#I mean I’m a good looking guy I got some social conventions going for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sineala · 4 years ago

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How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, “oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years ago

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An Unhealthy Obsession- Shigaraki x reader

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: Short yandere fic based off the song “An Unhealthy Obsession,” by The Blake Robinson Synth. Orchestra.

Cw: yandere and stalker tendencies

Word count: 1.9k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Many people would call Shigarki the creepy type if they saw him on the street. Slouched over, face always buried in his phone with his hoodie covering the rest. He looked like your local creep who hung around popular stores and malls by himself. He would go to one mall in particular, even more so after he realized they had a Game Stop there. He would frequently go in to browse, and while he was checking out one day, he met you behind the counter.

“Will this be all?” you ask in your sweet customer service voice, with your head slightly tilted. Shigaraki froze in place. No one this pretty has ever talked to him before.

“Um, yeah, that’s all.” he says quickly, looking down to the ground while you're bagging his games.

“This one’s my favorite; I’ve been playing non-stop since it came out, have fun with it!” you say as you hand the bag back. And you play games? Could it get any more perfect?!

“Thanks,” he managed before walking out of the store and finding the closest bathroom. He locked the stall door and sat down. With his heartbeat in his cock, he couldn’t stop thinking of how innocent your voice sounded, and how pretty you looked. He decided from then on you were his next obsession.

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Shigaraki visited the store so often he learned your schedule. He would watch others make small talk with you, and it made him want to steal you for himself. His blood boiled when someone else would make you laugh. Soon enough, seeing you at your work wasn’t enough. He wanted to know more about you. So he followed you home one day. He kept his distance, being too scared of appearing creepy to people around him. You lived a few blocks away from him, who knew!This made it very easy for Shigaraki to stake out across the street and just watch you for hours. You always kept your windows open, maybe for the natural light? He appreciated it though; in his eyes, you left your blinds open for him. So he could watch as you dance around your room with your dog, and then relax and watch tv, hugging a pillow as you accidentally fall asleep. You were precious, and he realized all you wanted, all you needed, was someone like him to cuddle up into, to make sure you were safe. After all, there were too many creeps who could hurt you- he was just making sure they didn't get to you.

Shigaraki made it back to his place, but you never left his head. He went from sitting in the bushes, to sitting hunched over his desk, looking up your name on every search engine imaginable. “Bingo!” he says once he finds your socials. He scrolls down your page, seeing your stories about going to conventions earlier in the summer, spending time with your friends and- oh? What’s this? You were hugging a boy in this picture. Shigaraki zoomed in to get a good look at his face. “Why would you want a bastard like him?” he grunted angrily. He clicked on his profile and saw a post of you two eating at “your favorite restaurant” together for his birthday. The post was from the beginning of this year, so maybe you weren’t still with the guy. I mean Shigaraki didn’t see anyone while he was stalking you, which was a good sign.

Over time, his camera roll would fill up with screenshots of you off of your profile, shaky pictures he snapped of you while you were working, etc. He was in the store just when you worked now, because any other time he was following paces behind you to wherever your pretty feet were taking you. Stepping up to the counter with a few games, you began checking him out. His voice low and quiet as he asked, “Do you play games often?”

“Oh sure! Whenever I have free time, really. But lately I’ve been too busy. We should totally play together sometime!” you beam. Play together? He wanted to do a lot more than that .

“C-Cool, then I’ll see you through a screen next time,” Shigaraki scratches his neck awkwardly. You give him that practiced smile you show to all the customers. “Oh, what time do you get out?” he asks, and you give him a confused look. “S-so I know when to hop on! Just in case..” he drifts off, trying to keep cool. You tell him around 8, and he leaves. That’s perfect. Gives him just enough time to run some errands.

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Shigaraki went to the hardware store and got the smallest cameras he would find. He hurried over to your place, and prayed the key was still under the rug where you left it. And it was! He unlocked your door, and your small dog ran up to him, jumping on his leg. “You’re a friendly little guy, aren’t you?” he says, leaning down to pet the dog. Don’t get distracted ! He reminded himself. He began by setting a few cameras up in your room, one facing each corner. This gave him a perfect view of your bed, desk, and closet. While he was in there, he picked up a piece of thin red fabric off the ground. He inhaled deeply, to smell a sweet and salty scent. He shoved them into his pockets for later, and finished placing the cameras.

Back out in the living room, your dog was following him around. Shigaraki knelt down and gave him a pat. He read the dog's collar; apparently his name was Shiro. Cute. “You want something, Shiro? You need some food?” he asked, looking around for his dog dish. He found it and filled it up and then sat on the couch. He took your panties out of his pocket, giving them another whiff. The smell shot straight down to his groin, heating him up. He pulled his phone out and went to his album just for you and scrolled through the pictures. He loved you so dearly, and one day you would know just how much he cherished you. He played back the small interactions the two of you had, and all the memories you’d have together in the future. He palmed his hardening cock, head leaning back on the couch.

It was 6:30, he still had a few more hours before you were back. He revealed his dick from his sweatpants, his tip leaking pre. He put your red panties in his hand, and started to jerk himself off- the soft lace brushing against the underside of his dick. His breathing became hitched and sporadic at the thought of you underneath him making the same noises. No, he wasn’t experienced, but you would teach him everything he needed to know!

“Y/N… god you’re so tight..” he groaned. His hips thrusting up into you as you let out lewd noises for him. He grabbed your face and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“God please- fuck, I’m close, Shiggy!” you whined under him, twitching with your back arched and a tit in his mouth. The thoughts that filled his mind went directly to his cock. Shigaraki humped his hand, wishing it could be you, waiting for when it was you. Maybe you’d even fuck on this couch, who knows. He quickly finished and made sure to leave nothing behind before heading out and staking out behind the bushes again.

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You throw yourself on the couch as always, sitting where he sat just an hour ago. You made yourself some tea as you turned the tv on. It wasn’t too late, meaning Shigaraki could watch you for a bit.

A little later, you make yourself dinner. You take the trash out and leave it by the road. Shigaraki, being the weirdo he is, makes his way across the street, dangerously close to your front window, to snoop through your trash. There had to be something good in there. . He rummaged through your trash to find empty take out containers, some paper, and- chapstick? He wasn’t big on using it himself, but if it was yours, it was automatically going on his lips. He thought of it like an indirect kiss from his one and only. It had a taste of sweet strawberries, probably what you would taste like if he ever had the chance to kiss you. One day, he keeps telling himself. He pulls out his phone to check your room cameras and he sees you starting up your pc. Right! You asked to game with him earlier! Shigaraki raced back home to load his game, praying he would find you in one of the local servers. There was FlameThrower2050 , TheRadicalDude , SuckItRight , and Shiro’sCloud online. You had to be the last one. He shot you a direct message, asking if you were up for a game, and you said yes. You actually said yes! Of course, you didn’t know it was him. You went into a private lobby and you turned on your headset. “Hey, can you hear me?” you asked innocently. Your pure voice went right through his heart. “Uh yeah, you sound great,” he blurts out. “Oh, Shigaraki?” you remembered his name?! This left him ecstatic. The game starts and you play a few rounds, Shigaraki being in heaven. You ended up beating him. In every. Single. Round. A bit embarrassing for him, but you laughed it off and didn’t make fun of him for it. Oddly, that stuck with him. You were so nice the whole time- he couldn’t wait to talk to you at work tomorrow!

It was getting late, which is why you had to go, which also meant Shigaraki got to watch you on the cameras. He pulled out his phone, switching to the view of your bed. You crawled in with just panties and an oversized shirt on, how cute. You scrolled on your phone for a little, until it dropped on your chest and you fell asleep. Your phone battery is gunna die, silly… Shigaraki thinks to himself. He could always go over and plug it in for you. No! That was too dangerous!! What if you wake up when he’s standing over you? Certainly that’s not a good impression to leave. He argues with himself for a bit before he’s out of the house, running down the street. His feet carry him all the way back to your place. He grabs the key and goes for the door. It was unlocked. You left it unlocked for him? How nice of you! He sneaks in and Shiro is quick to jump on him. Shiro took quite a liking to him. He tiptoed over to your room, looking at your sleeping body through the door crack. He opened the door slightly, going in and looming over you. He pried the phone from out of your hands and plugged it in for you. You would thank him later; tomorrow! When you’d see him next. Shigaraki zoned out, watching you sleep soundly for a good hour, stealing pictures of you while you were snoring, and getting a quick sniff of your hair. He had stayed there a lot longer than intended, the sun starting to rise. He snuck out of your room and locked the door on his way out.

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“Oh, hey!” Shigaraki hears your pleasant voice call out to him from the counter. “Last night was a lot of fun; how about we play again tonight?” you ask him. He immediately says yes, his heart doing flips in his chest. This was the start of something good.

#shigaraki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere #stalker shigaraki #an unhealthy obsession #no smut #drabble #shigarakithirst

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distracteddegenerate · 4 years ago

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Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view.

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station.

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you.

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?”

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?!

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently.

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls.

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts.

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating.

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.”

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants.

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily.

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily.

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying.

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations.

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face. “Desperately. I know you did.”

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick.

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently.

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

#jjk #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuta x reader #reader x jjk #jjk x reader #dark jjk #period sex #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #tw.yandere #tw.blood #tw.periods #tw.dubcon #smut #jjk smut

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loverofpiggies · 3 years ago

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Life Update! And Conventions coming back!

Hey guys! So as I sorta said in my last post in the tags, I’ve been taking a lot of time for myself and my mental health, and staying away from social media-esque things. It’s good I have- despite how hard the pandemic has been overall, the last two months have been impossibly hard for me. I won’t go into detail, but it’s like I was getting hit from every direction, and barely avoiding drowning. I’ve been desperately trying to hold it together- just a little longer, just a little more! Even with how horrible it’s been lately.

So, yes, I’m doing loads better. And being away from social media and tumblr and stuff, has definitely taken off a lot of the pressure for me. I want to work on comics when I’m excited about them, and it’s nice to not feel like I have to live up to some crazy standard- that yeah, I partly built for myself.

Not having a private discord or anything like that has been so nice as well. I’m just using it to throw memes at friends and chat.

In some genuinely good news though, I’ve been fully vaccinated for a few weeks now, and now that the pandemic is slowing down in the US, conventions are coming back. I have no clue what the events will look or feel like when they do, but they’re back. All of my conventions which normally spread through the year, are now scrunched up together in summer and fall-- so it’s going to be absolute madness.

Here are my 2021 shows!

June 25-27, Albuquerque Comic Con (New Mexico) July 2-4, Anime Midwest (Chicago, IL) July 9-11, Indypop Con (Indianapolis, IN) July 23-25, Metro Con (Tampa, FL) July 30- Aug 1, Anime Iowa (Coralville, IA) Aug 20-22, Planet Comic Con Kansas City (Missouri) Aug 27-29, Colorado Springs Comic Con (Colorado) Sep 3-6, Saboten (Phoenix, AZ) Sep 10-12, El Paso Comic Con (El Paso, TX) Sep 16-18, Salt Lake Comic Con (Salt Lake City, UT) Oct 30-31, Arctic Comic Con (Anchorage, AK) Nov 5-7, Rhode Island Comic Con (Providence, RI)

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

This schedule is easily going to be my most insane I’ve ever had. Some of those shows, are five shows in a ROW. Absolute insanity. I promised myself I’d never allow that to happen, but now I got no choice. I’ve been keeping my stock of items pretty low through the whole pandemic, sales on etsy has luckily been able to pay my bills but just barely, so my stock reflects that. So I just had to do some HUGE orders on acrylic keychains and stuff, so I’m actually properly stocked for all these events. That means I’ve had to put myself into some serious debt before these conventions, so I could actually have enough stuff to sell and not be sold out immediately. Because of that, finances are real tight until Albuquerque Comic Con, so I’ve been considering opening up commissions to cushion myself between now and then. Also, if you’re interested in checking out my etsy shop, it’s over here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/CrayonQueenCreations the sales really do save my butt lately, but never feel like you have to.

(There are technically custom keychain commissions on my etsy too, which people have really seemed to like!)

Anyway, yes I’m just trying to stay afloat and holding off for conventions returning. I’m doing some delivery in my area to help with the bills as well, but it’s not as much cushion as I’d like. So, yeah! Would anyone be interested in me opening up like 5 slots of commissions?

#cqchat #conventions #boy howdy #feeling a lot better though and i have athena by my side #i love this funky little dog

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americasmarauders · 4 years ago

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in your eyes - Bucky Barnes

author’s note: so remember when I said I wouldn’t write Bucky anymore, only that one time? yeah, so I said, you know, like a liar. I saw the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier and that was all it took for me to fall into the ‘bucky barnes simp’ hole all over again. I made an entire one shot based on a single piece of a dialogue from the first episode. the story starts right before the first episode and ends right after the last. I spend an entire month and a half working on this please give it some love.(pls reblog i beg of you) Huge thanks to @batarella and @glorified-red for beta-ing this. ily <3 hwo knows, if people love it enough I might give a part 2.

summary: her quiet job in the library got louder when Bucky walked into her life. (Bucky Barnes x telepath!librarian!reader)

WARNINGS: i do write a bit about addiction in this, if it makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. it’s not heavy, or graphic, but the reader does experience abstinence. be warned. no spoilers for tfatws, but i do reccomend you watching it.

words: 11,416

mastelist

It was all so loud usually. When she first discovered her ability, it was like there were suddenly a thousand voices yelling inside her head all at once. She remembered falling to her knees, clutching her ears and crying out as the voices shouted different things at her.

Then the Professor came, promised her to help control her own mind. She didn’t want to trust the guy, even if he said he had the same power as her--even if he said everything would be alright. But the headaches were getting worse, the voices were getting louder and louder. She took him up on it and left her home to live in his boarding school.

She met interesting people and--at the end of her stay--she achieved what she was there for. It took 4 years of her life, constant nightmares from reading too much of her colleagues' minds, and several isolated afternoons - more than she wanted to admit. Nevertheless, she could finally go to a concert or have a normal college class without crying from pain.

She lived a normal life after her time at the Institute. She mostly ignored how her teenage years were far from the ordinary, or how sometimes she could hear a random thought from the person sitting next to her if the thought was loud enough. There were days when everything got too much, days where she lost control. She would stay in her house with noise cancelling headphones on (even if it didn’t work like that, it somehow helped) just going on throughout her day as quietly as possible. Tom knew she would get sick, even if working at the library rarely made her go into her lockdown modes.

The library calmed her in a way. The thoughts were rarely disordered and loud, more focused and quiet. It fascinated her that even in their thoughts, people respected the quiet environment the library required. But sometimes, someone would appear with a troubled mind, something books couldn’t even soothe.

