pretty awesome. as always, lemme know what you think!

words: 3.1k warnings: language, hospital setting, canon-typical injury

summary: “write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble” - benjamin franklin. au!december 2035

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Come on, Soph! Go, baby, go!”

Your daughter is a vision. She streaks across the field, her green and yellow uniform almost melding with the grass as she keeps control of the ball. You can’t see her face too clearly, but you know she’s scanning the field with the same intensity you see in Aaron’s face beside you.

Isaac plops down on the bench behind you, home from Los Angeles for winter break. “How’s she doing?”

Aaron half-turns his head, keeping his eyes on the field. “Going for a hat trick - if she makes it, it’ll be her third this season.”

“Excellent.”

Caroline, down the field with her choir group, lounges happily between the legs of one of her friends, eating popcorn. When she sees you looking, she waves at you.

You wave back for a moment before your attention’s caught by a collective gasp and Aaron’s hand shoots to your forearm. You turn back to the field, but you missed it.

Everyone’s moving and you don’t know why.

With shocking agility for his age, Aaron all but leaps down the bleachers and onto the field. Your eyes search for Soph, but there are too many people on the field, all of a sudden.

Caroline’s standing on the seat of the bleachers, her friends steadying her with their hands on her arms and ankles.

There’s a hand, soft and scared on your shoulder. “Mom?”

You open your arms, and your nearly-grown son ducks under it, curling into you as you stand. “Do you want your earbuds?”

You feel him nod and you pull them out of your bag. His trembling quiets a little after he fits them in his ears.

There’s a clamber, and Caroline appears at your side. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching.”

She exhales, shaky and worried. “Where’s Dad?”

“On the field.”

But where?

You find Aaron, his salt-and-pepper hair stark in the autumn light. He’s talking to the referee, his brows low.

You hear sirens.

+++

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Mom?”

You almost hate to ruin his mood.

“Jack, honey, can you get down to the house at any point tonight?”

You try not to grip the handle above the car door too tightly as Aaron races through the suburban streets, following the ambulance. Soph was definitely lucid when they loaded her up, but definitely in a lot of pain.

“Ye - Yeah...Why?”

“Soph’s headed to the ER - something happened on the soccer pitch today and her knee…” You shake your head. “I dunno. Her knee looks really bad.”

“Fuck. Okay.” You hear him shuffle around and click his mouse - checking his schedule. “I can get down there after my last meeting at four - I’m headed there in a few minutes, but won’t be able to swing any earlier. I’d cancel it, but it’s literally SecDef and the Joint Chiefs and -”

“That’s fine - I just need someone at the house with the kids until one of us can get back. Elliot’s at baseball practice until six and I’m not sure if -”

“I’ll be there. I’ll get El and then I’ll swing by for Isaac and Caro if they’re still with y’all down there.”

You glance over at Aaron and nod. He heaves a sigh of relief and mouths Thank you.

“Thanks, Jack.”

“Yeah. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

+++

When you’re finally allowed in to see Sophia, her eyes are red and puffy with tears. Her right leg is braced and elevated at the knee.

Her doctor explains the situation - dislocated knee and splintered patella with a torn meniscus and ACL. “This kind of traumatic knee injury poses a couple of issues…”

He explains that the rehabilitation and surgery needs for both the ACL and meniscus are exceedingly different, and “It’s entirely possible Miss Sophia will experience permanent joint damage. However, we won’t know that until we have an orthopaedic surgeon look at it tomorrow.”

“What about sports? Can I still play?” Soph tries to sit up farther, but Aaron’s arm shoots out, locking her against the bed across her shoulders.

The doctor looks hesitant, and it’s all she needs to burst into tears again. Aaron moves, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms. He looks over her head at you and your lower lip disappears into your mouth as you meet his gaze.

You shift your attention to your other children sitting patiently behind you.

Caroline’s practically bit her nails to the quick - her hands looking more and more like her Aunt Emily’s as the moments pass.

Isaac’s been sitting in the wide windowsill for the entire afternoon, his headphones on, staring out the window, his mouth tight and fingers tearing into the foam stress ball you keep in your purse.

We’ll need another one of those. Or five.

You get a phone call, and you step out. “Hey, Jack.”

“Hey. Just got Elliot. We’re headed over to the hospital now. How’s she doing?”

You sigh and press a hand to your forehead.

“Oh, shit. That bad?” He asks.

You don’t comment on his tell pickup. It’s in his blood, at this point. “Yeah. She’s definitely out for the rest of the season, and we’re looking at some long-term stuff, too.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey! I’m still here and she’s gonna kick your ass if you keep swearing in front of me, dude.” Elliot shouts from the back and it almost makes you smile.

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you, Jack. We’ve got a dislocated and splintered patella in addition to a torn meniscus and ACL. It’s going to be a long rehab.”

You hear a deep sigh into the bluetooth system in Jack’s car. “Well, I’ll stay here for the duration.”

“No, no honey it’s alright. Your dad is home full-time and you’ve got a huge project reaching critical stages. Your room is all ready for you, but you really don’t have to hang around if you can’t manage the drive every day. And Bella -”

“Bells is looped in. She’s fine. She’s more than happy to tag out if we need to. Her deadlines are really loose right now what with the whole ‘nothing going on in Arlington’ thing this week. She’s heartbroken for Soph and wants to help where she can.”

“Alright.”

“Hey,” He huffs, sounding a lot like his dad. “I’ll let you go. I’ll text when I’m outside.”

“Okay. Thanks, bud.”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Anytime.”

+++

Sophia’s sleeping when Alice and Hank come to visit later in the evening. Aaron went home a couple hours after Jack, planning to tag out with you later so you could get some sleep in your own bed before work tomorrow.

Alice immediately embraces you, all but falling into your lap as you hold her. She’s shaking.

“Is she okay?”

You push her back, smoothing some wayward edges at her hairline. “She will be.”

Alice’s dark eyes fill with tears, and you brush them off her cheeks as they fall.

“She’ll need your help, though. It’s gonna be a long time before we figure out what’s permanent and what’s not.”

Alice nods and retreats, sitting in the plastic chair by Soph’s side, folding her arms on the mattress and laying her head on them. “Hey, Sofa,” she whispers, though Soph can’t hear her.

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” you tell her. Sofa is a nickname Derek gave Sophia when she was little. No big meaning to it, but it stuck.

You wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed there all night.

Hank lingers by the door. In the shadow of the room, you could easily mistake him for Derek, but that concerned pull at the corners of his eyes screams Savannah.

Eventually, he crosses the room and sits on the little lounger beside you.

He takes your hand and you kiss his knuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted to spend your winter break, huh?”

A little laugh leaves him. “Maybe not, but little Miss Thing over here dragged me out the door before I could get two words in edgewise.” He gestures vaguely toward Alice and you actually smile.

“Yeah. In my experience, Morgan women don’t fuck around.”

“You got that right,” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Savannah, fresh off her shift and still in her white coat and scrubs. She scours over Sophia’s charts and checks on her before sitting on your other side.

“Do you want the bad news or the good-but-also-kind-of-bad news?” She asks, almost inaudible. You glance up at Soph but Savannah shakes her head. “She’s out - those pain meds will leave this entire visit a blur.”

You sigh. “Fine. Hit me with the bad shit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Savannah rests her elbows on her knees. “I’ve seen a knee injury like this exactly once before. No matter what you do, they can’t and don’t always heal right. She could need a mobility device permanently, even after she’s healed, and I can tell you now she won’t play again.”

That’s okay. She’s okay.

Better soccer goes than her life.

Soccer is her life.

You only know that Alice can hear everything when her shoulders start to shake. She doesn’t make any noise as she cries. She’s like her dad that way. Hank stands and places a hand between her shoulder blades, but says nothing.

“Is that the worst of it?”

Savannah nods. “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “The kinda good news is that she’ll be totally fine no matter what obstacles she may run into. She’s tough. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hotchner.”

She snorts. “Hell, I watched you bounce back from crazy life-threatening shit with a quip and a grin.”

You raise your eyebrows and shrug. “I do what I can.”

+++

Caroline curls into her father’s side, her double bed big enough to manage the both of them. It feels a lot like when she was little - she’d have nightmares or couldn’t fall asleep and Aaron would come and sit with her until her breath was even and slow.

“Dad?”

“Mhmm?”

“What’s Soph gonna do about college?” Caroline’s voice is small, nearly smothered in Aaron’s shirt. “She already has scouting offers and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure. We’ll all have to figure it out together, won’t we?”

+++

Aaron steps into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him. Alice, just as you predicted, snoozes next to Sophia, her head pillowed on her arms. Sophia’s upper body almost arcs around her and she managed to snag one of Alice’s hands in her adjustment.

Those two…

Maybe he won’t escape the inevitable after all.

Morgan-Hotchner? Hotchner-Morgan?

He really only ever prepared to lose his name with Caroline. Soph always seemed far too… herself to take on a new one.

We’ll see.

You’re asleep in the pull-out chair, your brow drawn and arms crossed over your chest. He approaches you as quietly as he can, putting his go bag down and sitting beside you.

Much to his chagrin, you startle awake.

“Sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” Talking through your yawn, you add, “Just had a weird dream is all.”

