#all these people I hardly know and don’t have any memory of are touching me and hugging me and even kissing me on the cheek and shoulder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohbo-ohno · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 11 - Gags

Ghost x Soap - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost has a unique way to get the mouthy new prospect to learn when to shut up. Johnny is more into it than he probably should be. (Soap POV)

cw: dom!ghost, sub!soap, undernegotiated kink, muzzles, johnny doesn't technically consent but he is into everything happening here, consensual oral sex

note: this doesn't feature gags very heavily tbh, but they are technically there so i'm counting it! also it's very unedited, leave me alone

Johnny scowls, poking the thing on the table in front of him with one finger like it’ll jump out and bite him. “The hell is this?”

Ghost crosses his arms over his chest, the worn mask covering any reaction Johnny might be able to parse. He’s hardly a foot from Johnny, staying at his side instead of keeping the card table between them. “You gone dumb?”

Johnny scowls, kicking back in his seat and balancing the metal chair on two legs, one foot planted on the ground and the other over his knee. “Och, ye ken I’m sharp. Dinnae ken what you want me to do with tha’, though. Ye’ve really got to learn to use yer words, Ghostie. Not sure how anyone ‘round here ever–”

Johnny doesn’t finish his sentence, the air knocked out of him as his chair is knocked off balance and he falls flat on his ass. He oofs when he hits the ground, blinking dumbly up at the man above him.

Ghost hooks his foot around the leg of the chair he’d just kicked over, shoving it back up and away from Johnny. “Sit properly, you damn brat.”

Johnny rubs his head a bit, sitting up and scowling. “Ye always been this much of an arsehole?”

He gets the distinct sense that Ghost is cocking an eyebrow, even if he can’t see it. “Yes. Now sit in the chair like a goddamn adult.”

Johnny obeys silently, mentally licking his wounds and giving Ghost a pointed glare as he sets both of his feet firmly on the ground, all four chair legs steady.

“Good,” Ghost grunts, a pathetic excuse for praise that still has Johnny sitting a little straighter in the chair. “Now put the muzzle on or I’ll do it for you.”

Johnny’s eyes widen a fraction as they dart between the black lump sitting on the table in front of him and the biker now stepping close enough to touch. “Oh, no…” he says, nudging at the thing again with a knuckle until it lays a little flatter, the shape of it obvious now. “Ye’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

Ghost is dead silent, tapping his fingers on one bicep as he stares down at Johnny.

“Ye want to fuckin’ muzzle me?” Johnny growls, lip curling. “Like a dog?”

Ghost’s head cocks to the side, eyelids low. “You clearly can’t keep your mouth shut. You know how much we had to pay off Keller to keep him from calling the pigs after that brawl you started?”

Johnny can’t stop his lips from curling up at the memory of that night – it’s not often a man gets the chance to see bottles and fists flying like that, and the vicious reaming he’d gotten from Price had been more than worth it.

“Nothin’ for you to be smirkin’ about,” Ghost growls, planting one big hand on the table and leaning even closer. “You keep gettin’ yourself in trouble, just trusting we’ll be there to pull you out. You ain’t even a brother yet – no patch, no cut. You’re lucky we don’t string you up for the other prospects to use as a punching bag with the way you act.”

Johnny scowls, hackles raising. “I do more work than any of the other prospects combined. Ye tellin’ me the boys can’t handle some trouble every now and then?”

“It ain’t every now and then, and it doesn’t matter what we can handle,” Ghost says, leaning close enough that his nose is just inches away from Johnny’s. “You’re a prospect. Your job is to do the dirty work so the brothers don’t have to and to keep your head down. You,” he jabs a finger in Johnny’s face, tone deepening. “Are pissin’ people off.”

Ghost stands back up, grabbing the muzzle from the table and straightening out the two thick leather straps. “So I’m gonna set you straight. You’ll wear this until I figure you can be trusted with your mouth again.”

“Hold on–” Johnny starts, pushing himself up from the chair with flaming cheeks and an actively bruising ego. He doesn’t get a chance to finish his complaint, Ghost using one hand to force him back into his chair and the other to smack the muzzle over Johnny’s mouth.

“Mmph!” Johnny grunts, clawing at Ghost’s hands and trying to yank the leather off his face. Ghost shifts so his hand holds his jaw closed, but Johnny can already feel that the material is stiff enough around his underchin that he wouldn’t be able to talk even without the palm over his mouth. Something hard presses against his lips, and he seals them shut as best he can.