There was a regular now, he was one of those people whose thoughts were always all over the place; she couldn’t pick them apart, words would fly through her head - words she often associated with the book he was reading. She wouldn’t know, it was Nancy that talked to him most times.

He always sat at the same old, worn out armchair, talking with the older people in the library as if they were the only people he was comfortable with. Sometimes, she would be restocking the books and see him looking at old newspapers. She never got the courage to talk to him. She figured her curiosity wasn’t enough to muster up the bravery needed to utter a word to him.

Tom was on leave that day. He was stalling his doctor’s appointment, telling her his back pain wasn’t that serious, but she knew better. Every so often she would hear a whisper of pain in her head and she knew her boss wasn’t alright. It had taken her months, but she finally convinced Tom to go and get his back looked at.

So she was working the counter that day: checking books off, admitting them, and then separating them so she could reshelve the books the next day. It was pretty boring work, repetitive, and she wondered how Tom kept busy all day when she finished all of her chores in a couple of hours.

“Excuse me,” she heard, standing up as a reflex. Her eyes trailed up to the person standing in front of the main desk. It was the Loud Man (that was what she had taken to calling him). “I want to check this off.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathless. She was hearing too much from him, too many random words. It made her feel dizzy. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

She took the book from his hands, her fingers brushing slightly at his leather gloves, her thoughts suddenly got even more flooded at the slight touch. She could feel a rising nervousness in him, so much it blended with her own nerves. She quickly retrieved her hand, hoping she hadn’t seemed impolite.

She sat back at her chair, looking at the book. “The Hobbit, huh?”

“I’m re-reading it,” he said, his eyes sincere, “I read it when it first came out.”

She looked at him funnily. “You read it in 1937?”

His expression froze, the slight smile morphing into a frown, his loud thoughts got louder with a single word: ‘lie’. “That’s a funny joke.”

She smiled at him, not taking his comment too seriously. “I’m a funny gal.”

He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was like he was only checking off a box of social convention. It quickly faded to an impatient expression, and she could tell he wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he mentioned.

“Oh,” she muttered, “I’m usually reshelving things, Tom operates the front desk but he went to the doctor. I’m the only other person who works here, so,” she trailed off, “I’m Y/N.”

“Bucky,” he responded, his face slightly tensed. His eyes hovered over everything in the library, as if he was trying to find something wrong in it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky," she handed the book back to him. "It's due next week. Don't be late with it.”

“I'll return it tomorrow,” the words slipped from his mouth.

“Fast reader?” she asked.

“Got nothing else to do,” he shrugged, the word ‘lie’ once again swimming in her head in the mess of thoughts she received from him.

He gave her one last smile and disappeared into the library. His thoughts got distant, but they lingered in her head. Flashes of pain, bright white lights, and screams littered her mind. She shook her head trying to get rid of them. It rarely worked, not with thoughts so persistent.

Her head started to pound as the thoughts got more intense somehow. That never happened before, usually she could only hear people that stood near her and she was sure Bucky walked all the way to the back - he wasn’t close to her in any way.

Her hand shook as she fished out her headphones. She put them on and connected them with her phone. Playing her music was a hopeful distraction, detering her brain enough to quiet down everything. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, just like the Professor had taught her. He used to say a quiet and strong mind was the key to ward off stray thoughts.

It helped clear the thoughts, the mess of words only leaving whispers of broken thoughts in the way. She grabbed those and put them away, shoving them inside a mental box of lost thoughts. She did that with all the others, it helped keep her mind organized.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. She always took too much time clearing her mind, she would forget the outside world. Peter used to poke fun at her for that, drawing penises on her face. When she came to her senses she would always run after him, ready to tackle him to the ground. It was always useless: you can't outrun Peter.

She noticed Bucky leaning on the frame of the front door. It was getting darker outside, an orange hue illuminating his eyes perfectly. Her breath hitched for a second before recomposing herself.

“Good nap?” he asked, the smallest smirk on his lips.

“I wasn’t napping,” she smiled, shaking her head. She checked the clock and saw it was way past closing time. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he had gone out of his way to stay with her when he should have gone home. “Why’d you stay?”

“Everyone left,” he said, “and I thought it wasn’t safe to leave you in a trance alone in an empty library.”

“I wasn’t in a trance,” she took her headphones off, resting them around her neck, “I was… clearing my head.”

He looked at her funnily, “Busy day?”

“It’s been weirder than usual,” she responded, smiling. She sat back down and logged off the system.

“How weird is working in a library?”

She scoffed, lighty. “You have no idea,” she smiled mischievously.

She picked up her things, keys in her hand. She left the front desk, going to Bucky’s side. “Thanks for staying,” she said, “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” his hand brushed the back of his neck with a timid smile, very unlike his general physique and stance, “I had nowhere else to go.”

She could feel his thoughts bubbling underneath her skin, wanting to come out and flood her brain with confusing images and words. Whispers of faint words echoed through her mind, soft enough that she couldn’t distinguish what they were.

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, words slipping out of her mouth faster than she could stop it. Old habits she supposed. She could always keep thoughts of other people to herself, it didn’t seem fair to them she could hear their thoughts, the least she could do was keep them to herself. But when it came to her own, they just came out of her mouth before her conscience could stop her. “I mean,” she started, “a guy like yourself - good looking and all - must get a lot of people just, um, throwing themselves at you.”

He breathed out, an awkward expression on his face. She could hear one word clearly: ‘lie’. “I don’t date a lot,” he stated, “Not really my thing.”

She changed her approach to the conversation, sensing the uncomfortable energy he oozed. “Oh,” she muttered, “It’s okay, I mean, I don’t date a lot either. I barely leave my flat actually,” she brushed a single piece of hair out of her face, “I hate crowded spaces, and I have just the weirdest habits. You know, not a lot of people are into women who work at a library and barely make minimum wage,” she mumbled, her hands in her pockets restraining her hands for gesturing too much just like she always did, “I have a lot of issues too, at least that’s what the Professor used to say to my therapist before each session, which is fair and--oh God, I’m sorry, I just rambled.”

He chuckled (an actual chuckle), a full light-hearted laugh, one that rumbled throughout his chest. “It’s fine,” he said, “I like listening to you talk.”

She heard the words ‘like’ and ‘quiet’ shoot through her mind. She smiled at him shyly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she laughed awkwardly, “Thank you again, for waiting and being, I don’t know, just nice, I guess.”

He smiled, a slightly bigger smile then he had given her the entire time they’d interacted. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, “No problem.”

Both of them walked out the door. She turned and locked it, then pushed a button that activated the security systems of the building. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said whilst shrugging.

“Yeah, yeah,” he went down a few steps of the main staircase. “I’ll see, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She saw him go down the steps, listening to the faint echoes of his thoughts in her head. She felt the tips of her mouth curl up, watching him go as the sun set on the horizon. She hadn’t felt that before, that sense of mystery, of wonder and curiosity. His mind was in shambles, broken pieces of it laying in every corner of his brain, and she heard all of it. It compelled her, even if it felt completely wrong to be so enthralled by someone’s mind.

She felt inadequate for liking his mind when he didn’t even know she could listen to it. It wasn’t the first time she felt that way. She remembered a boy from the shop near the Institute, she loved hearing his thoughts. She rarely left the Institute, but when she did she would always sneak to the store to buy a popsicle as an excuse to admire him. Sometimes he would smile at her and her brain would malfunction for just a second, his thoughts flooding her and overwhelming her every time that happened.

She anticipated it was only a matter of time before that happened with Bucky again. She didn’t exactly know if that was a good thing, if she should indulge in the latent curiosity and table herself further with his mind - with him.

The sun set in the horizon, the orange glow fading to the blue of the night sky. Walking down the streets, she could still hear remnants of his thoughts inside her head, his imprint already set on her. She wondered how long it would take for it to fade, if it would fade and if she wanted it to. #

He gave her one last look before walking away from her. She could feel him uncomfortable, it lingered in her head longer than it should. He lingered in her more than he should. Her eyes followed him on his way out of the library. His mind was confused and tired, it left a trail of breadcrumbs calling for her to solve the mystery that was.

Tom’s doctor ordered maximum rest. Apparently, the problem in his back was more serious than both of them anticipated. The doctor ordered as much rest as Tom could have, meaning more breaks and leaving early. That also meant she had to do double the work - she wouldn’t mind at all had she not left a pile of returned books to shelve.

She put her headphones and drove the cart full of books through the library all afternoon. Usually not a lot of people came in on a Monday afternoon to check out books, most were local teens that were there to study or make out. She always pretended not to know which ones were there to actually study or not; the thoughts always flew out to her when they were there to snog, most times it was hard to contain the shit-eating grin that would want to rise.

She felt someone touching her shoulder. She jumped slightly, startled at the touch. Turning around, she saw Bucky, his thoughts overwhelming her. She rested the headphones around her neck, pulling out her phone to pause the music. “Hey, Bucky,” she breathed out, trying to contain the images and words in her head, “What are you, um, how you doing?”

“I’m good,” he smiled at her, looking down at the ground, “Um, Tom’s not at the front desk and I gotta return the book.”

“Oh yeah,” she took the book from his hand. It was still warm from his touch, “I thought you wouldn’t come today, to be honest.”

“I said I was,” he looked at her intensely, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Well,” she smiled awkwardly and averted her eyes to the ground, “People sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

She didn’t realise what she said until it was out of her mouth. She remembered how he was uncomfortable around her, and how he would think about lies just as he told her something. Embarrassment flooded her senses, she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

He looked at her weirdly, as if he was analyzing her. The more he looked, the more she listened to his mind. Words of suspicion floated around, she swallowed dryly and nervously at the thoughts. Echoes of screams and a crushing sense of guilt came through, she wondered what had happened for him to think of that. She wondered if she was the one person that caused him to think like that.

“I’ll return it for you,” she said, motioning for the book, trying to get the attention off of her.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “D’you mind if I get another?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said, “I’ll wait for you - at the front desk, I mean,” backing away from him, she accidentally bumped into a bookshelf, “Not, um, not any other way.”

He stared at her and nodded slightly. She turned around and walked to the front desk, cringing at her inability to mutter coherent words to him without stumbling in the middle of a phrase. Something about him made her lose all of her composure, she didn’t know if it was the constant flood of thoughts and memories she listened to from his mind or just him making her nervous.

She sat down at the chair behind the front desk, and rubbed her face, as if it would rub the embarrassment out of her. Sighing, she returned the book for Bucky. Just as the day before, his thoughts lingered in her head, images that meant very little to her were calling out.

“Why’s Tom not here?” he asked. She looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing through her. It was the first time she noticed his eyes, and somehow, it made everything worse. Instead of whispers, she heard everything clearly. Fools said the eyes were the windows to the soul. She knew better: someone’s eyes told her what they were thinking, what they were feeling. And she could tell Bucky felt a lot.

“Um,” she looked back down to the book she just admitted back, moving it to the pile of books to reshelve. “He’s on leave, doctor’s orders.”

“Back pain was somethin’ serious then?” he responded, handing the new book to her.

“Yeah, I told him to get that checked out, turns out I was right,” she shrugged, getting the book, her eyes still fixated on the computer. She felt the leather of his gloves graze the tips of her fingers, and a searing pain shot through her head. She brought the book down to the table, closing her eyes hoping the pain would stop. “Brave New World? Revisiting the classics, huh?” she struggled to keep a whimper from emerging from her mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She heard a whisper of concern run though his head, “Um, are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

She shook her head, faking a smile, pretending she wasn’t getting a thousand thoughts from everyone in the library- especially Bucky’s thoughts - blasted at maximum volume on the speakers of her mind. “Just a bit of a headache.”

“It looks serious,” she could hear the leather from his gloves squeaking as he rested his hands on top of the counter.

“I’ll be fine,” she gritted through her teeth. It had been years since she was last in a position like that, her head throbbing with thoughts that weren’t hers. “I have these all the time.”

She heard his thoughts of concern louder than the others. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She dismissed his question, not wanting to dwell on his concern longer. “Here,” she handed the book back to him, her other hand closed in a fist, “it’s due next week. Don’t be late with it.”

“I won’t,” he said, his tone slightly strained. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she shook her head, her eyes closed and teeth gritted, choosing not to question how he would return that book tomorrow. She fisted both of her hands, her fingernails sinking in the skin of her hands. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she whispered to herself.

She heard his footsteps moving away from her, she sighed in relief, hoping it would mean her mind was going to calm itself and the headache would fade. Instead, the footsteps grew closer to her once again and then the leather of his gloves was grazing the skin of her arm, helping her stand up and guiding her somewhere.

“Imma take you to the hospital, doll” Bucky stated, not leaving room for discussion.

“No,” she tried to shake off his hold, “My shift’s not over, I can’t leave.”

“You look terrible, and you’re clearly in a lot of pain,” he grabbed her arm again, “You need to go to a doctor.”

“Doctors won’t solve this,” she once again freed herself of his hold taking a step back from him. More of his thoughts flooded her mind, a mess of memories and guilt overwhelming her. “They never solve anything,” she breathed out, her voice breaking, “I just need to rest.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his tone temptive and careful.

“No doctors,” it was the first time she had looked in his eyes willingly. There was a sort of weird determination in her eyes, one that came with years of terrible experiences with doctors. Hundreds of appointments that left her more desperate than before, endless tests and thoughts heard that she didn’t have any fix, as if she was broken in the first place.

His jaw tightened and his intense eyes fell upon hers. Her throat dried up under his gaze, her head unbearably heavy with his thoughts and hers. “Fine,” he growled, his hands moving to the pockets of his jacket, “Fine.”

“I need to go back to work,” she backed away from him, slowly. “I--I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure why she was apologizing to him.

“It’s okay,” his jaw was still tight, his eyes were still intense lingering at her. She couldn’t even appreciate his gaze at her, and how if she was a normal person,--if she didn’t have that goddamn gene--she would have let her heart skip a beat and feel coy under his gaze. “It’s your choice.”

There was a stubbornness to his stance, something that told her he wouldn’t be backing down so easily. She couldn’t go to any doctor, she couldn’t risk anyone finding out. She didn’t want to go through the tests and the never-ending questions, whether it was out loud or not. There was only one person who could possibly help her, and she refused to go to him.

She backed away from him quickly, turning around and heading to the front desk once again. Her headphones found their way to her ears, and she started to blast her music at full volume, hoping, or rather praying, it would help ease her headache. She put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed the book she had just returned.

The cart wove between the shelves with ease under her direction. She could still feel Bucky’s presence within the library, it was like carrying an iron ball tied to her feet at all times. Unlike the day before, he was more troubled, he felt more things and more intensely. It was too much. She wondered what happened for him to be so restless.