Aaron pulls you close and you relent, tucking into his side with a hand pressed to his chest.

“Did Savannah come by?” He asks.

You nod.

“What did she say?”

You sniff a little, more from the antiseptic smell than any emotional response - that will come later. “Soph won’t be able to play again unless fuckin’ divine intervention or some shit comes along and fixes her knee from scratch, but she’ll be able to move around just fine with a cane or brace or something after a while.”

Aaron can only imagine it now - fits and righteous anger about getting around the house, watching games from the bench - the list could go on forever. “She’ll hate that.”

You hum in agreement. “Just another parenting challenge. Already have the rest of the gamut covered neurodevelopmentally, so we were bound to get a physical challenge at some point.”

“Never more than we can handle.”

Shaking your head, you note, “This one just might do us in.”

+++

“I swear to God, if I see you in the office at all this week I’m gonna smash your kneecaps in.” Emily pauses. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You laugh a little and Soph sits up, her brow asking a question.

You answer, pulling the phone away from your mouth. “Your Aunt Emily told me she’d smash my kneecaps if she saw me at the federal building this week.”

Soph snorts. “Nice. We could match.”

You reach over and tweak her nose. “We already match.”

“Hey.” Emily grabs your attention again and you put your cell back to your ear. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be here. Stay home for Soph right now and I’ll sign off on it and turn everything in for you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you turned into Rossi, Miss I’m Past Retirement Age But Twisted the Bureaus Arm to Let Me Work Myself to Death.”

She laughs and hangs up, leaving you and Sophia alone again in the hospital room. She tucks back into her Jello, taking bites that are way too big.

“How are you feeling, bug?” You brush her cheekbone with your thumb and she shrugs.

“Can you hand me my headband?”

You reach over and dig around in her back until you find the wide swatch of colorful fabric. She takes it from you and shoves it over her head, pushing her hair back with practiced ease.

She’s just like her dad.

What? Loyal?

Yeah. But also chronically avoidant.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She huffs, playing with her fingers. “I’m fine. I think.” Her breath is shaky. “I can’t really tell with all the meds I’m on, but it feels… really bad.”

When she looks over at you again, her eyes are glassy, tearful. “I know I can’t play again, maybe not even run.”

You reach out for her hand, but don’t say anything.

“Momma…” She pauses, looking down at her blanket. “Momma, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I feel like I only know how to play soccer. I don’t know how - I don’t know if I want to do anything else. I’ve never thought about it before.”

You run your thumb over her knuckles. “Soph, you can do so much. You have a great strategic mind - you think in these big, creative webs. It’s such an asset.”

“Don’t profile me.”

“I’m not profiling you, baby,” you tell her with a smile. “I just know that about you because you’re my daughter.”

Her mouth twists. “Right.” She looks down when her phone buzzes.

“Who is it?”

The corners of her lips tip up. “It’s Alice. She’s asking me if I want anything from the drive thru.”

You mirror her little smile. “That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

+++

“Alright so you have twenty nuggets, large fries,” Alice digs around in the bag, taking things out as she speaks. “And… a vanilla milkshake.”

“God, I love you.” Sophia wraps her hand around Alice's head and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Alice laughs, deep from her chest. “Shit, Soph, if all I have to do to secure your love is get you crap chicken, sign me up.”

“You could get damn close.”

Aaron watches the girls sit beside each other in the bed, taking turns dipping their nuggets in the sauce. They’ve always been this way, exchanging barbs and affection in equal measure. Symbiotic in the extreme, one is never far from the other.

You’re home, getting everyone else in bed and settled for the evening. Isabella drove in a night early - Jack’s headed back to D.C. apartment for a series of days-long meetings at the Pentagon regarding his latest project.

Aaron’s excited to see her. It’s been a helluva thing to see his son married, even more surreal to know and love his son’s wife like his own daughters.

His phone rings.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, Bella.”

Sophia looks over at the mention of her sister-in-law, and Alice looks beside herself with delight. As well as being a hit among the parents, Bella’s a winner with the kids, too.

Some days, Caroline likes her more than she likes Jack.

“Hey, Pops. Want to tag out?”

“Sure. I’ll switch with you. How long do you want to be here?”

He can almost hear her shrug. “Eh. I’ll spend the night. My column isn’t due until the end of the week and I’ve got it covered. Don’t need to work, don’t really need to sleep. Win-win.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. I’ll be there in twenty.”

She hangs up before Aaron can respond, so he just pockets his phone and takes the loss. Sophia, after taking a sip of her milkshake, asks. “Is Bella here all night?”

“Yeah, bug. She’ll be here.”

Soph and Alice share a look.

+++

“Well, Bella has more patience than I do,” Aaron says, dropping his go bag at the bedroom door. “She’s stuck with H&M for the rest of the night at the hospital.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad the girls have company, and fun company, at that.”

“Fair enough.”

The two of you quiet for a moment, and you tuck further under his arm, placing your hand over his heart.

“Aaron?”

His hand traces up and down your back, slow and steady. “Yeah?”

“What can we do for her? She sounded so… defeated today.”

And it’s true. You’ve never seen Soph like that, even at her lowest. If you were honest, it scared you a little.

“We can be her parents. That’s all. And she’ll figure something out. If she needs to take a gap year, she’ll manage. She and Alice can search for programs together.” He sighs before he continues, leaning back to look at you.

“All we can do is ask her what she needs and support her as best we can.”

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

231 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 5 years ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Miracle Baby

Request: “Can you do an imagine where the reader has a hard time getting pregnant with Luke, but then they succeed??”

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords , @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1, @pinkdiamond1016

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: emetophobia tw

It’s amazing how one small sign on a stick can make your entire heart break in two. But sure enough, as the negative sign appears on the surface of the pregnancy test, you can’t help but let out a frustrated sob. At one point, you find yourself gripping the plastic tightly in your fist before throwing it across the bathroom, it clatters against the wall before falling to the floor.

You’d grown accustomed to negative pregnancy tests, it really shouldn’t be that catastrophic, but this time was different. This time you broke.

You and Luke had been trying so hard after all. The prenatal vitamins, the fertility drugs, all for nothing. You were empty. Barren.

Somewhere amidst your racing thoughts, Luke had heard your crying from the hall. He knocks softly before entering, his eyes widen at the image of you curled up on the floor.

“Baby-“ he whispers as he approaches you cautiously.

You rest your elbow on your scrunched up knees and let your face fall to your hands. You’re shaking your head, an indication that you couldn’t speak at the moment. You couldn’t find the words to tell him. Not again.

But he sits on the floor behind you and all but drags your body so your back is against his chest. His touch fills you with emotions and you cry harder. Luke wraps his arms around you, winding around your body and holding you tightly. Something tells you that he knows why you’re broken on the floor. And it hurts.

“I want a baby,” you plead softly.

“We’ll try again,” he whispers into your hair. “It’s okay, we’ll try again.”

He’s the voice of reason. The practical, yet optimistic mindset that you severely lack. You want to protest, to argue and yell and fight him on it. What was the point of trying again? What was the point of trying at all? But instead you let your head fall back against his chest and you nod, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. You held on, because what other choice did you have? Baby or no baby, it was still you and Luke.

You spent the majority of the week sulking. It was futile and you knew it, but you needed time to grieve. You’d move on. Just not yet.

Luke gave you an appropriate amount of space. He realized that you needed time to process. He understood.

It was Saturday morning when Luke comes barreling into the bedroom with a tray full of food. You stir away and sit up in bed, wiping your sleepy eyes before taking it all in. He’s balancing orange juice and pancakes with assorted fruits. He’s staring down at the food with his tongue sticking out of his mouth, like he’s concentrating too hard to keep it on the tray.

“What is this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I made breakfast,” he says proudly, only stopping to look at you once the tray is sitting solidly on the bed.

“I can see that, but why? What’s the occasion?” You’re smiling widely gazing at the delicious meal he prepared for you.

“Anything to show you how much I love you, and how much I care.”

Your smile gets marginally bigger and you look up at Luke fondly, your heart bursting with love and affection.

“Are you gonna eat with me then?” you ask smugly, scooting your body up closer to the tray of food.

Luke’s face breaks into a huge grin and he runs over to his side of the bed like a small child, climbing in and scooting up next to you.

“Thank you for doing this,” you say once the tray is practically empty. You and Luke always could put away some serious food.

You close the short distance between the two of you and press your lips to his. He tastes sweet, like maple syrup. When you pull away, you’re surprised to see Luke’s smile fading.

“What is it?”

“I just hate to see you hurting,” he says somberly, “I know you’re hurting. I know you want a baby, and it kills me that I can’t give that to you.”

“Luke—“ you try to interject.

“No, just listen… It does, it kills me that I can’t give you want you want. But I want you to know I love you. With everything inside of me, I love you. And if you want to try again, that’s okay. But if you don’t, that’s fine too. Either way, I’m always going to be here.”

You would have teared up. In fact, you would have most certainly burst into tears if not for the fact that your stomach was all of a sudden extremely nauseous. You flung yourself out of bed, barely cautious of the dishes at the end of the sheets and bolted towards the bathroom.