“Always fuckin’ bitching,” Ghost complains, his free hand shoving Johnny forward by the back of his head, moving behind his body and using his weight to hold Johnny’s chest flat to the table, arm laid heavily over his shoulder blades. “You just never shut up, do you?”

Johnny tries to shout, writhing as best he can under Ghost as he feels the straps being tightened around his head. One wraps around the back of his neck, connected to the bottom corners of the muzzle, while the other laces above his ears and around his skull, keeping the mask tight to his face.

There’s something flat and hard in the bottom of it, pressing his jaw closed and keeping him from opening his mouth when the muzzle is fully tightened. With the way he’s being pushed into the muzzle as Ghost ties it, the hard plastic against his lips forces them open so it can rest between his teeth, just thick enough to keep his mouth open around it but soft enough that he can chew on it.

Ghost grunts as he pushes back off Johnny, hand planted at the base of his skull to hold him down. Johnny’s eyes fly wide in panic as he hears the soft sound of something metal clinking over his shoulder, two little cold spots coming to rest just beneath the straps.

“There,” Ghost grunts, his weight disappearing suddenly and letting Johnny up. He rockets away from the table as quickly as he can, hands flying to the mask and fumbling with it.

It’s made of good, thick leather, with something to hold the shape of a muzzle in the material and a few holes poked in front of his mouth and nose so he doesn’t suffocate despite the plastic in his mouth. The straps are thick, the metal buckles digging into the shaved sides of his head, and when he reaches back to try and undo them he feels small, metal squares hanging off each one.

A soft jingling sound yanks Johnny’s attention back over to Ghost, his heart in his throat. Ghost is tugging a necklace away from his chest, thumb holding it out far enough that Johnny can clearly see the little silver key dangling from the chain.

He tries to worm his fingers beneath the straps, then tries the edges of the muzzle. Neither work. He pushes his tongue against the thing between his teeth, but it doesn’t move even an inch.

“You’ll stay locked in that until Price or I decide you’ve earned another chance,” Ghost says, tucking the key back beneath his shirt. “If you fuck this up, you’re done. No more prospecting.”

That makes Johnny panic almost more than the muzzle, the thought of losing even the chance of a new family almost too much to bear.

Ghost barrels ahead, unbothered by the way Johnny’s chest heaves as he scratches at the leather. “You want to eat, you come find me. You want to drink, you come find me. We’ll get you taken care of. But you try and get anyone to take that off for you, and you’re never steppin’ foot back in the clubhouse. Understood?”

Johnny nods slowly, adrenaline begining to fade as the reality of his new position settles in. He forces his breathing to calm a bit, letting himself consider just how restricting the muzzle really is.

Ghost’s mask is as still and impassive as ever, but there’s the slightest hint of approval in his tone. “Good. Now get outta here, I got shit to do.”

Johnny’s not proud of how quickly he leaves, but his focus on getting to his room so he can hide just barely drowns out the harsh laugh coming from behind him.

Johnny doesn’t leave his room at all the next day. Hungry as he is, his ego hurts more than his stomach and the thought of facing any of the boys with this thing on his face is enough to keep him under lockdown.

Day two isn’t as easy, and reality begins to set in before the sun even rises.

He’s not getting the muzzle off. Ghost isn’t coming to him, he’s got to go to Ghost. That’s just the way it is, and Johnny has to find a way to work with it.

He creeps out of his room at five a.m., his hunger having kept him awake for most of the night. He’s far more focused on keeping himself near-silent than he usually is at this time, cringing at the thought of one of the boys coming out to see who’s slinking around and coming face to face with Johnny and his muzzle.

He knocks on Ghost’s door as quietly as he can, thankful that the enforcer still lives in the clubhouse even if most of the patched-in members have their own places. It’s really just the prospects and a couple of the executive members who live in the main house full time, but luckily Ghost is one of them.

Johnny has to knock several times before the door is finally thrown open in front of him to show Ghost maskless and glaring, wearing only a pair of boxers.

Johnny blinks a few times quickly, gives himself just a single heartbeat to glance at the miles of pale skin in front of him, then forces himself to make eye-contact, toying with the attachment between his teeth. He’s seen Ghost’s face a couple times before, usually in the gym, but it’s a rare enough thing that it still feels like a treat – even with the mean twist to Ghost’s lips.

“Do you have any idea what fuckin’ time it is?”