The music hardly helped, it somehow made it worse. She couldn’t shake the tangled thoughts and think for herself, and the music disturbed even more. She dropped her headphones, frustrated. Her head pounded, desperation rose in her. She refused to call Professor, he would not help, he would only rub in her face that she shouldn’t have left. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed at the Institute, Y/N,’ she could imagine him saying if she closed her eyes.

“Are you better?” turning around, she saw Bucky, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. His eyes were focused down, his shoulder slightly hunched. It looked like he was ashamed of asking her if she was alright, almost as if it was his fault that she was in pain. It was, but she didn’t hold it against him. She was certain it wasn’t his fault.

“Not really,” looking at him, she analyzed his expression. His jaw was tense, she could see his hands were fisted inside his pockets, “I just need to sleep.”

He nodded slightly. “You sure you don’t want anythin’?”

Her head tilted slightly and her mouth quirked up a little. She could tell he wanted to charm her, she heard the word bounce around her head faintly--the guilt was louder, though she could barely hear anything else--and she would lie if she said she didn’t like his attention. “I am” her hands entangled together, her knuckles tight, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah, yeah” he breathed out, his hand brushing the side of his leg in a nervous habit. “I need to go,” he pointed back at the door, his face stony.

She sat cross legged on her bed, her eyes closed. There were candles around the room, the lighting dim and warm. The smell of incense was strong, it swallowed the entire room. It was necessary, she needed that to ground herself to the real world, and not lose herself in her mind.

Since calling Professor was not an option, she tried to take matters into her own hands. She was going to untangle the knot of thoughts Bucky had left in her head by herself. It could potentially be dangerous, if she wandered too far who knows what could happen. She had taken the necessary precautions, but she had only done that before under the careful and judgemental eye of the Professor. It was the first time she was doing it alone, it scared her to think what could go wrong.

She breathed in calmly and concentrated on the knot in front of her. Her head was a whole other world, it could be molded to her will, she felt safe in it. Now, it was a black empty space, the only thing filling it was herself and the pulsating mess of thoughts Bucky had gifted her.

Kneeling in front of it, she carefully picked apart superficial thoughts, setting them aside. They didn’t matter to what she was there to do, they were only random words and snippets of his day-to-day life that she was sure were not the ones causing him so much pain.

It didn’t take long for her to reach what pained him. It was surprising to see the amount of thoughts in front of her, usually it was much less. People tended to blow things out of proportion often, little things could cause a world of hurt to themselves. Bucky seemed to take a lot of pain, underestimating his grief. A typical mentality of someone who lacked the confidence, who didn’t trust themselves enough.

She picked a single memory and entered it.

The lighting was dim, a yellow glow swallowed her. The room was dirty and disgusting, the tiles that were once white tinted an yellowish gray. It looked like a room used for medical procedures, judging by the sheer amount of medical-like instruments littered around the desks. There were no calendars in sight, she had no way of knowing when the memory had happened.

There were at least 5 or 6 people in the room, all surrounding a metallic chair. She approached the scene, carefully. Standing beside the chair, she saw Bucky.

He couldn’t be much older than he was when she met him. His hair was slightly longer than it was currently, just brushing his forehead. He was shirtless, his skin glistening in the faint lighting of the room. His hand was tied to the chair. His temples bruised from something she hadn’t figured out yet. His chest moved violently, struggling to breathe properly. And his left shoulder? There was a red swollen scar there. She doubted the wound was fresh, more like reopened. Maybe they tried putting a prosthetic there and it failed. It was likely they hadn’t administered any painkillers in the procedure, and she felt anger boiling inside her at the thought.

“James Barnes, 3255...” he trailed off, muttering under his breath. His eyes were halfway closed, it looked like he barely could keep them opened.

“Попробуй снова,” try again, one of the doctors said.

Her eyes lingered on the doctor that had just spoken. He looked evil, and she felt in her bones he was. His smile was wicked as his eyes lingered on Bucky struggling to catch his breath tied to that chair. All of the doctors looked sadistic and malefic. She felt goosebumps flood her skin, disgusted by the situation.

The machine started whirling. An appendix lowered into Bucky’s left eye, another lowering to his right temple. Someone put a protection on his mouth, and she could see Bucky trying to free himself from his ties. Something told her, even in an altered state of mind he was already conditioned to know that noise and that feeling were bad news. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to hers just before everything started.

The screams - his screams - bounced on the walls and filled her soul in a terrifying way. Tears came to her eyes as she carefully studied what was happening to him. His hands formed fists, his knuckles totally pale on his flesh hand. His eyes were shut violently, his mouth open in a painful way. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to hug him and take him out of that awful place, but she couldn't. It was all a memory, it already had happened and she couldn’t do anything about it.

The doctors recited words in russian repetitively. Her eyes traveled to the doctor holding a red notebook. The wicked smile never faltered, completely ignoring the man in pain in front of him. She felt a urge she had fought so hard to suppress: she wanted to invade their brains, pick them apart and tear them down from the inside. She wanted to scream and shout at them and destroy everything in the room with a single thought. The fact that she was inside a memory and couldn’t physically change anything bothered her little. The anger and sadness she felt were real.

The machine stopped humming and Bucky stopped screaming. When he opened his eyes, she saw something that utterly terrified her. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, very much unlike mere seconds before. They were wide open, focused forward, looking beyond the doctor that was hovering over him.

“Soldat?” one of the doctors asked, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

“Готовы соответствовать,” ready to comply.

The room became blurry and she was sucked out of the memory. She stood there in front of the knot of thoughts. A feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed her, and she willed herself out of her own mind. She shouldn’t have done that, not without his permission. He didn’t even know she could hear his thoughts, much less explore the memories he had left with her.

She gasped for air as she came back to her senses. Bucky was much more complicated than she had anticipated, and the guilt he carried around with him wasn’t blown out of proportion and unwarranted. He felt as if things he had done, whatever those things were, had been his responsibility. But she knew more about the mind than him, she knew that that person she had watched be tortured was not him. Those eyes told her nothing, and his eyes told her everything and more. Those eyes were from someone who was a puppet, stripped of free will and agency. So maybe his guilt was warranted, but it didn’t mean it was his fault.

She rubbed her face and laid in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart raced inside her chest, the adrenaline of doing something so wrong settling on her. She would have to be honest with him. She let a shuddery breath, as she realized she was at the point she avoided when meeting people. The fear of rejection was crushing and familiar and with time she realized it was easier to push people away, not forming connections deeper than trivial than to explain what she was. But Bucky was different, she felt it in her bones. And she wasn’t willing to let him go. #

Tuesdays were fuller than Mondays, but only slightly. Maybe one or two more students came in, trying to get ahead of the curve and not procrastinate their studies more than necessary. The amount of work she had was enough to keep her busy throughout the day, even without Tom’s help.

She hummed the song in her headphones, weaving her way through the shelves, puting the few books that were returned that day back where they belonged. It was the part of her job that gave her the most pleasure. It gave her a sense of control and order, something that had lacked almost her entire life, especially while she was at the Institute. Professor had controlled everything back then. He controlled her and Peter and all the others to be something that most would not have chosen to be if given the choice. It made her feel helpless and tiny. But she had freed herself from that reality, much to Professor’s dislike. And now she could happily find her control in tiny things, like putting books back on their shelves.

“How come I always come when no one’s at the front desk?”, her headphones fell to her neck as she turned around to look at Bucky. He wore a shy smile on his face, clutching two books tightly in his gloved hands. His thoughts were quieter that day, but still present and loud. She doubted it was enough to give her a headache, but it was enough to leave a mark on her mind.

“Well, I’d say it’s just your luck,” the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Wanna check those out?” she pointed at the books in his hands.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She started walking towards the front desk, Bucky at her tail. “So, are you better?”

“Yep,” she nodded, getting behind the desk and taking the books out of his hands, “Told you I just needed to rest.”

“Doll,” his head tilted, his eyes carefully analyzing her. She heard worry bounce around his head, “you looked like you were about to drop dead.”

She shook her head, a smile creeping its way to her face. “It’s more common than you think, it’s fine, Bucky, really,” dismissing his worry, like it was the best way to earn his trust. “For whom the Bells tolls? Really diving into the classics, huh?”

“Need some comfort,” he shrugged. “It’s been 80 years since I read these, it felt like the time to re-read.”

“80 years,” she dragged, “You look a lot younger.”

His face became briefly stony, his brain going haywire for a second before he relaxed and gave her an awkward laugh. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re not in pain.”

“Aren’t we all?” she slid the book over to him. “It’s due next week, don’t b--”

“Be late with it, I know,” he completed, “I’ll return it tomorrow. Like always”

She heard words of charm and flattery from his mind. It was a timid voice saying it, if she had been distracted she wouldn’t have heard it. Her eyes trailed downwards, her smile tiny and shy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re lying.”

“How’d you know better?” his eyes narrowed at her and his head tilted to the side. She found it absolutely charming that he did that when he was confused.

“I read minds,” she said, seriously, her face impartial, very much unlike mere seconds before.

“That’s funny,” he laughed, pointing at her.

She opened an awkward smile at him, looking carefully at his expression. His mind told her he thought she was pranking him, being funny to charm him. She wasn’t. “I know you think I’m trying to charm you,” her eyes looking at her feet, her fingers entwined in a nervous habit, “but I’m not,” she finished, whispering.

She could hear confusion clearly in his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly at how she could read his mind, more to why she was telling him the fact. “I can hear your thoughts very clearly, they’re very loud,” she whispered. After all these years of experience with this power, it never got easier telling people about it. “And I didn’t think it was fair to listen to your thoughts - you think a lot you know? - all so loudly and clearly,” She couldn’t look at him, her eyes were still cast downwards in shame, “If you want to, I can explain how it is, we can go for a walk or whatever.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her skin, she didn’t dare to look up. Disappointment was one of the things she hated the most, one she had dealt with a lot. Seeing it in his face would surely break her heart, even if only a little bit. “Fine,” she heard him say it, airly, “But you’re paying.”

She looked up and his expression was impassive. But his eyes were twinkling with a sort of curiosity and wonder that could only mean good things. A weird sort of relief washed over her. She let out a sigh, her features relaxing. “Great,” she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “great,” she breathed out, “I just need to close this place.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Tell me what that boy’s thinking,” he said, pointing to a little boy by the pond feeding the ducks happily.

Her eyes trailed to the kid, trying to focus on him. It was an exercise she hadn’t done in a while, since she had left the Institute really. “He’s happy he’s with his dad,” she reported, “he doesn’t see his dad often and he misses him.”

“What about the dad?” his hands were in his pockets, his gaze locked on the dad sat on the bench just behind the kid.

“He’s guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his son,” she added, her eyes following the posture of the man. His eyes were fixed on his son, watching his every move. It was clear he felt some sort of guilt towards his son, and it was easy to assume that by his stance alone--if you were observant enough. Bucky was, “He works two jobs to pay the child support. He can’t find time between them often.”

“How do I know that you didn’t just meet those people and they told you their life story?” Bucky questioned, his gaze intense and locked on her. They stopped beneath a tree, orange sun rays peeking from between the leaves.

“It’s the first time I've ever seen them,” she plopped down beneath the tree, crossing her legs childishly, “I barely leave my apartment.”

He stared at her, his gaze strong and judgmental. Huffing, he calmly got down and sat beside her, his legs spread out in front of him. He crossed his hands on his lap, and her gaze locked at his left hand. She wondered if the arm was still the same as the one she had seen in his memory. That arm sent chills down her spine, it was intimidating and terrifying, the red star staring at her menacingly. “Why, though?”

“I can’t, really,” she shrugged. She looked up, her head tilting to the side, considering her words. “I have these lockdowns when I’m surrounded by too many people. It hasn’t happened in years but,” her eyes closed, the memories of the last lockdown she had flooding back at her. She saw her younger self falling to her knees in the middle of the Institute’s lobby, screaming and clutching her ears, “but it happens, and I’d rather not go through that. I’m not in speaking terms with the person that can help me and I’ll do anything to not talk to him again.”

His lips formed a thin line. A hum trembled his chest, his head resting on the tree behind them. “How much have you seen from…” his jaw clenched, his voice quiet and hesitant.

“Not much,” she dragged. “I stopped after I realized that I, um, that I was…”she found she couldn’t complete the sentence under his strong gaze. “It wasn’t fair to you for me to see anything, not without you knowing.”

“What did you see?” he gritted through his teeth, his eyes watery and sad.

“I saw,” she gulped, her voice straining with emotion as she looked deep into his eyes, “I saw you, um, tied to a chair. You were so out of it,” she shook her head, tears flooding her eyes, “you were mumbling your name and some numbers. And then,” she sighed, picking up strength to continue, “and then they - they broke you.”

“What else?” he growled, his hands in fists. His eyes were no longer sad, there was a latent anger in them. It made her sad that she was the cause of his anger, or rather the target.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “nothing else. Nothing other than random words from your day to day.”

He considered her for a moment, his eyes hovering her face frantically. She tried her best not to listen to his mind, trying to focus on elsewhere, on someone else. But he was like a magnet, and she could help but to be attracted to him and his thoughts. Words of confusion, anger and infatuation floated in his brain and echoed in hers. “Can you turn it off? Your...thing?” he pointed to her head almost in disdain. She knew better than to believe his gestures.

“Not exactly,” she hugged her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “If I could, I would have, a long time ago.”

They remained in silence after that. He looked at the clouds, considering everything she had just told him. She looked everywhere but at him, trying to stray her mind from him. It felt impossible, he became her gravity center, and she couldn’t really escape it. She found that she didn’t want to.

“How did you get the…” he tried to find the right words, “the mind reading thing?”

She laughed at his silly phrasing. “I was born with it,” she looked down at her hands, her cheeks feeling hot. “Professor picked me up and took me to the Institute after I turned 13 because of it.”

“That sounds like a cute way of saying you were kidnapped by the guy,” he commented, his tone serious and his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t,” she tilted her head towards him, as if she was telling him a secret. “I went willingly, actually. The nightmares were getting worse and the headaches,” her eyes locked with his for a brief second as she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “well, headaches like yesterday’s are light ones compared to those. And the Professor, he promised to help me control it.”

“That doesn't sound suspicious at all,” she could hear him roll his eyes in disdain.

“He did help me,” she assured him, “but at the time, I didn't realize that it would come with a cost.”

“I’m guessing he wanted something out of you,” he inferred, “that you weren’t willing to give.”

“Something like that,” she responded, her voice vague and distant. Remembering the things Professor had planned for her made her scared and, most of all, angry. Angry he dared to think she would be so desperate to abide by his wishes. She had learned that following his plans brought her nothing more than frustration and loneliness, he robbed her and her friends of a stable childhood so they could become his pawns. “He wasn’t a good person.”