You cringe as the contents of Luke’s delicious breakfast empty into the toilet. He’s right behind you, rubbing your back and holding your hair. You try to wave him away, you don’t want him to see you like this.

“Shh—“ Luke coos as you retch and heave into the bowl.

When you’re finally done, you let yourself fall back against the tub and breathe for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Luke is asking frantically. He’s worried for you.

But you just breathe deeply before looking up to him, “You poisoned me,” you say laughing.

Luke looks relieved that you’re alright, but still concerned about your sweating forehead and sudden sickness.

You insist that it’s just a bug and refuse to let Luke fret over you. Instead, you spend the rest of the day relaxing and watching movies.

You throw up the next morning.

And again the morning after that.

You finally go into the doctors and you’re shaking the whole way there.

You don’t know what to expect, but you tell the doctor your symptoms. He nods and draws blood before exiting and letting the lab examine the results.

It feels like forever before he’s reentering the room, but when he does, he has a smug look on his face.

“Well?” you urge.

“Congratulations,” the doctor says, folding his arms. “You’re pregnant. You finally got your miracle baby.”

You and Luke were on top of the world. For the first time in so long, everything in your life felt good and you loved the little baby growing inside of you so much.

After only two weeks of knowing, you and Luke start talking about names.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy or girl,” you giggle as Luke starts rattling off baby names. You were both laying on the floor of the living room, the blankets and pillows pulled down with you like some sort of fort.

“We’ll prep for both then!” he says, leaning his head on your shoulder.

You squeeze your eyes shut, smiling so widely before nodding. “Yeah, okay. Let’s prep for both.”

Luke started coming home with baby stuff. First it was clothes. Unisex. Then a crib. Then some toys. You pretended to be annoyed. You’d roll your eyes and laugh at him for being so excited. But inside, you were bursting with happiness. As if you needed more evidence that Luke was going to be the best dad in the world.

He started adding it to the room you’d dedicated to your future child. The walls were painted a pleasant green color. Luke set up the crib, arranged the stuffed animals in just the right way. You even found him setting up a mobile above the baby’s crib one night before bed.

He’s on a small step ladder. You can see the skin of his hips and back as he reaches above his head. You stand in the doorway and watch him maneuver the screw driver. Once he’s finally content, he steps down. You smile and walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?” you ask into his t-shirt.

He rotates so that he’s facing you and bends down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No, but my ears are open,” he says.

“I love you,” you say between pecks. “More than anything.”

He smiles warmly back at you, “We’re gonna be a family,” he says, placing his hand on the base of your stomach. You get butterflies, and you’re not sure if it’s from his touch or his words. Either way, your heart feels like it might explode.

#luke alvez x reader #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez request #luke alvez fluff #luke alvez x reader fluff #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fic #emetophobia warning #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader fic

462 notes · View notes

parjiljehavey · 4 years ago

Text

this isn’t where we intended to be

A/N: Because we don’t know the details of how Boba survived the Sarlacc, I hand waved it. Am I shamelessly blending Legends into this? Yep. Don’t stop me now, I’m having a good time!

I also forgot to mentioned that the titles are lyrics from You Must Love Me. Madonna or Lana Del Rey, both are valid and full of feels.

Tagging: @escapedthesarlacc, @silverfish-kingdom, @shadowfoxey, @fresa-luna

Rating: T for Teen

Content Warnings: Angst, Bad Spy/Military jargon and descriptions, Boba Is Pining, We got some Surprise Appearances at the end.

PREVIOUS // NEXT

ix.

The first thing the Imperials did after setting up their garrison was confiscate any weapons. They searched house by house, apartment by apartment. The only things they didn’t take were the kitchen knives. You were lucky enough that the panic room Boba built was hidden from almost every scanner imaginable, leaving the armory Boba had on this world unseized.

Jekiah had chosen then to wail his little heart out from the bedroom, announcing his anger that his noon meal was being delayed to all who could hear. It took everything in you to not laugh when the stormtroopers and the scrawny little officer with them flinched.

There was a diner around the corner from the apartment that you had started frequenting because you had became obsessed with their milkshakes during your pregnancy. The twi’lek that owned it was an older woman with long lekku she draped around her neck who carried herself in a way that you recognized.

It was Sinya’s diner that the locals gathered in afterhours to discuss the Imperial occupation a month after the weapons has been taken. The blinds were shut, casting the room in near darkness except for the dim green glow of the menu signs.

Jekiah was strapped to your chest, content to sleep against your breast while voices rose when someone in the diner proposed fighting back against the Empire. A raucous arose as all attending agreed.

Sinya spoke up, “We’ll need to run reconnaissance to get a better idea of their numbers and the heat they’re packing.”

You should have kept your mouth shut and your head down, if only for Jekiah’s sake. It’s what Boba would have wanted you to do; with few exceptions, when did you ever do what Boba wanted?

“I can take care of that.” Heads turned and the crowd parted to stare at you, a woman with her baby. Sinya looked at you, and you looked at her. A tattooed brow was raised.

“You sure?” She gestured to Jekiah.

You looked down at your son, rubbing your thumb over his dark downy hair. He nestled his face further against your breast, seeking out your heartbeat.

“Yes. I am.”

He had woken up with the gritty taste of sand in his mouth, his skin burning and itching, and his armor missing. Shab’la Jawas.

It was the Sand People, who had ultimately rescued him and tended to the wounds he’d gained from the Sarlacc. He wasn’t able to translate what they were saying without his buy’ce, but he was able to communicate enough with them with the sign language that any hunter worth their spit learned when they spent enough time chasing targets through the sands of Tatooine.

He was given clothing and weapons once he was well enough to leave, and went on his way to begin the long trek back to Jabba’s palace. He had no doubt that anything that wasn’t nailed down had already been taken after news of the Hutt’s death had spread. Boba was confident that the Slave I was still where he had left it when he arrived.

Sure enough, the Firespray-31 was still there. Usually, he’d lower the ramp through his HUD, however, lacking his armor, Boba had to use the security code. It hadn’t changed in decades; he had it memorized. Accessing the security logs, Boba cursed.

It’d been five months since he left you heavily pregnant in his safehouse.

Fierfek.

xi.

A week after the meeting, you left Jekiah with your neighbor, two older women who had cooed over Jekiah ever since you’d come back from the medical center. Jekiah had learned how to cling to your shirt and had refused to let go, right up until a brightly colored nexu plush entered his field of vision. He’d been entranced with the neon pink toy and had let go easily after that.

The Zabrak grinned, “One of our nephew’s old toys. He won’t miss it.”

Returning to the apartment, you opened the panic room. Weapons lined the wall, far out of reach of a child and a case held your gear. The armorweave long coat and pants you had once worn regularly were a little too tight across your belly and hips, but thankfully, you still had mobility. You could handle this small discomfort; it was nothing compared to the later stages of your pregnancy and Jekiah’s birth.

You attached the stealth generator to your belt, making double sure it’d stay there with tape. Next went on your boots, and then your visor, followed by your gloves and gauntlets.

The gloves had been a gift from Boba; “They’d been outlawed in the Mandalore system for centuries,” he had said, “but I figured you’d appreciate these in your arsenal.”

Another gift had been the heavy, matte black gauntlets. The wristblade had utterly delighted you. You’d asked Boba what they were made of that made them so heavy. His answer had been beskar. It had taken you some time to learn how to fight with them on, something Boba had helped you with. You had ended up with more bruises than he had, some more pleasurable than others.

An ache in your chest came up and a lump formed in your throat. You swallowed around it and pushed on. You had a job to do.

You ran a systems’ check twice, ensuring that your vitals read correctly and the targeting system was accurately linked to your rifle. Happy with the results, you activated the stealth generator, and made your way out of the apartment building entirely. You kept to the shadows of alleyways and near cover.

Following a returning patrol, you infiltrated the Imperial garrison.

xii.

He’d elected to shave off the rest of his hair; most of it was already gone, the Sarlacc’s digestive acid killed the hair follicles. He inspected his wounds; no matter how primitive the Tuskens may be, they’d done a good job at patching him up. The wounds that were still healing he covered with a bacta-patch.

It had been a difficult decision, but, Boba had chosen to pursue his missing armor. He knew you’d understand why he didn’t immediately return; it was his father’s armor. You’d be furious with him, more than likely banish him from bed, but you’d understand.

It didn’t stop the guilt gnawing at his gut.

It didn’t stop him from waking up expecting to feel his arm asleep from you laying on it to curl against his chest or feel your cold feet pressed against his legs.

xiii.

Over the next two weeks, you infiltrated the garrison several more times gathering information on troop movements and supply routes. There was more than one garrison on the planet; as soon as news spread to the others, they’d be swarming like flies on a carcass. This was going to be a hard and dirty fight.

You said as much at the next meeting in Sinya’s.

“If we are going to do this, we're going to need more numbers than what we have.”

A large Nikto stepped forward. “Mercenaries? Lady, we ain’t got the money for that!”

Sinya was watching you from behind the counter. She nodded at you.

“Let me worry about the money. As soon as the mercenaries are planetside, start bringing the people from smaller towns and the farms inside.”

xiv.