Johnny blinks innocently, holding up a five with his fingers. Ghost’s scowl grows, and Johnny finds himself thankful for the muzzle for the first time when it hides his smirk.

“Get in here,” Ghost grunts, grabbing Johnny by the mohawk and shoving him into the room. He stumbles, taken off guard, but quickly straightens back up and runs a hand through his hair, glaring at Ghost.

“You spent all day yesterday hiding and pouting, makin’ Gaz do all your chores, then you wake me up at the ass crack of dawn,” Ghost complains, shouldering past Johnny to sit heavily on his bed, the mattress squeaking beneath his weight. “Let me guess, you’re hungry?”

Johnny nods eagerly, taking quick steps forward. It’s not quite as embarrassing as he thought it would be to wear the muzzle in front of Ghost. He doesn’t sit beside the enforcer, unwilling to risk pissing him off when his stomach is rumbling so strongly.

Ghost narrows his eyes before sighing and reaching up to pull the key forward, taunting him wih it. “On your knees, then.”

Johnny hestates, shifting his weight.

Ghost glares up at him, snapping expectantly. “Well? I can’t fuckin’ reach you from here, can I?”

Part of Johnny wants to mime his way through insisting that Ghost just stand to unlock the damn muzzle. Still, a much larger, much hungrier, much hornier part of him is more than willing to drop to his knees for this man.

He takes it a little far, maybe, inching forward until he’s firmly between Ghost’s legs and his knees are resting against the box spring his mattress rests on, kneeling up high and using Ghost’s thighs to balance himself. But Johnny’s always been a bit of a slut, and he can see the outline of Ghost’s cock through his boxers, and really he’s only a man.

Ghost pushes his head down until his chin is pressed against his chest, broad palm and calloused fingers easily holding Johnny in place so he can tug the small locks off. A moment later he laces his fingers through the thick mohawk, pulling Johnny’s face up and catching the muzzle as it falls.

Johnny can’t help but groan, stretching his jaw and rubbing it with one hand, leaning his weight to the side and onto one of Ghost’s thighs.. “Fuckin’ hell,” he complains, rubbing his face against the back of his hand. “Could hardly breathe in tha’ thing.”

Ghost scoffs, lightly cuffing Johnny in the side of the head. “Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine.” His nose curls a moment later as he drops the muzzle by his side. “Breath fuckin’ reeks though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Johnny sneers. “I couldnae exactly brush my teeth – ye see, a controlling bastard locked me in a fuckin’ muzzle!”

Ghost rests his big hand on the side of Johnny’s face, a threat of something more violent. “And you’re proving exactly why I did it right now with all that fucking chatter. If you knew how to shut the fuck up, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, and I wouldn’t be having to babysit you.” He smacks his palm lightly against Johnny’s cheek, smirking at the instinctual flinch. “Now stay.”

Johnny listens, but not without complaining, watching as Ghost lumbers to the en suite. “Muzzles, and now commands? Ye do know I’m a fuckin’ man, don’t ye? I won’t run through tunnels or wag my tail or whatever other weird shit you want me to do.”

Ghost comes back hardly a minute later, damp toothbrush with toothpaste laid out on it in hand and a distinctly unimpressed expression. Johnny’s smirk grows.

“Maybe ye’re into this, is that it? I won’t kinkshame, mate – if ye like yer ladies barkin’ for ye in bed, more power to ye.” He holds his hands up mockingly as Ghost settles back in front of him, feet set closer on either side of Johnny’s knees than they were before. “Doesnae work for me, o’ course, so ye’d probably get off quicker if ye found one of the club whores to–”

Johnny’s rudely interupted by the toothbrush being shoved into his mouth with no warning. He rears back, grabbing Ghost’s wrist to try and yank him away and utterly failing. Ghost levels him with an unimpressed look, eyebrow cocked as he roughly shoves the toothbrush to the back of Johnny’s mouth, scrubbing his molars.

“Do you need somethin’ in your mouth to keep you quiet, is that it?” Ghost asks, his other hand coming around to grab Johnny by the back of the neck and reel him closer, holding him still as he begins to brush his teeth. “Need someone to force you to do somethin’ with it or you just won’t listen, huh?”

Johnny grunts a disagreement, eyes twisted up as he cringes from Ghost’s rough treatment. Much more of this and he’s sure his gums’ll be bleeding.