“I get that,” he whispered, his head down, looking at his hands. He opened and closed his left hand repetitively. The anger he had felt once she had told him what she had done came back, but directed towards someone else.

“Listen, Bucky,” she turned her whole body towards him. Her hands itched to grab his, but she knew neither of them were prepared to cross that line, “I’m truly sorry that I… couldn’t control myself. I figured that if I could decipher your thoughts the headaches would stop, but I didn’t realize how much you kept hidden,” she confessed, her fingers fiddling with themselves in a nervous habit. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, I want to give you a chance to tell me these things yourself, that’s why I told you.”

He looked at her for a moment before responding. “You told someone who you’d only known for a couple of days your biggest secret,” he recited, almost as if he had been rehearsing the line in his mind over and over, “because you felt bad.”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds foolish,” she grumbled. “I know what’s like not to be given a choice, and I wanted you to have the choice to, you know, walk away from me,” she finished, her voice just above a whisper. She struggled to keep her tears at bay, a couple of them spilling and running down her cheeks.

“Why would I walk away from you?” he asked her, sincerity in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the first person,” her eyes were cast forward, looking way beyond the park. She didn’t bother cleaning the tears that were rolling down her face. “And you wouldn’t be the last, certainly.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his voice low and beautiful, “I wouldn’t.”

She could barely hear his thoughts over her own. She couldn’t think straight anymore, too many emotions flooded her own senses, it was all too much. Her hands rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of the tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “But, seriously, don’t tell your biggest secret to someone you barely know.”

She laughed at his suggestion, her smile watery. “I won’t, don’t worry,” her head tilted to the side, her eyes carefully studying his face. It was the first time she truly took him in. His face was so wonderfully beautiful. His nose and his lips were perfect. But it was his eyes that would always fascinate her. So wonderfully blue and so beautifully deep. It was impossible to not fall in love with him with those eyes.

He got up and brushed his gloves on the sides of his pants. He offered her his right hand, “How’d you say we get that coffee now and you tell me the craziest things you’ve ever seen people think?”

She smiled sincerely at him, her eyes looking up at him in admiration. She took his hand and she let him guide her.

“Doll, you need to start staying at the front desk,” he leaned casually on the side of the bookcase, looking calmly at her as she turned around to face him. “What if someone important comes in and there’s no one there?

She felt amused at Bucky’s teasing and smiled. “Tom’s supposed to be there, he must have just left to do something,” she stated, smugly. “Besides, you’re the only important person that comes here. At least, to me you are,” she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

He bit his lip and looked at her in a way that made her melt. “Aren’t you a charmer.”

She could hear clearly in his thoughts he was amused by her behavior, the word ‘charm’ levitating around her brain. “I learned from the best,” she shrugged brushing past him and walking towards the front desk.

She heard his heavy footsteps behind her. “Are we still up for tonight?” his voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. She sat down on her chair behind the counter as her eyes carefully analyzed his face. His jaw was tense, his eyebrows were furrowed and his fingers were tight around the book he meant to return.

“I’ve been up for it every day for the past month, Bucky,” she narrowed her eyes at him. His jaw clenched even more in a way she didn’t know possible. She tried to ignore his thoughts and the words that bounced around her brain. “What are you trying to say?” she asked softly, taking the book from him gently.

He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter he leaned in. “Sam needs my help,” he said, his voice low and tired. She could tell he wasn’t telling her the full truth, but she didn’t push it.

“Oh,” she muttered, typing away to return the book he brought. “So you’re cancelling?”

“Doll, I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important,” he stated. She could tell he was sad, his eyes told her so, and so did the words in his head. It pained her to see him give up their time together. It was cherished by both, and she suspected it was maybe one of the only moments of the day Bucky didn’t have to hold everything in. Mostly because she could see everything he was hiding.

“Don’t,” she stopped him before he could further apologize. “I understand, an Avenger’s calling you,” she whispered, a devilish smile on her lips, “how could you not answer it?”

“I can think of a lot of ways,” he gritted. He had told her his qualms with Sam Wilson, but it only seemed like friendly teasing and nothing else. Nothing too serious, that's what she judged it to be.

“Bucky,” she warned him, “there are more important people than me, and Sam is definitely one of those. Don’t feel guilty, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Y/N,” he never used her first name. He would call her ‘doll’, or ‘love’ or even sometimes ‘sweetheart’, but never by her first name. Hearing it leave his lips sobered her up quickly, “there’s no one more important to me than you.”

Her mouth hung open in complete shock at his declaration. Her brain short-circuited for a moment, before recomposing herself. She opened her mouth to respond him but he quickly beat her to it.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he shook his head, his eyes cast downwards.

Her eyes hovered him quietly for a second before slipping the book to him. “I extended the due date. Two weeks and nothing more,” she said, sternly. “You know the drill, Bucky.”

“Don’t be late with it, I know,” he recited. His eyes lingered on hers for longer than it normally would. It felt as if he was memorizing her, studying the little details of her face, the little quirks of her personality. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, like every time she was under his intense gaze. He looked downwards for a moment, his mouth slightly opened. “I won’t be gone too long, just a couple of days.”

She got up from her chair and walked to his side. She bit her lip as he watched her go around the front desk. He leaned on his arm, casually standing there as she looked down at her feet in front of him. “You have my number, I’m just a phone call away,” she muttered shyly. She couldn’t handle this flirty interactions with Bucky. Mostly because she would have to juggle her own thoughts with his. But there was something about his demeanor at that moment that put her at ease, she didn’t feel the need to juggle both of their thoughts, only to embrace them. She let herself feel the butterflies and be fully flustered under his charm. It felt nice. “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” he looked at her eyes, deeply and soulfully. She didn’t know how she hadn’t melted at the spot. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I know,” her lips brushed his cheek. She quickly kissed it and looked back at him. “You should probably go. Don’t wanna keep Sam waitin’.”

He smiled at her one last time before leaving her. His smile, there was something different about that. It felt sincere and genuine, unlike all his other smiles that were usually caused by awkwardness and embarrassment. She had seen something completely different in that smile, something she couldn’t exactly place yet.

She arrived quietly at her apartment, carrying a bag full of groceries and flowers for her tiny garden out in the fire-escape. Her upstairs neighbor had complained about it for months, until he joined and now she shared it with him. She had plans to make the whole building to contribute to the little garden, she was almost convincing her downstairs neighbor and she was a pivotal person.

The apartment was too quiet, unlike normally. There were always whispers of her neighbor’s thoughts echoing through the walls, the busy sounds of the streets, the shouts outside from people going by their day.

“I know you’re here,” she shouted to her apartment, “you weren’t subtle about it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t talk to me, otherwise,” Professor rolled in. He hadn’t changed a single bit since the last time she had seen him. His clothes were the same, his bald head glistened the same way it did, and his chair was just as stoic as his face. She hated him and seeing him in her apartment only reminded her of that.

“That’s cause I don’t want to talk to you, Professor, I thought I had made myself clear,” she growled, resting the bag and the flowers on the kitchen counter. “Why are you here?”

“It has come to my knowledge you’ve been having your episodes,” he said, robotically.

“I’m not having any episodes, I'm fine” she muttered, her back turned to Professor. She cursed Peter mentally for being a fucking snitch. Next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

“You’re not,” he corrected her. As usual, she only heard him in a tone of superiority and condencense, he always knew best. “We know what happens when you let yourself go with other people’s thoughts, child.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gripped the counter, her teeth gritted and her eyes shut. Her hands felt clammy, almost slipping from the counter. She had escaped the Institute, she had sworn she would never go back, for fucking Peter to bring Professor to her again. She knew Peter did it because he was worried. It still didn’t make it sting less. “I said I’m fine, I have everything under control.”

“How long have you been taking the suppressing pills?” he asked her, his voice judgemental and cold.

She turned around to face him for the first time. He was impossible to read, he always made sure of that. As much as she begged him to teach her how to do it, to help her block out thoughts and stop people from getting into her head, he never really did it. She had to discover for herself, and, in that, she never was as effective as him. “It’s none of your business,” she scoffed. “It’s not like I’m of any use to you anymore, Professor. I’m sure you have a brand new shiny pawn you can play with that’s even better than I was. Besides,” she added, crossing her arms on her chest, “you gave me those pills.”

“They’re for emergencies only, Y/N, not continuous use,” he shook his head at her, his piercing through hers, She looked down avoiding his gaze, her jaw tight. Her head started to feel heavy, and she didn’t know if it was his prying or something worse. “Do you remember the last time you used those same pills continuously?”

Her teeth gritted and she closed her eyes to stop him from seeing the tears accumulating in them. She looked at him, her eyes completely angry and full of hurt, “I'm a lot stronger that I was back then,” she gritted.

“Bad things happen when you repress your power,” Professor warned, leaning on his knees. “You learned that the hard way.”

“I haven't taken them in days.” she stated, trying to keep her head focused and her voice free of emotion. Professor considered her for a moment. She could feel him prying in her head, searching for traces of a lie well told. She knew he wouldn’t find any, she told the truth, even if it was half of it.

“I know you’re not telling everything,” he told her, his hands fiddling with the orange vial temptevely. “What are you hiding?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. When she was younger, she wouldn’t even consider behaving badly around him. Now, she knew better. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Professor. I don’t even understand why are you here,” she pointed accusingly at him. “You've done a pretty good job showing you don’t care all my life, I find it hard to believe you care now.”

His eyes found hers, as always completely unreadable. But she saw the little details, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his fingers opened and closed the cap of the bottle nervously. It was hard to tell if the tick was fabricated or not, she could never tell with him. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be in touch,” he wheeled himself towards the door.

“Please don’t,” she said clearly as he exited her apartment.

As the door closed she let a shuddery breath, laying on her couch in exhaustion. She let a couple of tears fall from her eyes, quickly drying them after. She had cried because of Professor too many times in her life, she would not cry for him one more time.

Her phone vibrated on her back pocket. She sniffed and fished out, checking what was the cause of the notification. ‘Just arrived. Call me’ from Bucky. Her heart picked up, smiling at her phone happily.

It rang a couple of times before he picked up. “You’re late,” she said, before he had the chance to say anything to her, “you said a couple of days.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he breathed out, “it took longer than anticipated.”

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, a smile on her face. “The book, though, you’re gonna have to pay a fee for being late.”

He laughed at the other end of the line. “First time I ever return it late, can’t you make an exception for me?”

“I didn’t do anything, it was Tom,” she stated quickly. Her lips adorned a permanent smile, so much it barely seemed Professor had just left her apartment. They stayed quiet before anyone said anything.

“I missed you,” he whispered, her heart racing in her chest as he recited the words.

“I missed you too,” she replied back, her voice soft and full of emotion. She tried to contain her tears, an accumulation of feelings from just before and that moment but she couldn’t. “I was so lonely, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too, love,” he sighed on the other end of the line. She could imagine him looking down at his feet, a silly smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling in her mind the way that melted her, he looked absolutely beautiful as usual. “Do you want to go out? I owe you 2 weeks worth of coffee.”

She looked at the ceiling, trying to contain her heart and failing miserably. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” she breathed out.

“I’ll pick you up in 20.”

She hung up the phone and got up from her couch, a silly smile on her face. Her smile soon faded after she realised what she had done. She was only off the pills for 2 days, it wasn’t enough time for her powers to normalize. Without Bucky present, the abstinence wasn’t as noticeable. Sure, she could hear everything more clearly, the music her neighbor had stucky in his head, or the busy thoughts of a random person passing on the sidewalk. But Bucky always had a thousand things in his head, and that surely would be a problem.

She was telling the truth to the Professor. She wasn’t taking them continuously, only a couple of times a week, when Bucky’s thoughts were always the loudest. But she hadn’t told him that she had stopped so late, later than she should have. She was toeing the line again, just like she had done when she was a kid and the prospect of not listening to everyone all the time seemed too good to be true.

A sigh escaped her lips, her heart racing inside her chest, not for the right reasons. She hoped she could control it, keep her latent power at bay just like she did everyday. It was easy to fool herself like that. She forgot how addicting Bucky could be, how wrapped up in him she would get. It was almost an experiment: how would she deal with Bucky’s mind when her power was at the most raw. She wondered if she should be curious or scared.

Her hands sweated as she unpacked her groceries. A cold rush ran through her spine, and she remembered the symptoms she experienced the last time she was off the pills. Dread settled in her, anticipating what was about to come. She cursed Professor, her stupid mutated gene and those fucking pills. She often wondered what would have happened if she never manifested any powers, how her life would have played out.

Then, her senses were flooded by Bucky. She whipped around to the door, seeing the shadow of his feet lingering outside. Her head felt heavy and there was a pain blooming, something much worse than the ones she’d endured when she first met him. It was a side effect, she should have expected that. She leaned on her table for a moment, trying to get used to the pain. The knock echoed through her apartment. She barely registered it, his thoughts flooding her. It was all so incoherent, flashes of yellowed memories and newer ones ran through her head. She heard her name screamed in his head over and over again, his voice whispering pet names he had given her with images of their time together.

She opened the door and there he was, standing in front of her. He wasn’t wearing his traditional gloves, and he had dodged the leather jacket of a simple longed sleeved t-shirt pulled at his elbows. It was the first time she saw his arm being displayed so freely, so unashamedly. He wore a boyish smile on his face, holding a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers meant for her. “I brought you flowers,” he handed the bouquet to her, his eyes twinkling with a charm she hadn’t seen in him before. “You said you wanted to expand your garden,” he justified with a shrug, his eyes on the bouquet. The smile never left his lips.

She almost forgot about her symptoms, letting his charm encapsulate her and warm her heart. She accepted the flowers, their smell overwhelming her. She stepped aside for him to come in, he ducked his head and got in the apartment quietly. It wasn’t the first time he had been over, but it was still odd to see him in her place. It looked smaller with him in it, less lonely.

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door. Her hands glued to the plastic wrapping of the flowers. She wiped her other hand on her pants, gulping nervously. If before she thought his thoughts were loud, in that moment it seemed like they were being blasted in amplifiers at maximum volume. “How’ve you been?” she stuttered, her mouth dry.

“I’m good, good,” he laughed looking down, his hands on his pockets. She could tell he wasn’t lying, for the first time she asked him that question he actually answered it honestly. “How are you, doll?”

She grabbed a pot and some dirt to stick the bouquet in it from the cabinet under the kitchen island. “I’m okay,” she replied quietly. Resting the supplies next to the sunflower she had just bought, a wave of nausea washed over her. She felt the color drain out of her face, feeling lightheaded. Her hands gripped tightly around the backrest of a chair, trying to not collapse to the floor.