Finding Sandcrawlers was easier from the air; it’d take months to traverse Tatooine on foot. He stopped in Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and Anchorhead intermittently as he needed supplies and fuel. He picked up scrap metals to barter with the Jawas for information. This routine continued until a priority alert came across.

Liberation from Imperial Garrison. Boba’s stomach sunk.

There was no thinking as he plotted a course back to the planet. No other thought as the Slave I gained altitude.

Just you.

xv.

Sinya had had her pegged as a hunter as soon as she had first walked in months ago. She always looked around, noting exits and entries. Standard merc behavior, Sinya remembers doing that before she retired; Goddess, she still did it.

The bump on her belly made Sinya decide she wasn’t a threat. The delight she took in the milkshakes was endearing. Sinya had made sure that every time she saw her on the way in, a milkshake was already being blended. Especially when she started coming in with her baby boy strapped to her chest. That baby was the grumpiest little thing Sinya had ever seen.

It was nice, Sinya decided, once everyone had left after the woman had reported back on her findings and it was decided that they did need mercenaries, to talk shop with someone who knew their stuff. Sinya missed the merc life somedays.

Sinya listed off every large mercenary company that she knew was still in existence. Even Black Sun.

“No,” She shook her head. “If the Imperials offer more, they’d switch sides. Even if they didn’t, it’d be another battle to get them off. We’d be trading one for the other. That’s a risk we can’t afford. We need people who hate the Imperials just as much, if not more then we do.”

Sinya's tattooed brows furrowed. “Who are you thinking of?”

The woman smiled.

bonus

xvi.

He heard a low whistle from somewhere in the Oyu’baat when a priority alert popped up on the bounty board. The bartender fiddled with a control panel, enlarging the alert so it overtook other listings. It got Shysa’s attention, the Mand’alor dropping his feet off his table as he stood up. Noise died down until the only sound was the boloball game.

100,000 credits for every Mandalorian that signed up for the liberation of a small world out in the Outer Rim from the Empire. A 10,000 credit bonus was being offered for every piece of artillery that was brought in. Payment would be given from stocks, proprieties, or cold hard cash, per the contractor’s preference.

Osik. That was a lot of credits for a small world to be offering. He wondered where they were getting that kind of money. And it was specifically requesting Mandalorians.

Shysa clapped his hands together, drawing attention away from the board and to himself. He climbed up on top of his table looking out over the crowd of Mando’ade.

“Well, vode. Who wants to go kick the Imperials shebs again?”

Cheers of Oya rang out and Mird’ika howled as he pulled on his fine, gray gloves.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x y/n #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #should i should the surprise?#SHOULD I #yeah i will #jaing skirata #fenn shysa #lord mirdalan #mird #mird'ika #republic commando #series: you must love me

123 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.9 (BAON)

Summary: The final chapter! Let's hope it lives up to the story name, shall we?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry Stretch for long. They were barely down the hallway to the stairs when warning twinges started up in his leg, and he could only ignore it for so long before he setback his own recovery. He resented that lingering weakness, hated that someone had stolen, albeit temporarily, his ability to physically take his willing husband to wherever he wished to put him. Hated that Stretch no longer flung himself at Edge from their front porch, trusting that he would be caught.

A return to that would come, he reminded himself. For now, he simply had to get Stretch to the car. He wasn’t about to let him walk downstairs with the delicate bones of his feet exposed to the floor of that filthy, junk-strewn warehouse anymore than they already had and perhaps Stretch realized that as well. His protests were brief and faded quickly.

“babe, no, your leg!” Stretch made a weak attempt at squirming loose, “i can walk!”

“You are in your bare feet,” Edge said shortly, “there is angel knows what foulness on this floor, and I am not letting you go.”

“guess i can’t argue that," Stretch sighed. "okay, captain. make it quick.”

“You’ve never said that before,” Edge murmured and Stretch let out a startled laugh that was always lovely to hear, but especially tonight. He really was all right if he could laugh like that, deep and sweet and loud.

So, Edge carried on down the stairs, past the melting remains of some kind of chemical foam, and Stretch didn’t struggle, a wise choice considering it would probably have sent them both tumbling down. He simply sighed and wrapped his slim arms around Edge’s neck, his skull resting lightly against his shoulder.

He was exhausted, Edge realized belatedly, already mentally berating himself. Of course he was, it was past the point of being late and going more into early, and the only sleep Stretch had had tonight was deliberately induced unconsciousness.

Better not to think about that. Seeing Stretch awake and hearing his laughter already relieved some of the raw, achy heat in his soul, there was no point in agitating it again. Surreptitiously, Edge ducked his head enough to breathed in the sweet scent of his husband’s magic, letting it further ease the dimming clamor of his LV demanding retribution. Much as he hated admitting when his brother was right, it would be best to let the Embassy security teams handle the kidnappers. Not that Edge wouldn’t be intently watching the results, but Edge knew himself well enough that he couldn’t promise not to react with violence if he saw any of them in person.

They’d stolen from him. Not a possession, no, love was not something to be owned, but it could be given, along with his soul, and Edge had given his to the very person they’d tried to use as a mere tool to be bartered with and after, they would have surely discarded him as nothing more than a useless object, a means to an end.

There was only one punishment suitable for that and Edge did not trust himself not to mete it out.

Outside, the night air was cool, refreshing after the dusty warehouse, and there was a new vehicle amidst the Embassy cars. An ambulance, the lights swirling silently atop, and the back doors were open with a stretcher already on the pavement. When the attendants saw them, they started forward, and in his arms, Stretch tensed, shifting as if to crawl up and over him in a wild attempt at escape.

“no,” Stretch said shortly. “no, no, no, don’t let the damsel in distress pose fool you, i am fine. all i need is a stiff drink and some zzz’s, this is me not consenting to any medical treatment.”

“Love—” Edge began. Stretch swung around to look at him, the pale glare of his eye lights accusing, and he backtracked, choosing his words carefully, “You were drugged. Perhaps it would be best if you were checked out.”

That suggestion was met with fierce scorn as Stretch scoffed, "yeah, i was drugged and now i am wide awake. i can tell you my name, my address, and my shoe size, and whoever tries to get me into the back of that wah-wah-mobile is gonna know it, too, when i shove my foot up their ass.”

“kinky.” Edge whirled to see his brother’s smirking face as he strolled towards them. “wellie, well, well, went fishin’ and got a hellava catch, eh, boss?”

In his arms, Stretch stiffened so briefly, he might have imagined it. He blinked rapidly, once, twice, as if to clear his vision, then relaxed again, settling on a wheedle in Red’s direction, “fishing jokes are so cliché, cooking is better. i’m the best cupcake in the bakery, so let him wrap me up and take me home. come on, tell them i’m fine.”

Red scratched the back of his skull lazily, “dunno, honeybun, might need a tune-up and an oil change—”

“quit switching the metaphors!” Stretch let go of Edge long enough to flip a middle finger at him.

Red snorted, amused, “yeah, yeah, he can take you home. if,” Red stressed, “you take a mo’ to strip off the new gear those assholes gave you.”

“aw, gee, red,” Stretch batted a pair of imaginary eyelashes, “you’ve never asked me to strip before. i’m not even wearing a g-string, where will you stuff the dollars?”

“cute,” Red’s grin widened in a way that made Edge want to carry his husband far away. The way he bared his teeth venturing into the realm of amused cruelty, and the flick of his tongue absurdly lascivious, “it’s evidence and we need it. if you’d rather change up at the bone factory, bet the docs could take a chance to check you out—”

“no!” Stretch yelped, “no, no, fine. you have something for me to change into?”

“yep.” And Red pointed to the back of the ambulance. “in there.”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “wow,” he said dryly, “that trap isn’t even subtle. you want i should strap myself into the stretcher, too? check my vitals, start an iv?”

“it’s the only place to change, so either trust that we’ll do a catch and release, or…” Red trailed off meaningfully.

Stretch heaved a sigh and started squirming in Edge’s arms, wincing at the gravel as he was carefully set on the pavement. “back to fishing, huh? fine, fine. but if it drives off in the hospital way when i climb in the back, I’m shortcutting at the first stoplight and then we can play tag across town.”

“I won’t let them take you anywhere you don’t want to go, love.” Edge signed a little ‘x’ over his chest. Stretch’s scrutinizing look shifted to a soft smile and even though he would have preferred a doctor checking him over, Edge wouldn’t do anything to break the trust shining in his eye lights, not for anything in the world.

“okay, babe,” Stretch said, “give me five.”

He climbed into the ambulance, pulling the rear doors shut behind him. After a few minutes of the vehicle shaking and muffled swearing coming through the door, Stretch remerged. The clothes weren’t his own, but they fit, soft pants and a neon-bright sweatshirt that Stretch could have chosen himself, a far contrast to the cheap, bland clothes their kidnappers forced on them. Edge suspected his brother’s hand in it and wondered with some resignation if Red sent someone to purchase them tonight or if he simply kept spare clothes for them all in the dingy hole in the Embassy basement that passed as his office, for just such an occasion.

Probably the latter, Red was never one who minded delegating, but some things required a personal touch.

With visible distaste, Stretch handed over a large brown paper sack to Red. “take ‘em,” he said flatly. “burn them, whatever. i never want to see them again.”