She heard him rush to her side, his hands supporting her. The cool touch of his metal arm was contrastant with how hot her skin felt at the moment. “You don’t look okay,” it was like he was yelling in her ear, but she knew his voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

“I’m off my pills,” she gripped his forearms, her eyes shut close. She tried organizing her head, separating her own thoughts with the thoughts of others.

“Let me get them for you,” he guided her to the couch, gently sitting her down.

“No,” she reached for him, her voice dying in her throat. Her hold on his wrist was weak, her eyes closed. The light only worsened her headache, she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. “There’s none left.”

“What d’you mean there’s nothing left?” he asked her, his voice strained. She knew he tried to contain his worry, but it slipped out in his tone. If she wasn’t so sick, she would have appreciated his care. “It seems like something important to have.”

“Professor took ‘em,” her words slurred, “I can’t take more, Bucky.”

“Why?” he hesitated, “what happened?”

“My powers,” her jaw clenched at the sharp pain going through her head, “I just wanted to spend time with you, Bucky, but the pain…” the tears spilled from her eyes, her eyes still closed. The grip on Bucky was tight, she was holding onto him like he was her lifeline, the only thing grounding her to the real world and not her head.

He sat beside her, his hands hovering over her, unsure of what to do. She heard a sliver of guilt going through him, and sadness overwhelmed her because of that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.

“No,” she shook her head, wrapping him up in her arms, “it’s my fault. You’re amazing, Bucky, and I couldn’t stay away,” her tears wet his shirt, her head resting on his shoulder snuggly. She couldn’t help but notice the safe feeling that overwhelmed her in that moment. It was almost like it was where she belonged, safe in his arms. “Your mind… it’s just so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, Bucky. And I was greedy, I wanted you to myself, even if it meant a little pain.”

“A little?” he asked, his voice laced with a sassiness she hadn’t seen before.

She laughed quietly, looking at his face. His blue eyes were sincere, full of emotion and thoughts she could never bring herself to decipher. “A lot,” she sighed, her eyes fixated on his. “I fell back into old habits.”

“I get it,” he assented, his eyes cast on hers, looking for something she didn’t quite know what it was. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay,” she whispered, her heart beating fast inside her. “Please, stay.”

And Bucky did. For the first time, someone who had met her, all of her, stayed with her. That only made her love him more. He hugged her tightly, his head resting on the crook of her neck. “I’ll stay,” he reassured her, his thumb caressing her shoulder gently, “I got you”

She mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ like a prayer on his shoulder. It was too much input, her own emotions and his blended and her tears were their escape. “I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you,” she sniffed, breaking the hug. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey,” he gently pushed her hands out of her face. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red, but she could tell he didn’t care, she heard the word ‘beautiful’ bounce around in his head. “I can take it.”

She shook her head, words unable to escape her quivering lips. “Hey, stop,” he said firmly but lovingly, “listen to me,” he grabbed her face delicately, his fingers brushing her cheeks delicately. “I can take it, doll. Trust me. I have my demons too,” he whispered, “and they don’t scare you. You don’t scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from his eyes. The sincerity in them disarmed her completely, the little restraint she had completely gone. Her breath hitched at the sight of the glimmer in his eyes and the love in his mind. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her voice gone.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at her, the boyish grin he had sported when he arrived back. “How about I make you some tea?” he got up, walking a few steps to the kitchen. He moved around like her tiny little flat was where he belonged. “I make a mean chamomile tea.”

She laughed quietly, her brain slowly calming down, her fever settling. “I’d like that.”

#Bucky Barnes #TFATWS #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #marvel fanfiction #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes x librarian!reader #my masterlist

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a-dorin · 4 years ago

Text

crush

pairing: college au! maul x female!reader

word count: 2.411k

warnings: smutttttt, teasing, cursing, mentions of death threats, endless teasing, some filthy talk, nsfw, pet names

a/n: hi so this is my first time writing over 1k in months. please be gentle with me, as i'm really proud of this & i can never get enough of college aus. feedback is very much appreciated. request was anon, but i hope you enjoy <3

prompt: "Hi yes if this managed to make it in time for request, can I please request a Maul x Fem reader smut,,, like anything I’m a desperate hoe ahdhdbsbsbzb"

“so,” there’s the crisp crinkle of a page turning, “why’d you choose university of coruscant?”

“the atmosphere.”

“come on,” he scoffs, “are you a tour guide now? what major are you anyways? isn’t it something really nerdy? something along the lines of biochemistry? a minor in genetics or some bullshit like that?”

“i think you’re thinking of some other girl you’ve fucked because that is nowhere along the lines of what i’m studying. you weren’t even in the right college. some partner you are.”

sitting right across from you, was the star recruit of the university of coruscant. a lacrosse player who transferred from mustafar central. he was the reason why the team was expected to qualify for nationals. why they were supposed to even make it to the championship.

over the summer, it was almost as if the entire campus was buzzing about it. after all, it wasn’t often that the university was able to snag such good athletes. well, it was a division one school so of course it was a given that everyone was pretty good in their respective sport.

however, the zabrak sitting right across from you was utterly exceptional.

in almost every way.

all everyone raved about was his looks. which, you had to admit, the zabrak was gorgeous. with rich crimson skin, complemented by inky tattoos, sharp cheekbones, a dashing smile, and eyes that were pools of pure honey, it was difficult to deny the fact that he was attractive.

however, it was not hard to accept the other truth, either. he was quite acquainted with a majority of the women on campus, matching with almost every single one on tinder. that was if you were a part of a sorority or part of a sports team, of course.

what made matters worse was his intelligence. so, when you were paired with him for a project in your astronomy class, you learned fairly quickly that the zabrak was quite the smartass. and not a nice one, either. he seemed to enjoy harassing and berating you with his jokes and punchlines during every encounter.

he was everything you despised in a man. cocky, stubborn, and careless.

so why were you so attracted to him? you had absolutely no idea.

there’s a beat of silence, and the only noise the zabrak emits is a quiet exhale. the sound of his breath as it whistled through his teeth. yet, it’s followed by a quiet huff.

“you wish you could fuck me. you’ve mentioned it before, to that nautolan friend of yours, hmm? kit, right? he’s on the lacrosse team. your name may have come up a few times.”

heat flourishes through your cheeks as you glance upwards, any last remnants of focus completely crumbling away. your breath hitches in your throat at the smug smirk plastered on his lips, incisors poking against his lower lip.

golden eyes scour you, almost analyzing the sheer and utter shock plaguing your features. satisfaction glints within the depths, and you blink, scrambling to formulate some sort of response.

leaning forward, the zabrak tilts his head, so close that the tip of his nose grazed yours. this time, the words are a low rumble, harsh and gravelly.

almost like a growl.

“you told your little friend kit that you wished that i would just take you right here, in the library, and fuck you senseless. i find that interesting though, because you’ve been feeding me this little premonition that you absolutely loathe every aspect of my existence. now, do you actually want that little wish of yours to come true, or are you going to keep putting up the act and we act like this never happened?”

shrinking in your seat, you could almost feel the eyes searing into the both of you. there’s arched brows and low murmurs, a few giggles ringing through the space. swallowing thickly, you pull the collar of your hoodie over the lower half of your face, in a vain attempt to conceal your obvious embarrassment.

of course your fellow peers were staring. in the corner of your eye, you witness a group of girls roll their eyes. from the decals on their laptops, along with the other memorabilia, you pick out they’re chi omega girls, a popular sorority on campus.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you hear them whispering amongst each other. there’s a few points, and you were dead sure the dusty rose twi’lek in the black nike hoodie wanted to end your life right there.

maker, were you so flustered.

and he had you right where he wanted you.

“m-maul,” you stutter, fidgeting in your seat, “pe-people are s-staring.”

“do i look like i give a fuck?”

“i’m pretty sure the chi omega girls over there are going to send me death threats once they find my instagram,” you grumble, burying your head in your hands, “it’s your fault they’re all looking, you know.”

“hey!” the taunting tone in his voice sent your eyes wide open, strands of curses flowing from your tongue as he called over to the group, “i know we may have matched on tinder, but i’m not yours. i’m not territory to lay a claim on. i’m my own zabrak, you know. i can talk to other girls.”

letting out an exasperated sigh, you bury your head into your arms, laying your head on the table.

getting any work done with him was a lost cause.

“you okay? you gonna make it?”

for a moment, you melt under the tenderness in his tone, the way the words just sounded so gentle. he lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up, the heat in your cheeks lingering as your eyes lock with his.

“we could get out of here, you know,” maul murmurs, “i live in an apartment with a few other guys on the lacrosse team. they’re all out, though. we could get some peace and quiet. and i could get you away from those chi clowns. i think they already found your twitter. i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.”

i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.

“um, sure. i don’t have anything else tonight. at least, i don’t think. i cleared my schedule so we could get this project done.”

“don’t worry about packing up your stuff. act like you’re on the phone or something and i’ll grab your things. i made this mess so i’ll clean it up,” it takes a moment to register the suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t a suggestion.

he wasn’t going to budge.

clearing your throat, you press your phone to your ear, “hello? oh hey! no, you didn’t catch me at a bad time. i just need to leave the room really quick.”

carefully, you weave your way through the maze of chairs and tables, pushing open the door. moments later, you’re outside, inhaling the brisk january air, grateful for the coolness as it seeps into your skin.

“you okay?”

you nod, probably a little too quickly, “yes.”

maul’s brow furrows, yet he doesn’t press any further, adjusting your book bag, “don’t worry about carrying this. i got it. i feel bad.”

“don’t feel bad i mean, you were just teasing--”

“i do,” he cuts in, “i feel bad because i know how you much you dislike unwanted attention. you always get so flustered when the professor calls on you with no warning. you either stutter just a little bit or you pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. i was a little bit of an asshole back there, and i apologize for that. i took care of everything with those chi omega girls too.”

in the darkness, you nearly trip over the sidewalk, “you.. you notice that?”

“i sit right by you and have been for the past two weeks,” he snorts, “i pick up on a thing or two. take a left here.”

all around you, the lights of campus glow softly, illuminating the surroundings with a warm golden glow. the night sky is clear, a few stars glittering over the light pollution of the city. you follow the zabrak, unsure of what to say.

“were.. were you serious about what you said earlier? did kit really say something?”

your knees buckle at the sound of his laughter. how it was so sweet and melodic as it rang out into the night.

“he did say something,” the zabrak raises a hand, pointing to a complex just a few hundred feet ahead of you, “i’m right here. you still up for the offer? i mean, we still have a week and a half but i don’t want to waste your time. you have a lot going on with your classes already. how’s chemistry going?”

“how do you know about chemistry?” you arch a brow, a shudder coursing through you as the breeze rolls through the campus.

“you bitch about it all the time on your instagram story?” the zabrak holds his id next to the door, pulling it open, “regardless of what you may think, i do pay attention to you sweetheart.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” your tone shifts, “i’m not sure what you’re referring to, maul.”

“well,” a hand finds its way to the small of your back, just above the curve of your ass, pushing you gently. realizing that you have to go up the stairs, you begin to trudge upwards, his hand still lingering.

“you have this belief that you’re unattractive because you don’t possess conventional beauty set by the standards of social media and society. i know this because you’ve talked about it on your twitter and your instagram. also, your comment about ‘some other girl i fucked’ really took me aback because i don’t just sleep with anyone. you know that, right? i have standards. and i have goals too, outside from ‘how many bodies i have.’ you also said that to kit, which made me upset. is that what you really think of me?”

in that instant, it was almost as if your heart dropped. you stop at the top of the flight, the clammy sensation coating your hands only growing. wiping your hands on your leggings, you dodge his gaze, clamping your mouth shut.

gods, were you in deep shit now.

fingers grasp your chin, forcing your head to the right. maul takes a step forward, pushing your back against the wall. the concrete sends goosebumps lining your arms, hairs standing on end.

“i asked you a question,” your heart thuds as he leans forward, “is that what you really think of me sweetheart?”

“i-i--” you stammer, heat flourishing to your neck, “t-that’s not i think of you. i was just frustrated because i didn’t know how to process the feelings i had and i’m sorry.”

“feelings?” maul’s lips were practically brushing against yours. and gods, were they so tantalizingly soft, “what kind of feelings?”

“i may have a crush on you.”

“a crush? what is this, fifth grade?” the tease was edged with somewhat you couldn’t quite place your finger on. what was it? lust? want? hunger?

“a crush,” you affirm, “i have a crush on you, maul.”

“you wanna know what i told those chi omega girls?” he inquires, one hand on the wall, the other reaching for your face, cupping your cheek.

“what did you tell those girls?” fuck. were you in deeper shit now.

“i told them we were talking. that you were my girl,” your lashes flutter at his touch, “and you know wanna know what else i told them?”

“what else did you say?” puckering you lips, you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly.

the sound that you hear is nothing like you’ve encountered before.

“i-i,” you feel your lips curve into a smirk as he grits his teeth, “i told them that i was going to fuck you after this. that i was going to completely destroy you.”

“you didn’t---”

his mouth connects with yours for an open-mouthed kiss. it’s electrifying yet blissful, something that would sweep you off your feet yet keep you grounded, keeping you wanting more and more. gods, was it such a craving. to stay in this stairwell, to cherish this moment.

it’s gratifying, enough to make you light-headed with giddiness.

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

yet, he pulls away, panting ever so slightly.

“fuck.”

“fuck?”

his jaw clenches, “you have no fucking idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that. ever since i met you. fuck, i need more. i need more of you. ‘taste so good.”

“we could always--”

“finish this in my apartment? yeah, i want to. but i don’t want to force anything on you and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. i’ve just -- i’ve just been having dreams about you.”

“dreams?” you watch as the zabrak’s eyes squeeze shut, his body shifting away from yours. he’s heading towards the door now, nearly throwing it open.

“dreams about being inside of you. fuck. i need to know how you feel. if you’re as tight as i imagined. and fuck, i need to feel how wet you are too. how wet you get for me. have you ever tasted yourself before?”

you shake your head, “i haven’t.”

maul practically stalks down the hallway, finding his door. sliding the key into the lock, he steps inside, placing your bags on the floor, “would you rather study or would you rather let me express how i feel?”

thumbs loop through the pocket of your hoodie, pulling you close to him. fuck, you could feel him against your body. the stiffness of his cock underneath his sweats. how hot and bothered he was for you, practically aching for some sort of release.

“what do you mean ‘express how you feel’?” carefully, you dip a hand into the waistband, hand wrapping around the outline, squeezing gently.

“oh fuck,” maul throws his head back, moaning ever so slightly, “i-i may have a crush on you too. and i wanted to express how i felt. i-i’m not good with words.”

“why don’t you show me then?” your clit throbs as you feel along his shaft, fingers grazing over the ridges, thumb pressing against his tip.