“fair enough,” Red handed the bag off to one of the Embassy security who was standing close by with a muttered order. “all right, newly engaged goes next.”

Their Human friends were standing close by, both silently watching the entertainment, which was fair after the recent show upstairs. With the spotlight turned his way, Jeff hastily nodded and Antwan carefully set him on his feet, his hands lingering and reluctant to let him go.

“You two can head on home,” Antwan said, “We’re taking one of the Embassy cars.”

“yeah, okay, sounds good.” But Stretch didn’t return to Edge. He went to Jeff, leaning down to pull him into a tight hug that was fiercely returned. “hey, we made it, and you even got a special prize to top it off. congrats, bro,” Stretch told him.

It was charming the way Jeff’s cheeks went visibly pink even in the harsh overhead lights of the parking lot, but if this horrible night could end for him on a smile, Edge thought it fitting. No one said a word until the friends ended their embrace, Jeff heading into the ambulance to change and Stretch returning to Edge’s side, if not his arms.

“hey, honey bun.” Stretch paused, giving Red a questioning look, “i’ll have your cell phone back to you tomorrow.”

His face twitched but Stretch only nodded. He turned in a circle, his gaze searching, until it landed on Edge’s car parked on the far side of the lot. He started towards it and as slippers were included with his new wardrobe, Edge reluctantly allowed Stretch to walk on his own towards it.

Before he’d taken two steps, a small voice came from behind them. “Can I ride back with you two?”

Alone on the crumbling pavement, Blue stood there, his hands twisting together and his starry eye lights hesitant and hopeful. For the second time that night Edge cringed inwardly at not thinking of him.

“sure, bro,” Stretch said immediately. His eye lights flicked briefly to Edge to confirm, surprising him.

Of course he could come with them, why wouldn’t he…they needed to invite Blue over more often, Edge decided abruptly. They saw him often on movie nights and group events, and he knew that the Swap brothers had lunch together once a week, but he should spend more time with his brother, and with Edge.

Once, they’d been decently good friends, before his relationship with Stretch subtly cooled things between them. They could be friends again, better friends, if only one of them took the first step. Interesting how traumatic events could be a hell of an incentive.

“Of course,” Edge told him, and tried not to notice the sudden gratitude that filled Stretch’s face. He dug into his pocket for his keys and tossed them to Blue, who caught them with a jangle. “In fact, I’d prefer if you’d drive.”

Blue brightened visibly at the show of trust, darting over to the car. He held open the door as Stretch crawled into the back and didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow when Edge followed him.

“home, jeeves,” Stretch said. The last word broke on a deep yawn and he shifted to sprawl across the backseat, his skull in Edge’s lap.

“Seatbelt,” Edge chided.

“you put it on me,” Stretch grumbled. He didn’t move as Edge did, only settled in more comfortably once the belt was across him. He was asleep before they’d even left the parking lot, without so much as an ounce of deception in his long, slow breaths.

Cautiously, Edge settled his bare hands on him, choosing where to settle them with some care, one hand on his clothed side and the other on his skull with more palm than fingers. He wished for a pair of his gloves to keep the sharpened tips safely concealed. Earlier, he’d wanted his hands exposed and ready to be used, and now in the aftermath, he wanted them tucked away again, the same as he’d learned to conceal his other, more Underfell-ian tendencies. Only bringing them out when they were useful, like a set of heirloom dishes, then hiding them at the back of the hutch again to gather dust.

(don’t think of it that way, do not)

He resisted the urge to clench his hands, closed his sockets and tried to concentrate on the feel of warm bone under his bare hand. Stretch often carried spare gloves for him in his bag, never questioning Edge’s preference, never mocked or teased; he didn’t just accept that quirk, he embraced it and tried to help. If he were awake, he would have been pleased at the bare-handed touch, he would understand the significance of it and Edge focused on that.

It helped soothe some of his agitation and when Edge opened his sockets again, he was surprised to see the Embassy gates already looming ahead. “Drop us off, you can take my car home tonight.”

Blue nodded silently, his gaze focused intently on the road. There wasn’t even a teasing, if pointed, joke about Edge letting his car out of his sight. The car didn’t matter, all that was important was in his arms right now.

He pulled into their driveway and Blue held the door again as Edge carefully lifted Stretch into his arms. He paused long enough for Blue to press a gentle kiss to his brother’s skull, murmuring something Edge did not hear, then carried him inside as the car pulled out of the drive behind him. He hoped Papyrus was home, surely he was, and that he would know that Blue could use some friendly companionship after this night.

He would know, Edge decided firmly. This was Papyrus he was thinking of and it was likely he already had a pot of strong tea and some very interesting cookies ready to share, along with a blanket and some Mettaton reruns. Blue would be fine for tonight and tomorrow he could come over again, after they’d all had some necessary sleep.

He carried Stretch inside and settled him on the sofa. Upstairs would have been better, but he needed a moment for his leg to recover before taking him any further. Not that Stretch noticed, he only slept on, sleepily burrowing into the blanket Edge draped carefully over him.

Indecision seized Edge then. There were things that needed to be done, but leaving Stretch here alone made uneasiness stir in his soul. In the end, he checked the door and window locks to make sure they were secured and that their alarm system was on before he reluctantly went upstairs to run a bath and lay out pajamas. It would be testing Stretch’s ability to sleep through anything, but those Humans had touched him, laid their filthy hands on him. A quick wash would go a long way for both of them to get some decent rest.

He waited for the tub to fill with foamy bubbles, the unsubtle floral scent of lavender filling the room, before heading back downstairs. He halted on the landing, his soul seizing in his chest, to see that the sofa was empty, the blanket thrown carelessly back.

Edge closed his sockets and took a long, deep breath, settling his rattled nerves. Yes, Stretch was missing again, but this time, he suspected he knew exactly where he’d gone.

The sliding glass door was now unlocked, and Edge opened it to step out into the backyard. Dewy grass clung to his shoes as he walked and the horizon was overflowing with purples and pinks and deep orange, heralding the arrival of the sun.

The fence was standing open, confirming his suspicions, and Edge opened the coop door to find Stretch sitting on the floor, heedless of its less than sterile state. Nugget was in his lap, magnanimous surrendering her a scritches to her small, adopted duckling that was curled up on Stretch’s knee, mumbling out sleepy little quacks as it was gently stroked.

Stretch didn’t look up. “hey, babe,” he mumbled.

Edge sank down to sit next to them, pressing their sides together from shoulder to hip. “You could have warned me,” Edge said.

It was lightly said, but Stretch flinched, shifting to rest his head on Edge’s shoulder. “sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

“I’d say you’re still not,” Edge agreed. “are you even awake?”

“prolly not.”

They sat together in the dimly lit coop, the silence broken only by the faint sleeping rumbles from the chickens. Neither of them were prepared for Cheese to stir, going from sleeping to wide awake in an instant the moment they noticed the open door. With a riot of happy peeps, they hopped from Stretch’s knee, dodging Edge’s grab as they ran outside to plunge into the new pond, swimming circles in the clear water.

They followed them out, “No, not right now,” Edge began, preparing to wade in if necessary to secure their tiniest poultry companion.

“eh, let ‘em play," Stretch yawned. He sank down on the walkway they’d finished only the day before. “let them have some fun. may as well, i'm really tired, but i dunno if i can sleep yet."

Edge nodded and settled next to him again. The brickwork was hard beneath his tailbone and he made a mental note to have a bench of some sort installed. He should have thought of it before, Stretch enjoyed watching his pets, and both the patio and the porch swing were too far away for proper observation. Rather than allow Stretch to sit on the stones, he pulled his love into his lap, holding him close without impeding his view. "We can wait until you're ready."

"gonna have nightmares,” Stretch said abruptly. His voice was smaller and knowingly weary. "i was scared, you know, but andy was there, and he was scareder. his face was," Stretch gestured at his own face and shook his head. "i couldn't let him get hurt. i couldn’t."

It ached to hear that soft confession, though he’d known Stretch must have been frightened. He pushed the image of Stretch waking up terrified and surrounded by enemies out of his mind, saying firmly, "You didn't, you protected him."

"he wouldn't need protecting if he'd stayed in his seat on that bus all those months back,” Stretch said sourly and that was a notion that couldn’t wait for his therapist to address.

"Don't,” Edge told him softly, “Don't take on blame that isn't yours, you don’t deserve to carry their guilt."

"heh, yeah. you're one to talk."

“I know. So you can believe I know what I’m talking about.”

“don’t worry, babe, i know something about carrying guilt that ain’t yours, too.” Before Edge could question that, Stretch sighed heavily, confessing, "i knew one of the guys."

That was a chilling admission. "You did."

"yeah, he used to work at classic books,” Stretch said. He shifted in Edge’s arms, unconsciously pushing in closer. “had an issue with monsters, but i didn't think anything of it. lots of humans do. he never said anything out loud that i ever heard. last i knew, thomas said he quit. thomas was happier for it, he was about to fire the guy, anyway, him quitting made his life easier."

“Does my brother know this?”

“if he didn’t before, pretty sure he already does now, but i’ll tell him during my little interview tomorrow.” In his arms, Stretch shivered, bones briefly rattling. “when i saw him, saw into his—” Stretch stopped abruptly, “anyway. he’s not a nice guy, babe. not at all.”