“bend over the fucking counter then and i’ll fucking show you then, princess. you better not utter a single fucking word about this fucking project because it’s my turn to study you.”

☆☆☆☆☆

taggin' some maul moots: @maulieber @maulfrk @hounding-around @maximumninjavoid @xcertaindarkthingsx @zabrak-show @anakinswhore @arsonistvoyager @bonesaldente @catsnkooks@darthmaulslut

#maul #darth maul #maul x reader #darth maul x reader #maul smut #darth maul smut #maul x y/n #reader insert #college!au

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kaypeace21 · 4 years ago

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Analyzing the 5 plays in this drama club poster .From the bts pics of stranger things 4.

So... some of ya’ll know I'm going through the st s4 films given to us by the official st twitter + the films reffed in the show itself or mentioned by the Duffers in interviews .

So I decided to look at the plays mentioned here. Because even if we don't see the monologues in the show directly - the Duffers wouldn't name drop anything unless it inspired them in some way. Similar to films name dropped in the show. Tw : for some dark themes .

This is just a quick little analysis I decided to do since we probably won't get any new st content today (3/22). Nothing too deep. Just mentioning things that caught my interest especially cause these plays have a lot of narrative connections to the st s4 movies I've been watching.

Invitation to a march (Authur laurents)

Reminds me of the stancy/jancy love triangle. "A young woman is having second thoughts about doing the right thing and marrying a respectable , rich, kind, young man with good prospects.By way of a prewedding diversion, this woman becomes interested in the passionate but poor and entirely unsuitable son of a local landlord.Basically, the plot concerns the efforts of Norma Brown to choose between a conventional fiance who "puts her to sleep" but is wealthy (like what her own mother did) or go for this new-poor guy. The play is principally interested in how this youthful love triangle affects the three mothers involved (whether the kids like it or not)

12th night (Shakespeare)

- viola (el) wrongly assumes a family member (hopper) is dead. She dresses up as a man named 'cesario'. A girl named Olivia falls for 'cesario' (violet dressed as a man). "Finally, when 'Cesario' and Sebastian (violet's twin brother: assumed to have drowned - Will) appear in the presence of Olivia there is more wonder and confusion at their physical similarity. Taking Sebastian for 'Cesario', Olivia asks him to marry her, and they are secretly married in a church. Cough if Olivia is 'straight' cause she fell for Viola (as a doppleganger dressed like her twin brother).Mike being into el who multiple characters in s1 said looked like a boy and specifically like Will is...suspish and a hint he's not straight lol. just like Olivia they're both into guys . plus, this play just has a butt load of love triangles (ugh i hated that aspect). There was also romantically coded letters (which was in the s4 films) . One character is also thrown into an insane asylum and framed as 'insane'.'Pretending that Malvolio is insane, they lock him up in a dark chamber. Feste visits him to mock his insanity'. We all know the psych hospital will be narratively important- talked about it more here.

The seagull (Anton Chekhov-russian)

similar to how I believed s4 will show m*#even already broken up since the months between s3-4 : act 3 (s3) ends with Nina begging for one last chance to be with Trigorin before he leaves/moves away. They kiss and make plans to meet again in Moscow.And in act 4 there's a timeskip where it shows they've been broken up for a long time between acts- and its established they never actually loved eachother. Do i even have to spell out why this parallels the m*#even ending in s3? There is also a play within the play (this is common in a lot of the st films- they have plays- or a story within a story- which illustrate certain themes or emotions of the characters within said film : blackswan, children of paradise, highschool musical, Rushmore, book of Henry, welcome to marwen, never ending story, romancing the stone, wet hot American summer, etc).The play is Konstantin's latest attempt at creating a dense symbolist work. There is also alot of love triangles in the seagull. TW!: for se#ual ab*se/su*cidal thoughts/ inc*st (here and in other play segments). The seagull motif reminds me a lot of Jonathan's rabbit story.Konstantin romantically into Nina shows up to give her a gull that he has shot. Nina is confused and horrified . Trigorin sees the gull that Konstantin has shot and muses to Nina on how he could use it as a subject for a short story: "The plot for the short story: a young girl lives all her life on the shore of a lake. She loves the lake, like a gull, and she's happy and free, like a gull. But a man arrives by chance, and when he sees her, he destroys her, out of sheer boredom. Like this gull." This immediately reminded me of jon's rabbit story and some of the movies on the s4 list . Like in forrest gump- Jenny (who is poor) was se*ually ab*sed as a very young girl by her father. As a child she runs away into a field-away from her alcoholic father yelling at her -there she prays that she can "be a bird so I can fly far far away" .

Jenny as an adult struggles with this unresolved trauma- being with ab*sive partners, doing dr*gs, and having su*cidal thoughts . She as an adult when contemplating su*icide, jokes 'you think i can fly like a bird ?' while looking down at a bridge.God-i'm worried about jonathan (Jenny was also a musician sort of like jon). In another s4 movie example ' mystic river ' :(in the 80s) a preteen baseball playing boy is r*ped by men in the woods. He later says he wishes he could become an undead monster to not feel the pain of that experience - cause quote " if I'm not human anymore maybe the pain will stop" (Will) . slightly off topic but he also has another personality, imagines a alternate word that dissappears when he turns his head. And as a less direct animal parallel to the play - the boy from the film also imagined his perpetrators as monsters and wolves to cope.In 'getout' the photographer character sees a dead deer in the woods and it represents a parent/his own childhood tra*ma relating to his past. similarly in 'prince of tides' the 2 siblings as kids were ra*ed by men. The older brother remembered it and the younger sibling developed DID (so didn't remember but she would draw wolves- as the perpetrators/villains in her picture stories she created . In the film they also had an ab*sive dad and were very poor. She also tried k*ling herself multiple times-but started to get better after remembering the source of her pain and trauma. There is also the theme of multiple attempted su*cides in the play- and the play ends with yet another attempt- and the audience is left unaware of the artist's fate at the end of the play.

The tempest (Shakespeare)

Prospereo - (the perceived antagonist) is a wizard with monstrous looks, storm powers , and ability to create monster-dogs

He wants revenge on a man who tried ra*ing his family member & revenge on his other family member who wronged him years ago. I mean... pretty much my did theory.But in the end.Prospero decides to show his enemies the mercy that they did not show him twelve years earlier. He tells Ariel to bring the men to him, he will restore their sanity and then renounce magic forever.Prospero breaks the spell that the men are under .

Diary of a scoundrel (Alexander Ostrovsky-Russian)

- I suppose this could loosely relate to Jonathan? Glumov, is a young man from an impoverished family lacking status seeking entrance into society's pampered class. A 19th-century Russian scoundrel must scheme his way out of his meager life in a small apartment -whatever it takes.He has a quick mind and some talent for seeing through the hypocrisies of people around him ( Jonathan does make a lot of social critiques about society). That gives him some advantages. A tale of one man's mission to finagle his way into upper-class society and find a cushy job. Set in 1874, this social comedy follows Glumov, a Russian youth who begins his ambitious ascent to social esteem. He progresses by wit, guile and rhetoric. Pitting one stupid person against another, he soon gains his ends. To reach these goals, Glumov will lie, flatter, and cater to the vanities of the wealthy. Unable to contain his disgust with his victims, Glumov decides to relieve his unvoiced satirical comments by recording his schemes in a diary. But he is tripped up by his uncle's wife, to whom he has made passionate love on his way to success. At the end of the play, his diary is stolen and his duplicity exposed, but he can nevertheless suceeds. The author is much more critical about the high society itself than about the main character, so the play keeps attracting generations of directors by opening possibilities for political criticism while also avoiding naming names of the current rulers.The play's aim was to overthrow bourgeois tradition and establish a class-conscious art called eccentricism giving a deliberately comic portrayal of reality.

I suppose I notice some possible commonalities- besides s3 critiquing the wealthy/capitalism in comedic ways . jonathan since s1 has worried about his family's finances / had some resentment toward the rich . In some of the s4 movies ‘orphan’ & ‘ girl interrupted’ someone reads their diary out loud to get at them (in girl interrupted the winona character’s diary even had critiques of her new friends). Alot of movies also have someone (usually a teen/young adult) making a documentary about their life -which could narratively replace said diary? A few movies have a poor guy adjusting to snobby rich social circles (or being poor and then getting money)- titanic, kingsmen, karate kid, the craft , godfather, wardogs,into the spiderverse,flashdance, and many others . And movies like wardogs has a poor-young-character do shady things to finacially support his family . There’s also that whole uncle’s wife thing- which makes me uncomfortable for obvious reasons (but I’m just thinking of Lonnie’s creepy gf who was into him). A few movies had the guy’s step mom innappropriately hit on him- orange county & you got mail. And him trying to avoid her advances. Or...not to mention ... it may be a problematic coincidence /trope. But in enter the void -the guy who needs to finacially support his sibling/ does dr*gs -hooks up with his dr*g dealing friend’s married mom (who would give him money). Or in gilbert grape- the poor teen-who has to finacially support his siblings/single mom-has his endgame relationship be a girl his own age. But before that he h*oked up with a married woman -who would give him money. Don’s plum -young film guy-propositioned by older female film director (for dream job). Not even mentioning the other films that have the guy hooking up with toxic older women (like ‘the graduate’). Or analyze this-where the therapist accuses him of having an Oedipus complex (not touching that one... but the guy in ‘enter the void’ a 100% had one). It’s possible those movies were just- inspo for s3? A coincidence? Or s3 was foreshadowing for this in s4- but unlike s3 it will accurately be played as wrong and a sign of Jonathan recreating past tra*ma caused by Lonnie (cough like the photos) /being desperate for money. And not played ‘comedically’ like how it mostly was in s3. But shown as self destructive (for Jon) and immoral on the Woman’s end. Like... Billy and Jon are character foils. Both are older siblings into rock music, with ab*sive dads who shoved them into walls. Both lose it (and beat steve to a pulp when Steve accidentally triggers their daddy issues). In s3 it’s established womanizer Billy has mommy issues, than he tries ho*king up with someone his mom’s age, and the characters ref ‘back to the future ‘ and Steve incorrectly says it’s about “alex p keaton trying to bang his mom.” This could illustrate his subconscious issues with parental figures/adults cause of Lonnie’s possible past se*ual ab*se . One film the friend even says to the guy “you don’t have friends!” guy b: i have friends! him: no you have acquaintances! ADMIT IT! YOU’RE AFRAID OF MEN!I mean-Jonathan liked Nancy- but he initially hooked up with her cause he wanted to prove he didn’t have ‘trust issues’ from his dad. Also it’s prob a bit of a reach (and maybe a coincidence)- but the fact Murray in the same breath compares Steve (Nancy’s then bf) and Lonnie ... uh... if you think too long about it ... it’s very sinister . Especially because in s3: muray tells Joyce that despite her wanting to be with a nice guy, she’s curious about “the brute” Hopper despite him reminding her of a past “bad relationship”(aka Lonnie). Like- yeah connect some dots. Quite a few films (other than forrest gump) also have the character who (as a kid) was r*ped by their dad/parent- begin to do dr*gs/be pr*miscuous as adults since they never learned to properly cope with their trauma (’girl with the dragon tattoo’, ‘black swan’, and ‘magnolia’). Unfortunately the whole relative doing such things to kid-relatives is in at least 30+ movies.

Personally, i would be MUCH happier if Jon had a age appropriate romance- and had not a single creepy adult near him. A few movies actually imply Lonnie gets yet another ‘new model’ replacing his gf in her 20s with a new gf- who is ‘barely l*gal” and just turned 18. so there’s that possibility as well- that she’s jonathan’s age.I just want Jonathan-happy &safe. GOD. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

#byler #byeler #will byers #mike wheeler #Jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #joyce byers #jim hopper #murray bauman #stranger things #el hopper #s4 theory #stranger things theory

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brekkerism · 4 years ago

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BASIC INSTINCT (Part 1 - A Spencer Reid Series)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: (Y/N) has recently joined the bau through non conventional and rather privileged means. Couple that with a dark and troubled past, all she really wants is a fresh start. What she didn’t predict getting in her way of that, was one Special Agent Dr Spencer Reid. She thinks it’s hopeless and he’ll hate her forever. That is, until she sees Dr Reid on a rather...unusual place.

A/n: I kinda can’t believe this is my first Spencer Reid/Criminal minds fic. I’ve been obsessed for so long but I never got the courage to post anything. Well, we’ll see how this one goes. I really do hope all of you enjoy this, since I’m planning to make it multi chapters and I’m too in love to abandon it! Forgive me for not giving y’all the smut right away but good things come to those who are patient! And also huge thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins for being such a wonderful human and helping me beta this first one. Shout out to all the lovely people in the discord for encouraging me enough to write this. And also for my sweet liv, bc if she didn’t like this I would def not have posted.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word count: 2320

Rating: R-no actual hard smut. For now.

Content warning: 12+ years age gap, description of bdsm scenes and play, swear words, brief fingering

*********

Since the first day I stepped in the bau, I knew Dr.Spencer Reid would not like me one bit.

Call it a gut feeling, a hunch, or maybe my justified pessimism.

I knew the moment my dad told me, fresh out of the academy and not even slightly experienced at 24 years old, that I ‘mysteriously’ got a generous offer for a job with one of the best teams the FBI had to offer, that I wasn’t going to be liked by a lot of people. Because it wasn’t a mystery how I got the position. It was actually really plain and simple, and could be boiled down to one word:

Nepotism

I didn’t ask for it; I didn’t want it (no matter how much I actually wanted the position, but by my earning it on my own merits), but I completely understood something like this was likely to happen. I knew it the moment I moved back home and decided that the only thing worthwhile I really wanted to do was join the FBI. My dad was a good guy who was just trying to help me, his intentions were just a little misguided. It happens.

What doesn’t ‘just’ happen is that my dad is the deputy director of the FBI. His helping me was ‘making calls’ and ‘pulling strings’, which instantly gives my peers every reason to doubt every achievement I have.

But I was completely ready for it.

What I wasn’t ready for is for everyone on the team to be normal and so welcoming to me, like I was any other agent. It was everything I wanted.

Well, everyone did that except him. I couldn’t figure it out why, but from the first minute he turned those eyes towards me, looking me up and down but never quite reaching my eyes, I could feel the scrutiny under the stare. Almost like he was saying “Really? This is it?”.

But with a blink it was gone, and he turned away from me and put his attention to the book in his hand so fast I almost thought I imagined the whole thing.

But I knew, I knew I saw it. And I knew that even if I didn’t want it, my body and brain would spend days trying to make him acknowledge me again, to look me up and down again, to try and prove to him what I’ve been trying to prove to everyone:

I deserved to be there. I could earn it by myself. I just need the chance to do it.

And so, my journey to try to not only be useful but a valuable agent, someone he would have to notice began.

And it was shit.

Everyone was so willing not only to teach me, but to listen to my input.

Luke always had my back, both of us being the newbies in the team. JJ and Tara were always open to listening to theories, doubts and rambling, besides being totally badass inspirations. Penelope always had a eager and friendly attitude that could comfort me immediately, and she welcomed me with open arms. Emily and Rossi were patient, while also pushing me to be so much better, and being the best mentors they could be.

None of them even seemed to have even a passing thought of giving me special treatment or harsher judgment. It was almost perfect.

If it wasn’t for Special Fucking Agent Doctor Reid. He wouldn’t even be an asshole towards me, oh no, It was much, much worse. He ignored me.

He was almost happy to pretend I didn’t even exist. Of course there were situations that he couldn’t avoid socializing, as minimal as it was, but it was like he was talking to a wall. He looked at me like he was surprised that I was even there. He wouldn’t acknowledge me unless he was made to. He wouldn’t even correct me when I was wrong. At this point I was sure that I could be screaming bloody murder at him and he wouldn’t take his eyes off whatever he was doing.

It was the most frustrating and irritating thing that has ever happened to me. It made my blood boil over. It made me cry with sorrow.

And I couldn’t even figure out why. I didn’t know what it was that made me crazy because Spencer Reid wouldn’t look my way.

So I did what every angry and frustrated normal young adult does.

I went to a sex dungeon to drink my mixed feelings away and watch BDSM scenes. Duh.

Even though I wasn’t going there to play, and I thought I would never be able to play again, it was still a safe place for me. A place where I could see people that once knew the real me and provided a place free of any judgement. People who didn’t know who I was outside of those walls, who thought of me as just another person in that safe and different little world.

It also helped that watching, as much as it wasn’t my preference before, was the only thing that could properly get me off these days. And after everything, I thought I still deserved the ability to enjoy some parts of it.

And so, after saying my goodbyes to Pen, JJ amd Emily, and finding flimsy excuses not to join them at the bar for Friday drinks, I hopped the elevator, wondering how long would it take me to get properly dressed and drive across town, and if I was going to be able to call more of my old friends.

But all my happy thoughts of getting to immerse myself on a world I still loved were immediately clouded when a hand stopped the elevator and went in with me. His hand.

Great, just the perfect ending to an shitty day. A awkward elevator ride with Spencer Reid. And as always, he didn’t bother to acknowledge me, even though it was just the two of us riding down.

I was trying so hard to be in a good mood; to ignore the shitty end to a shittier case and go somewhere where I could try to be happy. But I just had to be met with his silence, his awkwardness, his existence in general. I didn’t want to feel like that today. So before I could stop myself, I did something stupid

“So, what are your plans for the weekend, Doctor?”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid. Like he would voluntarily participate in small talk with me, something he already didn’t like, with someone he didn’t even bother to not like.

“I think I’m going to go to a party with a friend today.”

Now that took me by surprise. No short replies? No one syllable answers? He actually told me something out of his own free will? He engaged in small talk?!

“O-oh? I didn’t know you were one for partying... like, at all. Which friend are you going with? Do I know him?”

Talk to me. Keep engaging in small talk, please.

“You don’t really know me well enough to judge if I am one for partying or not, now, do you? And you definitely wouldn’t know her. I don’t only hang out with people on our team, contrary to popular belief.”

Well that was extremely uncalled for. And rude. I thought that it was the first time he ever referred to me as part of the team, but that was an small detail to analyze later.

“No need to be defensive or rude, I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

He was back to having that stupid blank expression on his face, back to not dignifying me with a proper answer, and that just wouldn’t do, would it?

I had a response. I had an excellent, spectacular comeback to use, but before I could actually defend myself in any way, the elevator dinged open. He couldn’t get out fast enough.

It was infuriating. So I did the only reasonable thing:

I followed him to his car to give him a piece of my mind.

Because of those immensely long legs, he almost got there quick enough to drive away and avoid me, but I would not let my stubby short legs get in the way.

I got my hand in before he could close his door, much like he did with the elevator. He still refused to look up at me but, the cheer disbelief and confusion on his face was enough of a response. Can’t ignore me now, asshole.

“You know, the only reason I don’t know anything about you, is because you pretend like I don’t exist. So don’t be needlessly rude to me. It’s better to keep not saying anything at all.”

And there it was. It was just tip of the iceberg, but at least I acknowledged it. I could actually feel a smirk forming on my face.

“Remove your hand please.”

And he finally looked up at me. All the disbelief and annoyance on his face were gone, replaced by that utterly bored and blank stare.

I actually wanted to scream. How was this the same guy that couldn’t stop talking and rambling enthusiastically about any and everything to anyone, the same person who had a perfect smile and warmth on his eyes for everyone else. How.

It was too frustrating. So I stepped back, removing my hand from his car door and walking towards my own car. It was better to just let it end already so I can wallow in my humiliation over this failed attempt at confrontation.

It almost put me in a bad enough mood that I didn’t want to go to the ‘club,’ but I had already promised Amara, who was not only one of my best friends but also happened to be dating that particular BDSM dungeon’s Mistress. There was no getting out even if I wanted to.

And I didn’t really want to.

****

A hour and dress change later, I was ready to go. This was absolutely nothing like the old outfits I used to wear for this events, but then again, I wasn’t the same girl. Not entirely.

So I opted for a silky black dress with a cowl neck and the best heels I had. It was sexy enough for a night of normal clubbing, but rather tame for a night at a dungeon. It was exactly what I wanted. It was less likely in that type of dungeon for anybody to approach or proposition me if I didn’t look experienced and in my element.

Even if I secretly was.

So I got ready, took my time to properly breathe, and left everything that wasn’t this night or positive thoughts behind the locked door of the apartment. I could come back to them later.

Right now, I was going to be happy and have fun.

*****

I was not having fun anymore. It was unfortunate, and I felt like somehow that this had to be the bad mood I was in from a particular encounter earlier. I just couldn’t find anything that excited me the way I wanted it to. I had made the rounds with Amara, and she had showed me all of the new rooms and new toys before every space got occupied with busy couples and groups.

It was beyond fun exploring before the spaces were being actually used, and imagining what each person would get out of those rooms. It was a pleasant and happy feeling.

But soon enough the dungeon got filled with more and more people, and each room was occupied and used. Most were open for all that wanted to watch, but each scene I passed failed to get my attention. It was especially more daunting and lonely when Amara left to put on a show with her girlfriend in the main room.

And as pretty and wonderful as they looked, I just didn’t feel like watching a couple as in love as Amara and Celeste performing tonight. It was just... a little too much for me. After everything, most loving was.

No, what I was looking for was not that. I was looking for the thing I used to crave. The thing that used to keep me going at all times of the day.

I was looking for fucking. Not couples making love, not couples having sex, not pet play, not elaborate scenes or people using toys so strange and complicated I couldn’t make out what was what.

I was looking for someone completely fucking dominating their partner.

It shouldn’t be impossible to find. Not on a Friday night, and not in a club this good.

And I did. I finally found it.

The dom had his back to the audience and the door with the little window I was watching through. He was turned toward his sub standing on the side while she spread her legs on the bed, her hands tied up to the headboard, showing her pussy to the audience along the wall. It was the perfect scene for me. In fact, too perfect.

She even looked a little like me, in fact. Same build, similar hair. It got me even more excited to watch this through. I took a deep breath and finally opened the door. Stepping in, I leaned against the door, having a direct view to the bed.

And god did I want to watch.

The dom still had his back to us,but I wasn’t watching him. Rather, I watched the girl’s cunt and how he was fingering it, not saying anything for her or us yet.

He has really nice hands.

Really, really nice. In fact I don’t think I’ve seen such nice hands since –

Not the time!

The girls face looked rather blissful, and I imagined three of those pretty and long fingers should be doing just the trick for her.

But then she did something that displeased him.

She moaned. Loudly.

The sound was immediately followed by a sharp slap in her face.

Fuck, that made me wet.

But before I could even entertain the idea of getting my hands inside my panties, the dom spoke.

He spoke in a voice I almost never heard directed towards me, but could pick out in any crowd.

He spoke in the voice of the man that made me so mad I almost didn’t come to the club in the first place.

“Are my fingers inside you too much? Cause I’ll fucking stop if you can’t obey and stay quiet.”

And I froze. I froze and panicked and had to stop myself from screaming by bringing a hand up to my mouth.

Because that was Spencer Reid, in a BDSM dungeon, dominating a girl right in front of me.

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @gretaamyk @prettyricky187 @sunlight-moonrise @fanficlibrary82 @blazinvixen @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @httpnxtt @reidetic @hyper-fxation @blushingspencer @reidlusts @wishingwellwriting @redbullchick

I feel like I missed a lot of peeps but please know I’m still thankful ma loves

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lyricdissonance · 2 years ago

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I have thoughts about barbarian (2022) [they are not positive thoughts] [heavy spoilers follow, also content warning for discussion of SA and ableism]

I... don't really know what to do with the fact that this movie was as well received as it was? you tell me there's a highly reviewed original plot-twisty horror movie out and I'm often first in line so when I heard of this one I made sure to check it out, following everyone's advice to know as little as possible about the story before going in. and after doing so, well all I can say is I’m glad sexual assault isn’t a trigger for me. the movie at least has the good sense to never show it happening but what gets implied is pretty horrific. and trying to make this a timely social issue movie by making a main character an actor who got me-too’d? I get it, the real horror is what we can do to our fellow humans but you do not pull this off as well as you think you do, movie. and the hint at a redemption arc where said actor has this whole “I may be a bad person but I can become a better one” moment after realizing “hey at least I’m not as bad as the man in the basement who kidnaps and impregnates women”? it was a relief when he almost immediately threw away his chance at character development but I was honestly scared the movie would go through with it when it had by no means earned that particular narrative.

and then at the end of all that, the "monster" living in the basement turns out to not be one at all, but a woman who's the product of generations of incest that have left her disfigured and barely able to communicate. there are elements of her being a sympathetic character in there, but it really struck me as using disability as horror in a very uncomfortable way. “oooooh she’s scary bc her birth defects make her look and act inhuman and violent” fuck outta here. and after making us feel for her you have the gall to put a song over the end credits that mocks her character motivations. you did NOT earn that little joke, movie. plus how exactly does inbreeding make someone strong enough to rip an arm off with their bare hands? trying to ground her backstory in realism just makes it less believable imo.

maybe this is all my fault for reading foreshadowing where there wasn't any. when it was mentioned that there was a medical convention in town and I saw the bed in the white room and the cages in the halls I thought the twist would be a conspiracy of medical experimentation they'd stumbled in on. it was definitely a letdown to find out the twist was actually So Much Rape.

besides all that, I really kinda just found myself underwhelmed. there were some nice gore moments but nothing that will haunt my dreams, I didn't feel any real emotional payoff at the end, most of the characters had a little too much Stupid Protagonist Syndrome for my liking even if the "such an obnoxious asshole that he's completely oblivious to the fact that he's dooming himself" behavior of the movie guy was honestly one of the most entertaining parts of the whole thing.

if you’re reading this and you loved the movie and think I’m getting this all wrong, I apologize. I’m genuinely not here to say this is a Problematic movie or even a bad one, and frankly the fact that everyone else adored this movie makes me worry that I’m the one tumblr freak getting offended over nothing so if someone can tell me why I’m actually wrong I’d be grateful. I’m just... so tired. between this and men (2022) how many more horror movies are we going to get written and directed by cis men who know Exactly How Scary It Is To Be A Woman We Swear Please Give Us Money

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waywardnerd67 · 3 years ago

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Star Crossed: Brightest Star

Summary: Life on tour was stressful and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) enjoyed the quiet moments on her tour bus with her best friend traveling between cities. After a show one night, she discovers her BFF recorded her fangirling over her favorite actor and posted it online. In a single moment, her life changes forever. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1201 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

The crowd was deafening as Wayward Stars stood center stage and bowed. Her bandmates pushed (Y/N) (Y/L/N) forward joining in on the cheering. She smiled brightly, waved and took a bow. She could see the first ten rows of people that were sweating and red faced from rocking out with them. Never did a night go by that she was not eternally grateful for the life she was able to live.

Walking off stage, the other bands they were touring with greeted them around the large green room. Her best friend, Addy Pearson, was chatting it up with a guitarist from The Letter Scarlett. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at her before heading towards the buffet of food and drinks. By passing all the alcohol, she grabbed a bottle of water and a handful of grapes.

“I think I’m in love.” Addy said, wrapping her arms around (Y/N)’s waist.

“You say that about every guy you lock eyes onto. However, Benny is actually a good guy so I would approve of this one.”

Addy laughed while grabbing a beer, “We have a couple of days before we hit the next city, right?”

She nodded, “Thankfully. My body is sore and in need of some R&R. Are you joining me on my bus or sneaking off with your newest boy toy?”

Her best friend kissed her cheek, “See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She watched Addy skip back to the latest notch to be added to her belt.

Honestly, she was thankful that she would have her bus all to herself. A night alone with her favorite show and junk food was exactly what she needed. Waving goodbye to her tour mates, she asked one of the bodyguards to come with her and went out to meet some fans standing near the buses. It was one thing she could do as a thank you to the fans who spent their money on seeing her. She wanted to make sure they knew how much she appreciated them.

After a few dozen hugs, selfies and autographs she finally made it to her bus. Stripping off her sweaty, nasty clothes she got into her favorite pj shorts and Zeppelin shirt. Grabbing some leftover pizza from the night before and her favorite gift from a fan. (Y/N) settled into her bunk and started up the last episode of Supernatural she had been watching.

“Dean Bear, this is the episode you were inspired from.” She whispered.

She snuggled with the Build-A-Bear that was made to look like Dean Winchester with glasses. Snapping a quick picture of her teddy bear and posting it on her Instagram.

Towards the end of the episode, she felt her bus roar to life and soon started to move. That is when a notification popped up on her phone.

Heart racing, she pulled up the video forgetting that there was a Supernatural convention going on this weekend. One day, she was going to be able to schedule a weekend for her to go. For now, she was thankful for fans that were there for sharing their videos online. (Y/N) let out a squeal reading the title of the video.

VanCon SNS - Jensen Ackles Heaven & S.O.B.

Clicking play, she turned the volume up on her phone. Letting out a breathless sigh, watching him walk onto stage wearing black boots, tight jeans, simple black t-shirt and dark cowboy hat.

“Good god…” she murmured.

The first notes of Bryan Adams “Heaven” began to play and (Y/N) literally melted in her spot. His beautiful baritone voice made her heart skip. He commanded the stage and audience, captivating everyone’s attention.

“Oh no… you’re watching Jensen Ackles videos again.”