“I see,” Edge said, slowly. There were depths in that obvious diverting should be explored, questions to ask, but that could wait for tomorrow. “Let’s go inside and get cleaned up, all right?”

“yeah, okay.” Stretch crawled out of his arms to the side of the pond and rather than fruitlessly chasing Cheese, he held out a hand. It took hardly more than a touch of blue magic to pull the little duckling close, their pitiful quacks as they were once more robbed of their watery freedom filling the air. “yeah, i know,” Stretch soothed, “tomorrow, okay? i’ll let you swim ‘till you’re sick of it, kiddo.”

He returned the duckling to Nugget, who unsympathetically tucked the peeping duckling beneath her, and when Stretch turned back to Edge, his gaze sharpened suddenly as he watched Edge climb to his feet. “where’s your cane?”

“I was getting it as we speak.”

“uh huh, from inside the house, it’s so useful in there. you,” Stretch jabbed a slender finger at him, “you’re going to use it all day tomorrow, right? no bitching, either.”

Edge didn’t bother pointing out that it was highly likely he wouldn’t be doing much walking at all tomorrow, certainly not out of their home. Tomorrow would be full of questioning and paperwork, so many things that would need to be done. But first, they needed to finish off the night before dawn took it.

“Of course,” he agreed. He allowed Stretch to pull an arm over his shoulders, ostensibly to help him inside, but it wasn’t his leg that needed Stretch’s assistance.

His soul pulsed in his chest softly, settling at the feel of Stretch close to him, leading them both into their house, and when they finally slept that night, it was on the sofa rather than their bed, both of them freshly washed and with a cooking show playing softly in the background.

Lying together, Edge was acting the part of smaller spoon to Stretch’s larger one, and if Stretch guessed the position was one that put Edge closer to the door, he didn’t say. His face was buried into the back of Edge’s neck, his breath damp and even. Edge drifted on the borders of sleep, listening more to that quiet breathing than whatever the chef on the screen was saying.

“I can’t lose you.” The words escaped him, said to no one at all, less a statement and more a vow, a promise offered in the early morning light. I can’t, he thought to himself as he drifted, barely hearing the sleepy murmur in return.

“you won’t, babe. ’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Soothed, Edge let sleep claim him, trusting that he was safely caught up in the embrace of both slumber and his love.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

40 notes · View notes

fairytalesintheend · 4 years ago

Text

Punk Rock Ezra

Word count: 1520

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, small mention of a suicide attempt, adult content, mentions of smut and cockwarming, language, I think that’s it but please lemme know

A/n: alright kiddos I have no idea what this is. Unedited, unbeta’d, barely revised, fully self indulgent Punk Rock Ezra. Inspired by the wonderful punk ezra hc’s from @rae-gar-targaryen’s beautiful brain. Loosely inspired by Punk Rock John by Neil Hilborn. Enjoy or tell me if it sucks😘 p.s. formatting might be fucked cause I copied from drive and pasted on mobile lmao

—————————————————-

The first time you saw Ezra he was crowd surfing up to the stage. You noticed the blonde streak in his hair and you watched it until it disappeared into the sea of people in the pit. At the next show the same streak caught your eye. Then the show after that and the one after that too. Ezra and that damned blonde streak were almost expected at any show you attended and you’d be kidding yourself if you thought it hadn’t become some sort of a comfort.

The first time you met Ezra, he’d pulled you up from the floor at a show. He’d asked if you were alright, brushed the dirt off your clothes then told you “Protect your face, birdie. If you get pushed, push back. You’ll be fine.” Then he threw you back into the pit.

One time he found you about to punch someone and grabbed you around your waist, pulling you back into the crowd. You were angry. At everything and nothing. You hated your life and the world and everything in it. You’d tried fighting him off of you but he held you firm against him. “Don’t start shit you can’t finish, birdie. You don’t know who their friends are, you’ll get yourself killed. Don’t be stupid.” He spun you around to face him but kept his grip on you. “We’ve all felt the way you feel, birdie. That’s why you’re here.” Ezra helped you protect yourself and let go at shows. Jumping and dancing and screaming your anger away instead of trying to take it out on some metal kid who wasn’t worth the time. He took your hand and showed you that this was a safe place. That everyone in the room had gone through shitty things and that you weren’t alone. That this was a place you belonged. He looked out for you and you looked out for him too. Which made falling in love with him all the more easy.

Ezra usually wore jeans that were cut off at the knee and ratty band t-shirts, most of which had the sleeves ripped off. His dirty black Chucks were the only shoes you ever saw him wear. He had tattoos of constellations and geometric designs that were scattered all over his arms. There were doodles and random pictures inked on his thighs that he’d done himself in high school. He also had a phrase in Latin on the left side of his neck. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant. “The stars incline us, they do not bind us.” He told you one day what it meant. “Fate can guide us birdie but we can’t let the stars do everything. It’s our job to be responsible for us and what we put into this world.”

He had a nose ring and his ears were pierced in three places. All he’d done himself over the sink in his bathroom. One time he offered to pierce your nose for you and while you declined at first, three weeks later you found yourself sitting on Ezra’s bathroom counter while he brought the hot needle to your face.

He had a scar on his cheek. Almost crescent moon shaped below his eye. The first time he told you how he got it he told you it was from a knife fight. Later on you’d find out he was trying to impress you when in actuality it was from falling off his skateboard when he was 17.

He’d ask you to touch up the blonde streak in his hair. He really could do it himself but he liked when you did it because he was convinced you did it much better than he ever did.

He talked all the time, about everything. Music, art, science, literature. He went on long rants about injustices in the world but they sounded more like monologues from your favorite play. You couldn’t do anything but stare, breathing him in while he strung together the pieces of his life for you. His voice wrote journal entries on your bedroom walls. He forced you to talk as well. “There’s a storm brewing in that head of yours. Can’t hide those eyes from me, Nightingale. They tell more stories than I do. Talk.” Sometimes you listened to him. You would talk about anything and everything or nothing at all. Whether you’d liked to admit it or not, it worked. Better than any other therapy you’d tried. Other times you’d turn away from him and cross your arms, curling into yourself. You’d hear him let out a long breath. Then he’d be at the stereo. He would pick a cd then turn up the volume almost as loud as it could go so you couldn’t hear your own thoughts anymore. He’d make you stand on the bed with him and sing. Scream the words as loud as you could until you felt better. “The church of punk rock is always open, birdie,” He told you once. “This is how you pray.”

You never thought you could love a sound more than you loved the sound of music until you heard Ezra moan your name against your neck as he moved inside you. The grunts and whines that fell from his lips creating a symphony that you wanted on repeat forever. The way he moved in you felt the closest to holy you were ever going to get. Oh how he worshipped you. And you him. You could spend hours here, the sanctuary of each other’s bodies. Hands, teeth, and tongues making their mark. He would stay inside you for a while after. Holding you, scattering soft kisses anywhere he could reach. Sometimes you’d fall asleep like this then wake up the next morning to worship each other all over again.

Ezra was a survivor. You knew that the first time you saw him. Everyone in that dirty basement was a survivor. Ezra talked about his entire life with you but you knew there were some things he kept hidden from the world. Not that you blamed him. You had your fair share of things you’d never told anyone. Of course, that changed over time. You both came to each other for confession. Whispered admissions of sin in the dark of Ezra’s bedroom. He told you things that made your heart ache. How could he be so gentle? So forgiving? When the world had done so much? Would you ever be? So forgiving of this world, so gentle toward yourself and this life? Or would this anger you held inside you always be there? You’d asked Ezra one night. “I am not as healed as you may imagine, Nightingale.” He said. “I do my share of praying more than you’d know.”

You took care of Ezra and in turn, Ezra took care of you. He’d saved you from yourself on more than one occasion. One night was particularly bad. You’d locked yourself in the bathroom with a kitchen knife. When Ezra showed up at your place he’d knocked on the door and you yelled at him to go away. To just let you do this. It would be better. So much better. But instead he broke the lock on the door when he kicked it open. He held his arms out to you with caution. Coaxed you to listen to him and let go as he moved closer to you. He’d pulled the knife out of your hands and pulled you into his arms. You fought him at first, wriggling in his arms until he backed against the wall and held you so you couldn’t move. The two of you sunk to the floor. You sobbed into his chest, hiccuping every few moments. Your breathing was still rapid. For the first time ever, Ezra just stayed silent. He ran his hand over your hair and held you tightly against him. He only spoke after your breathing wouldn’t calm down. “Shhh, shhh birdie I need you to slow down okay? Just breathe with me.” You stayed on the cold bathroom floor in his arms for what seemed like hours. Then Ezra picked you up, made you some food and sat with you on your couch. He didn’t try to get you to talk. He just put in a cd and turned up the volume. He kissed your forehead and then your lips. “One day we’ll leave this place birdie. I promise you. I’ll get you out of here.”

He kept his promise. Years after the first time you saw Ezra, he stands in your kitchen with your daughter on his hip. He’s making breakfast and singing to her while he stirs batter for pancakes. You’re not angry anymore. You take meds that work for you and you even have a therapist you don’t completely hate. Your life is so different than it used to be. You don’t need to pray as much as you used to but in times of trouble Ezra will still pop in a cd and turn up the volume and you can hear the first thing he said to you. “You’ll be fine.”

————————————————

Tags for fun: @rae-gar-targaryen @qveenbvtch @steeeeeeeviebb @zeldasayer @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @fleetwoodmactshirt @cinewhore @lokiaddicted @pascalplease @krissology @frannyzooey @mostly-megan @flightlessangelwings @voteforpedropascal @pettyprocrastination @artemiseamoon @justanotherblonde23

#this is trash but I like it lmao #Ezra #punk rock ezra #Ezra x reader #prospect au #prospect movie #Ezra prospect #fanfic

102 notes · View notes

godccmplex · 3 years ago

Text

Mobile rules

General RP rules apply, no godmodding or toe stepping, lets just have fun, yeah? Mun is 28+ and blog is 18+. Open, but lightly selective, not mutual exclusive, and OC and fandom friendly! Female muses are welcome as well, everyone is, I don’t mind at all! Multi-verse, multi-ship.

I am low, sporadic activity for the simple fact that I work evenings in retail. Which also means I tend to be on mobile as well, but I’m still usually around to chat! I have a discord as well for mutuals who want to plot (I do NOT rp on discord, sorry!)

I don’t do reblog karma, but lightly encourage you instead. I’m not going to come for you for anything, we’re adults here with our own focuses, I just want to have some fun here

I do not write smut. It’s just not my cup of tea, I prefer the fade to black or insinuating.

I don’t have any triggers but I will be happy to tag anything if anyone needs me to. I tag triggers as “content tw”

In general, I’m pretty laid back, so if you wanna vibe with me, let’s vibe. I don’t post hate or drama, you can take that outside, and I don’t have any issue with problematic content. Write what you wanna write! Be cool and we’ll have a good time.

- I also don’t have any banned faceclaims per se, however I do have a list of FCs that I and close friends use that I am not as inclined to write against. They are (BOLD are hard nos):

Hozier

Emma Stone

David Mazouz

Adam Brody

Eric Dane

Troy Baker and Ryan Gosling

Ben Wiggins

Jodelle Ferland

Charlotte Ritchie

Donnie Yen

Parker Sawyers

Bradley James

Emmett J. Scanlan

Halle Bailey

Nitin Chauhan

Kayla Itsines

Phil Brooks “CM Punk”

Other’s FCs:

Penn Badgley

Ryan Destiny

Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Manny Montana (unless it’s a canon character)

Eiza Gonzalez

Bryan Dechart

#× мσтнєявσαя∂ × { ooc }#mobile rules

9 notes · View notes

szivtalan · 4 years ago

Note

midorima and takao for the 15th fluff prompt

aww thank you!!

prompt: “yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe i would.” + midotaka

tags: underage drinking lol, jealousy, mentions of weed

takao never, in a million years would've thought that he would be partying with the entire color scale of the generation of miracles, and their trusty extensions in basketball.

and yet it's summer, and he's in kise ryouta's house all of a sudden. he steps over aomine daiki, the aomine daiki's extended legs lazily stretched on the floor for anyone to trip on, and looks back to see one of the number one basketball aces play some loudly jingling mobile game on his phone. a shudder ripples down takao's spine, he thought he wasn't easy to intimidate, but looking around, the sheer strength in the room is something to behold.

kise greets him by the open door to the kitchen: he smells like vodka cranberry, and he's swaying in one place, and there's a telltale curve of tipsiness in his grin.

'takaocchi!' he chirps as takao approaches him, bodily pushing his extended hand out of the way to wrap his arms around his neck and practically lick a sloppy kiss onto his cheek. takao flushes, and he isn't sure if it's because of the presence, the eagerness, or the nickname of the older player. 'hap-pyy birthday!'

'it's your birthday, you drunk idiot.' takao laughs, but he isn't sure what he should do with the armful of blonde leaning onto his shoulder. was it- was it even appropriate to call him an idiot? after all, he's only doing takao a favor by inviting him...

'oh yes, yes,' kise mutters, pulling away with a flash of a huge smile. from this close, takao can see that there's glitter on his face and mascara on his eyes. he might even be wearing lip gloss, or he's just naturally gorgeous on the mouth area. as well as every other area, takao states with a blush. 'then happy birthday to me! do you have a drink?'

and that's how takao, 17, got led into the kitchen by the miracles' copycat's arm wrapped around his shoulder.

takao stopped replying to his texts twenty minutes ago. midorima raises a brow at his phone screen as he gets off the bus, a strange sort of disappointment dwelling in his chest at the lack of response, one that has him locking the phone and slipping it back into his jacket pocket on instinct. he doesn't like being ignored, and he certainly hates being ignored by someone he's so interested in.

truth be told, he wasn't keen on attending kise's birthday party. it's not the sort of social outing he would've been particularly interested in, and he wasn't very into the idea of having to figure out what the blonde would want to be gifted, but he agreed to come with two conditions: takao is coming with him, and they're joining forces on kise's gift.

the basketball keychain was an easy find, but the necklace with a gemini symbol was something midorima had to look for on various places - hence why he's about forty minutes late to the occasion. he's never been to kise's place before, but he supposes it's not very hard to mistake the house booming with speakers. he nods to kagami standing around on the porch talking to his seirin senpais - they seem to be passing around a cigarette which midorima does not want to know what's inside of -. and steps through the open door.

the floor is a mess of destroyed balloons, confetti and candy wrappers, and the lights are off for the most part: kise seems to have hung up some extra-strong fairy lights just so they could still see each other. it feels like a club, which is exactly what midorima expected.

the first person he recognizes inside is akashi, sipping something out of a wine glass and staring curiously at the crowd. midorima decides to put aside their differences to approach him - he seems...relatively sober, after all.

'good evening, shintaro.' akashi raises his voice just above the volume of the music. he doesn't even seem surprised to see midorima here, despite this obviously not being his scene. 'can i help you with anything?'

if anything, his aversion to small talk has always been one of akashi's best traits.

'yes, i'm- looking, for takao.' midorima struggles not to yell, but still manage to be heard. akashi leans into his space, supposedly to hear him better.

'ah, your shadow.' he says with a smile. 'the last i've seen him, he went upstairs.'

a weird sort of weight settles in midorima's guts. upstairs... so that's why he hasn't been replying to his messages..?

'is he-' he starts, but he stumbles in his words. akashi raises his brow, such uncharacteristic behavior from you. 'with- with someone?'

'don't tell me you're jealous, shintaro?' akashi actually laughs, a curt noise that has midorima's face heating up. 'i should've known. no, he wasn't looking for anyone in particular, just the bathroom. i believe it's the third door to your left.'

'apologies. and, thank you.' midorima nods, bows a little for more effect. when he turns, he thinks he hears akashi say something along the lines of 'go get him, tiger'.

takao's words are slurred, and he's clinging into midorima's neck.

'been thinkin'- 'bout it so much-,' he mumbles, and his hold on the top of midorima's shoulder tightens. midorima sighs, exasperated. it was enough excitement to look for takao when they've been separated, but to find him piss drunk and sprawled in kise's bathtub was truly something else: midorima doubts his nerves could take any more of this.

'what's on your mind, takao?' he asks nevertheless, although he regrets it in point five seconds.

'kiss... kissin' you...' takao sighs, nuzzling into midorima's throat. the taller freezes, stops in his steps.

he what?

'you should kis'me, chin-chan...' he mutters, and his syllables blend together into a mess of sounds. 'kissm-e, should you.'

'alright, yoda-sensei, you've had enough for one day...'

'please kiss me, shin-chan.' takao begs now, his arms trembling around midorima. he squeezes his waist back, trying to anchor him, because now he's bleeding desperation, and he's aching, yearning to give in, too...

'yeah, well,' he sighs, and he can't believe they have to have this conversation like this. 'if you weren’t so drunk maybe i would.'

takao looks up at him. takao looks incredibly confused. takao's chapped lips pull into a huge smile, and his grey eyes light up, and he's on midorima before either of them knows it.

'you mean it? do you really mean it??'

'get off-' midorima struggles. 'yeah, i do! now let me take you home, and we'll talk about it tomorrow.'

magically, takao doesn't have to be dragged the rest of the way.

#vmine #midotaka #takao kazunari #kise ryouta #midorima shintarou #akashi seijurou #kagami taiga #knb #ahhhh i feel like this is rushed but long?? at the same time lmao #anyway!!! i had fun with it #thank you so much!!#aomine daiki

35 notes · View notes

rpbetter · 4 years ago

Text

Reblog Etiquette (and ships)

At this point, we all know about “reblog karma” and “reblogging from source.” Though, I say that...and am questioning it. You should fucking know this by now, but in the event you don’t, let me define that shit for you.

Reblog Karma: the RPC’s oldest attempt at keeping people from clogging notifications and using others as meme resources. Essentially, don’t reblog a meme from a mutual unless you are sending them something from that meme first. Not all blogs practice it, or practice it the same way, please see their rules.

Reblogging from Source: another effort to stop being used as a meme/aesthetics resource. Many RPers would like you to reblog quotes, aesthetics, and memes from their source (original post location or the meme/aesthetics/quotes resource blog they got it from), even if you are sending them a meme. This is especially applicable when not interacting with the RPer.