She looked up seeing Addy walking to her bunk pressing pause on her video, “What happened to Benny?”

She shrugged silently, flopping down onto her bed, “I obviously mixed up the signals being sent my way. It’s fine now I can lay here and make fun of your obsession with Jensen.”

(Y/N) stuck out her tongue, hitting play, “You show me a man with more talent and hotter than him then I will stop obsessing over him.”

The next song he sang was one of her favorites. The man was made to be a rockstar from his voice, playing guitar and the way he moved his body. What she would not give to see him perform live.

“You’re drooling…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes without looking from her screen, “I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Addy laughed at her but let her finish fangirling without further comments. The rest of the night she spent watching Supernatural finally falling asleep to dream of the handsome green eyed rockstar.

A couple of days later, she was sitting in her bunk before a show when she heard Addy having a heated conversation with her manager. Rolling out of her bunk, she walked to the front of the bus seeing her best friend rolling her eyes and her manager’s bright red face.

“What’s going on?”

“Ask your friend what she did.” Her manager stormed off the bus.

She turned towards her friend who was shrugging nonchalantly, “I get what the big deal is. I mean it’s nothing embarrassing or anything.”

“Addyson Marie Pearson, what did you do?” Panic flooded her stomach seeing Addy pulling out her phone.

A million thoughts ran through her mind. Did she post a picture of them from their wild days of concerts and after parties? Did she mouth off to one of the haters on social media again?

She handed (Y/N) her phone to a Tweet she posted tagging her in it. There was a link to a YouTube video and her stomach sank. Pressing the link it was a short video of her in her bunker from a few days earlier. She was singing along with Jensen Ackles smiling from ear to ear staring longingly at him.

“You’re drooling…” She heard Addy say from behind the camera.

She watched herself roll her eyes without looking from the screen, “I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

The video already had thousands of views. The tweet had been reblogged over a hundred times. (Y/N) looked up, jaw slacked at her giggling best friend.

“Jesus Addy… why?” she asked, handing the phone back and putting her head in her hands.

“I thought it was cute and you’re fans love seeing candid moments like this. Who knows, maybe Mr. Ackles will see it and fall in love with you.”

Her head snapped up, “Oh god… I really hope he never sees that. I mean really what are the chances of that happening?”

Both their phones went off at the same time. They looked at one another before looking at their phones.

“Ho-ly crap…” (Y/N) whispered, pulling up the Twitter notification.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

Taglist: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @destiel745 @carribear31 @whimsicalrobots @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @mannls @time-travel-bouqet @myinconnelly1 @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @thefaithfulwriter @stoneyggirl @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @mimaria420

#waywardnerd67fics #star crossed series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles #reader insert #rpf #fluff

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #spider man #peter parker #fic #dragonbabbles

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loserchildhotpants · 3 years ago

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Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

#destiel #deancas #my stuff #fluff #pining #mutual pining #idiots in love #dancing #pre-slash

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lovenhlboys · 4 years ago

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From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

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A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

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PRESENT

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Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February) 2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock.

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted.

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock.

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion.

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night.

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you.

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her.

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.”

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed. He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

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PRESENT

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As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

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

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 13 - Round and Round We Go

Chapter 1 Chapter 12

“And this was his idea?” Adrien confirmed again.

Marinette rolled her eyes and pulled him along. “We worked on the details together, but yes, it was his idea to spend more time together. He knows you don’t trust him and he wants to try to earn your trust.”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust him…” Adrien pouted.

“Yes it is.” Marinette gave him a pointed look.

“I’m sure he’s great.” Adrien said politely. “He seems to make you very happy.”

Marinette stopped and brought Adrien’s eyes to hers. “Yes, he does. And he knows you’re both going to be very prominent in our,” she placed her hand over the baby bump, “lives so he wants to make friends. He wants everyone in our baby’s life to like each other.” She sighed. “He wants the baby to be completely surrounded by love if he can. That means you two have to get along and Damian and I have to get along.”

Adrien nodded and continued walking. “And do you think that’s possible?”

Marinette shrugged. “I think he’s going to be at least a little suspicious of me until the blood test and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I can push for our interactions to at least be amicable until then. I like him. You always know exactly where you are with him. He’s like some mad combination of Max and Alix. As analytical as Max and fiercely protective as Alix. Unaware of social convention like Max and painfully blunt like Alix.

“And I don’t think he hates me, he’s just vastly overprotective of his family, you know? I just need to keep that in mind. Approach it like if Alix didn’t know me and thought I did something to Kim. And, he doesn’t think I’m worthy of his brother, which I understand and kind of agree with.” She shoved Adrien before he could say anything. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not maligning myself, I’m complimenting him.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

“And I think you two might have a lot in common, you and Damian. From what I’ve gathered from scattered comments here and there, Damian grew up in a really harsh environment. Lots of criticism, not a lot of love. Lots of expectations with little praise for him. Perfection expected, anything less punished.”

“Sounds rough,” Adrien nodded. He could empathize. That sounded familiar.

“Yeah. That was before Bruce took him. But things like that, they leave a mark, you know.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I really do.”

“Dick!” Marinette called out and waved to him.

Adrien smiled and waved politely. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. He had been ecstatic when they first discovered who the father was. He had only heard good things about Dick, which calmed him significantly. But as time passed, he had the chance to start thinking, or rather overthinking and worrying, panicking in other words. He didn’t know him, not really, just the public perception, but Chloe and Alya both said he seemed a bit too perfect. He seemed to be hiding something, but nobody could figure out what it was. And from Adrien’s experience, every time something seemed too perfect, it was. Every. Time.

Dick smiled back and waved before returning his focus to Damian. He laid a heavy hand on Damian’s shoulder and leaned close to him. “You will be respectful. Understood? She is the mother of your niece or nephew…”

Damian scoffed, “Tt.”

“Like that. That is not okay. She’s already agreed to a blood test, purely for you. I like her, Damian. You don’t need to, but you do need to be civil.”

Damian pushed Dick’s hand off his shoulder. “I can be civil with the grimalkin.”

Dick yanked Damian back toward him. “You will not speak that way about Marinette, understand? Even if she wasn’t the mother of my child, she wouldn’t deserve it. But she is the mother of my child, whether you believe it or not. I do. That is my child. That is my girlfriend. They are both going to be your family and you will not disrespect them like that if you want to be in our lives.”

Damian’s eyes flashed with a hurt expression before returning to a practiced coldness. “Understood,” he answered curtly.

Dick turned just in time to welcome Marinette with a hug and a kiss before extending a hand for Adrien. “Are you guys ready? Have you been to the arcade already?”

“No, but has Marinette wowed you guys with her gaming skills yet?” Adrien asked with a sly grin.

“No,” Dick’s smile grew as he turned to Marinette. “She mentioned being good at one game, I’ve forgotten the name of, but I didn’t know it was an overall skill. Been holding out on me?”

Marinette giggled and rolled her eyes. “Well there goes my chance to hustle you. You’ll think you’re ready for it now.”

“Think?” Dick raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, you’ll never be prepared,” she grinned cheekily and bopped him on the nose before walking away laughing.

“And I suppose you find that charming instead of condescending?” Damian asked stiffly.

“I think I’m in love,” Dick swooned chasing after her.

Damian scoffed. “If I’d said that, he’d have lectured me for an hour,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s all in the delivery and the attitude,” Adrien commented falling into step beside him. Damian did a double take, not having expected Adrien to still be there or to have heard him.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Damian growled.

“I’m not offering,” Adrien answered casually.

“How about starting with a shooting game?” Dick offered. Damian perked up but deflated quickly seeing him standing next to a basketball themed game.

“I haven’t played basketball in years, that would be fun,” Adrien offered.

“You played basketball too? So did I,” Dick grinned at him. “Let’s see what you remember.”

The game was close but Dick just edged him out with a few more baskets. Adrien shrugged good-naturedly. “Eh, fencing was always more my speed anyway. I bet Marinette would kill at this though.”

Dick turned to Marinette with an excited smile and got the game set up for her. “You played basketball?”

“No, not even for fun,” she chuckled with a slight blush.

“Oh… did you want to still try?” The excitement in his voice was impossible to resist. He was so desperate for all of them to get along and have fun and she was going to do everything she could to help him achieve that.

“Absolutely.” The game wasn’t even close. Marinette destroyed him. “In your face!” She grinned up at him and cupped his face. “And such a pretty face it is.”

Dick pretended to pout at her before waggling his eyebrows. “You think my face is pretty?”

“So, you lied” Damian commented with narrowed eyes.

Marinette patted Dick’s cheek. “Not just pretty, gorgeous.” And turned to Damian, shaking her head. “No. I just have really good hand-eye coordination. Lots of practice with that. But I never played any sports outside of gym.”

“You should see her fence,” Adrien spoke up. “I gave her a few lessons and so did another of our friends and she was already really good. But, if she actually tried, she’d be amazing.”

Marinette scoffed. “Decent maybe. But not at Adrien or Kagami’s level. They are both really good. Adrien could have made the national team if he had wanted,” Marinette bragged. “Kagami did.”

“Damian does sword fighting!” Dick offered. “Maybe he could practice with you guys sometime.”

“Sword fighting is very different from fencing,” Damian deferred.

Adrien nodded. “It really is. Completely different skills. He would probably destroy me at sword fighting.”

“I could probably destroy you at fencing as well,” Damian responded calmly.

“Okay. Well then, bring it on little man,” Adrien chuckled. “I’d love to get the epee out again.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him in response and Marinette laughed at the reaction causing him to switch his focus to her. “Your turn Damian. What do you want to play?”

Damian huffed and looked around. He really didn’t want to share his favorite games with them. But he did want to put them in their place, which meant destroying them in games, and his best chance of doing that was in the games he was best at. It was a Catch 22. Finally Dick made the decision for him. “Let’s play Cheese Viking. Damian is a wiz at that. I think he has all the high scores.”

“Oh, you must be amazing at that!” Marinette cooed.

After a few hours of playing different games, Damian trying to destroy them at each one, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not, they decided to get something to eat and take a walk around.

“Ooh, a carousel! Let’s go for a ride,” Marinette exclaimed excitedly.

Dick grinned and started heading to get in line. “That sounds like a lot of fun. You coming Damian?”

Damian scoffed at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a child. I’m not immature enough to engage in such trivialities.” He gave Marinette a condescending look.

Dick gave Damian a dark look, but Marinette shrugged with a smile. “I am.” She turned to Dick with an unaffected smile. “You want to come or stay with Damian?”

“I’ll stay with him,” Adrien spoke up from behind Damian. “You guys go ahead.”

They watched as Marinette pulled Dick onto the carousel and found a pink unicorn to ride. Dick helped her get on it and stepped close so his arms were around her and the pole. The ride started with a jerk and Marinette let out a loud, light laugh that Dick quickly matched. They watched them go around a few times, seeing them staring into each other’s eyes with adoring smiles along with loving caresses.

Adrien finally spoke up gently. “I know you want to protect your family, but she doesn’t deserve the hostility. And I know you won’t listen to me, but as one overprotective brother to another, she isn’t your enemy.”

“She is just another undeserving, unworthy, desperate, pathetic person. Nothing I’ve seen so far has changed my mind.” Damian spoke plainly, not bothering to look back at Adrien.

Adrien’s whole body stiffened. When he finally spoke there was a base hostility and coldness in his voice he hadn’t used since he last spoke with his father. “You can’t even comprehend her life so far.”

Damian scoffed at him. Like this person could understand what Damian had been through.

“I don’t care if you’re Batman himself. I don’t care if you lost everything. I know you’ve gone through a lot. I don’t know what and neither does Marinette, just that you’ve had to go through unfair shit, too,” he hurried to correct seeing Damian’s reaction. “But you still can’t comprehend everything she’s done and risked for even strangers let alone the people she loves. How many times she stood between an akuma and someone who was too weak to protect themselves. How many times she got hurt. How many times she died. Hell, she doesn’t even remember. All to protect complete strangers who had nobody else. She’s a goddamned hero and quite frankly too good for your family,” he growled.

“Is there anyone this angel of yours isn’t too good for?” Damian taunted.

“No,” Adrien responded without hesitation.

“Why aren’t you dating her then?”

“Realizing someone is amazing and too good for this world doesn’t mean you would work in a romantic relationship. She’s more important to me than just a romance. She is my family. So is that baby. And now so is your brother. Just like she’s now yours. You need to come to terms with that.” He switched his focus to Marinette and Dick lost in their own world on the Carousel, eyes for each other only. The smile on her lips was the most joyful and carefree one he’d seen in years. He prayed it stayed that way.

“You don’t know what Dick’s had to go through, how much he’s suffered, how much he takes on. He’s too good for her.” Damian answered quietly.

Adrien nodded. “You’re right I don’t know. That’s why I’m giving him a chance.”

“I won’t let her hurt him,” Damian stated lowly.

Adrien nodded. “Nor him, her. Glad we could come to an understanding.” Damian glared at him but looked over to Dick as he and Marinette walked back over.

“Damn it!” Dick groaned as his phone sounded a distinctive ring.

“Maybe it isn’t bad?” Marinette tried.

“It’s always bad. When has it ever meant anything other than I had to leave?” He frowned as he answered the phone and walked a bit away from the group.

“Something up?” Adrien asked.

Marinette nodded with a sigh. “Night’s over. That’s work. He’ll have to go in for at least a few hours. Want us to take you home, Damian?”

Damian looked away with a frown. It wasn’t a scowl or a pointed comment, so Marinette was taking it as a win. “I’ll have Alfred come pick me up.”

Marinette nodded with an understanding smile that rubbed Damian the wrong way. Why did she have to be so understanding? “Okay. We’ll wait with you until he arrives.”

“That is not necessary, I assure you.” Damian responded coldly. “I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe but it isn’t only about you. I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but it’s a family’s job to worry about each other. It’s more for them than for you.” Marinette explained. “So they aren’t worried.”

Damian nodded curtly, accepting her explanation.

“Does this happen a lot?” Adrien asked.

“Dick having to go into work?” She asked with a surprised look. Adrien nodded. Marinette looked over to where he was talking to consider her answer. “I guess… yeah. It’s happening more frequently lately, I think. But then again, we’re together more now so maybe I’m just now noticing. But he tries to get back as soon as he can. Nothing you can do about emergencies. At least he doesn’t zone out at work and forget we have a date until he comes and gets me, like I have.” She shrugged.

Adrien frowned at her explanation. It was starting to sound all too familiar. A parent working all the time, leaving in the middle of family time, or not even showing up for it because they were too busy with something more important. He prayed he was wrong. Dick did seem to really be invested in Marinette and their baby… but then again so had his Dad.

Chapter 14

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#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - carousel

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