Okay, that’s out of the way.

There is more to Reblog Etiquette than this!

And, when that etiquette is nonexistent, it almost always deals with a RPer’s ship. Mentioning ship partners and/or tagging ships on a reblog from another RPer, not removing that RPer’s mentions or tags, and even dropping a mention or outright RPing in the comments of another RPer’s reblog.

Don’t reblog from another mun and tag your ship or mention (@) your ship partner(s).

Don’t reblog a post with someone else’s mention still stuck to it.

Don’t reblog a post and leave the previous mun’s tags still in the tags.

Don’t go into the comments on someone’s post and mention your ship partner(s).

Don’t roleplay in the comments of someone else’s post.

None of this is alright, I have no idea what would make anyone think this is appropriate reblog etiquette, but it very much is not. It’s incredibly rude and lazy. Because I know that many people have similar ship aesthetics and so on, I’m not saying you shouldn’t reblog something for your own ships that a mutual has for theirs. (That’s a whole other in depth conversation we’ll have later.)

I’m saying that this is how you should be going about it:

Reblog from the source.

-What if there is no source because it’s deactivated, or there is another reason why I can’t access it?

Go into the post’s notes. At some point, damn near every post that could be used as an aesthetic, quote, or prompt for a ship (and RP in general) has been reblogged by at least one source blog. Look for RP meme, aesthetic, help, and other resource blog urls. If you cannot find one of those, look for urls that are general resource-style blogs. Personal blogs reblog aesthetics etc. as well, and there are many such resource blogs out there. -If you’re uncomfortable reblogging from a personal, that’s tough shit; I hate to break it to you, but most of your resources came from personal blogs. Deal with it, or don’t reblog anything you can’t find filtered through a RP specific resource.

-- “But this takes time/effort lol I just want to use it for my ship.” Again, tough shit. Sometimes, it does take energy not to be rude and do the right the thing. In all honesty, it’s fairly rare that doing the right thing is effortless, even when it’s something as simple as RP. Grow up.

--- You went through the notes, but there’s no appropriate blog to reblog from, now what?

Just because it’s a rare occurrence doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I know this one isn’t, I’ve had it happen too! My choice was to not reblog it at all, I just sent the link to my ship partner privately instead. If you don’t have that kind of friendship, you really wanted it on the dash, or another reason, you are now left with one option, and you’re not going to like it. Message the mutual you want to reblog from. Politely, explain that you’d like to reblog the post for your ship, and ask if they’re comfortable with it. No guilting, begging, or general, weird ass rudeness. If they decline, accept it just as politely, thank them for their response. If they accept, thank them, and especially if this isn’t a mutual you interact with much, be sure you’re showing them continued support on the dash by reading and liking/commenting on their headcanon posts and other appropriate material. (You should be anyway.)

Remove any mentions present (@’s)

Seriously, this is incredibly rude! Yet, with the typical lack of self-reflection and awareness of others in the RPC here, I see it multiple times a day on my dash. Not just with RP-blog-to-RP-blog interaction either, I also see RPers reblogging from personals and leaving their mentions attached. (I see it the other way around too, but I’m not here to school personal blogs.) For all the excessive emphasis RPers put on appearance, you’d think they’d want to get rid of something that looks this sloppy, but no. Not if it takes one extra second of effort!

-I know that xkit’s editable reblogs tends to break whenever tumblr gives us a new, exciting, hideous, insulting, limitation, I mean update, but come the fuck on. It is also one of the quickest things to regain functionality, so, maybe you should save the reblog to drafts, be following xkit’s blog for updates, and edit it once there has been a patch. If it’s worth it to you, it’s worth a short wait. When it’s working, you can easily remove that mention with editable reblogs.

--If you’re going to use being mobile as an excuse, or if you don’t want to wait on it/don’t use xkit, again, go to the source. And, also again, if that isn’t an option, you can find where it has been reblogged by an appropriate blog at some point in its history, sans mentions. Reblog from there.

Do not reblog someone else’s tags (#)

Some people have their xkit set up to reblog automatically with the previous poster’s tags. While that can be useful in some situations, I can think of, very literally, no situation this is appropriate for an RPer to use. If you have this set up on your personal/resource blog/wtfe and your RP blog is a sideblog (or you are using certain methods of having your browser open to two separate blog accounts where your xkit settings are transferring over), it’s up to you to delete the tags on these posts.

-It takes maybe one full second to click in the tag field and hit your delete button a few times to clear it. Do that. It’s never, ever, appropriate to keep someone’s ship, muse, verse, or other personalized tags attached to a reblog.

--If you are a personal blog reading this somehow, maybe you’re wanting to get into RP, please take note of this. This is one of the many reasons why most RPers will not interact with personals. We don’t like you reblogging an aesthetic post and keeping our tags on it.

In the case of both situations, not only is it rude and lazy, it’s fucking with someone else’s tags and privacy. Most RPers don’t want their content showing up in generally searchable tags, it’s one of the reasons that personalizing tags came about. Furthermore, if I’m on my dash and click a mutual’s custom tag for aesthetics, verses, ships, and so on, it’s now going to come up with instances of those tags on someone else’s blog as well.

Delete the fucking tags if they auto-populate. Don’t use someone else’s custom tags of your own volition either.

“Subverting” reblogs to mention in comments is a hard no, too

-So, you don’t want to reblog the post, but do want to @ your ship partner(s) in it? There’s no way to do that without being rude and strange. To be honest, this is even worse than just reblogging and tagging your ship.

I may not be the OP, but you came onto a post on my blog, one very likely tagged for my ships and/or having my ship partners mentioned on it, and commented on it mentioning your ship partner. It’s every bit as offensive and more so than someone reblogging from me and using it for a ship I’m not a part of. I don’t know what’s worse, when that other mun is a ship partner, casual mutual who doesn’t interact, or a writing partner but not ship partner. It’s all deeply fucked up. No one’s RP blog is here for your use like this!

--You’re also not subverting anything. I think the idea is to be polite or go unnoticed. People seem to lack a basic grasp on how tumblr works; you get notifications on reblogged posts you are not the OP of when someone comments on them just like you get a notif when someone likes it. The only way to genuinely be secretive about this would be to comment on it from the source or a resource blog. They will get the notification.

If you are commenting on, liking, or reblogging a post you see on the dash, the person having reblogged it, putting it there for you to encounter, will be notified of your interaction with it.

---What I’m saying, just in case it isn’t abundantly clear, for the third time now: you’re not being slick. Your mutuals will see that you weirdly @’ed someone in a comment on their reblog. They know.

----The appropriate behavior is to do just as advised in the above points: GO TO THE SOURCE. If no source exists, find an appropriate resource blog in the notes. You may then, and only then, give that mention in a comment.

Frankly, it’s still weird, and I would recommend you just reblog it from the source to interact with it. There is always the option of sending it to the intended party by way of tumblr’s messenger or linking the post in an off tumblr messenger like discord.

I say this because it hasn’t escaped my attention that the only time I have this issue on my own RP blog is when the imagery or text is fucking filthy. As in, Other Mun didn’t want something that sexual, kinky, violent, and so on to be posted to their own blog. You need to grow up if that’s your deal. Like writing smut or violence, if you need to do it in private only, you’re obviously not adult enough to handle the topic.

Keep your roleplay where it belongs; in your inbox and threads

-It’s not appropriate to start up RP in the comments of another RPer’s reblogged ship aesthetic. (Or anything else, this just happens to be the most common.) It’s incredibly odd and offensive to look in your notifications and see that a mutual and their ship partner are flirting, or outright fucking, in the comments of a post you reblogged for your ship.

It’s just as awkward feeling and offensive when someone reblogs the post and begins full-blown RP on it. It’s one thing when it’s a post originating from an RP resource blog, or when it’s kept to something like a mention and a short line that your writing partner can start their original post in inspiration of. But...

--You know how I said above that auto-copying tags thing is one of the reasons why RPers are iffy about personal blogs? Well, this is one of the reasons why personal blogs think RPers are exceedingly weird members of fandom that need to be excluded and devalued. It’s odd, especially if you’ve never encountered RP, to see someone reblogging your quote, moodboard, or other original post and RPing on it.

Listen, we all need to RP some crack and commentary sometimes, but it’s best left in the tags or put into a new post.

---Instead of RPing (not sorry, especially if it is smut) on that post, link the image to show in a new post, and go from there.

Please remember to be polite about artists, including photographers and gifers, when you do this! Tumblr automatically gives the source of imagery when you use a link to display the picture, that’s why I recommended doing that instead of saving, then re-uploading the image as though it is your own. If you’re going to do that, even if it’s just silliness going on, give mention of the artist, photographer’s blog/site, or gifer’s blog in the tag or below the image.

Tumblr is deeply unfriendly to artists of all sorts, don’t be fuel that. When you upload artwork for the sake of RP, again, even if it’s just crack, that’s literally violating what artists ask people not to do; you’re reposting their art without permission and credit.

#rp better #reblog etiquette #rp advice #rp help #psa #rp psa #mun behavior #ships #tumblr rpc

35 notes · View notes