“Still,” Ghost orders, holding Johnny steady enough that he has no problem thoroughly scrubbing every bit of hit teeth. “Tongue out,” he says, and Johnny hardly hesitates this time, letting his tongue loll out and rest on his lip, albeit with a glare.

He doesn’t miss the way Ghost’s eyes heat at the sight, or the way the outline of his cock becomes more pronounced when the brush reaches far enough back in Johnny’s throat that he gags.

He plays it up a little. So what? Ghost is probably the hottest person he’s ever seen, and Johnny doesn’t shy away from a chance to work up the people around him, especially when they’re almost naked and shoving something to the back of his throat.

When Ghost deems him clean – well, his mouth clean, he completely ignores the copious amounts of drool and toothpaste dripping down Johnny’s chin that neither of them have bothered to wipe away – he squeezes Johnny’s neck, once, pulling away.

“Go spit that out,” he says, nudging Johnny’s knee with his foot and passing him the brush. “Then come back and we’ll get you fed. Then you can leave me the hell alone.”

Johnny doesn’t even pretend that he believes Ghost’s grouchy tone, just smirks and crudely swipes at the drool on his face as he heads to the en suite.

When he comes back out the TV has been turned on to a channel playing some old reruns of a sitcom he just vaguely recognizes, and he sees Ghost typing something on his phone, feet still set wide enough to allow Johnny to sink to his knees between them again. He glances down when Johnny does that, but largely ignores him until he finishes whatever he was typing.

“Another prospect’ll bring up breakfast in a few,” he says a few minutes later, phone discarded on the bed as he looks down at Johnny. “You’ll have to find a way to make it up to them, all these extra chores they’ve gotta do for you.”

Johnny scowls, insulted. “I carry my weight around here,” he defends, leaning back on his ankles a bit when Ghost only rumbles a low sound. “I do! I get more assignments than any of the other prospects, and I clean up after them when they make a mess anyway.”

“Still,” Ghost hums. Wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s head and dragging him closer. “You’ll have to keep doin’ all that, even now. You can’t just hide away until I decide you’ve earned your voice again.”

Johnny glares a bit, any heat that was building in his core fading rapidly as the conversation carries on. “I’m not fuckin’ hiding.”

“You didn’t leave your room once yesterday,” Ghost says, deadpan.

Johnny almost wants to growl. “I was tired.”

Ghost snorts, fingers scratching lightly at the shaved side of Johnny’s head. “Sure, pup. Whatever you say.”

Johnny forces himself not to reply to that, sure that he’d somehow just dig himself into a deeper pit. The muzzle still lays next to Ghost’s thigh, and it doesn’t escape Johnny that he’s got no control of when it goes back on his face.

Silence has never come easily to Johnny before, but he finds it surprisingly not-diffuclt to indulge now, letting himself sit quietly between Ghost’s knees as the TV drones on behind him. Ghost’s hand shifts to the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair and his nails lightly dragging across sensitive skin.

It’s no less than five minutes later when Ghost speaks again.

“You wanna suck my cock?”

Johnny considers, for a very brief moment, being offended. That passes quickly when he sees that Ghost is entirely serious, not even a hint of humor on his face, and Johnny cautiously shifts on his knees. “Ye serious? Thought ye liked the birds, Ghost.”

Ghost grunts, neither a confirmation or a denial. “You want me in your mouth or not?”

Johnny waits a second, considers it. He knows he’s going to say yes, but he tries to give the appearance of not being too easy. From the lazy way Ghost watches him, he’s sure that he’s not fooling the older biker, but he’s got enough pride to try.

Still, only a few breaths later he nods and says, “Pull it out, then.”

Ghost snorts, but listens, pulling his cock from his boxers and tugging at it lazily.

Johnny’s mouth starts watering as soon as he sees it, desperate to wrap his lips around the enforcer and taste his cum. He leans forward on instinct, tounge stretching out to try and lick Ghost and bring him to full hardness.

“No,” Ghost scolds, and the hand in Johnny’s hair suddenly shifts into a much tighter grip, holding him away from the cock hanging in front of his face. “I didn’t give you permission yet, did I? This is why you need that muzzle, pup, you’ve got no control over yourself.”

Johnny gives Ghost a look. “Ye like controllin’ me plenty for the both o’ us.”

Ghost smirks. “That’s why you’re gonna take me down your throat and let me lock that muzzle on with my cum in your mouth.”

“What about breakfast?”

Ghost finally drags Johnny closer, resting the ruddy head of his cock against Johnny’s cupid’s bow. “We’ll see if you can earn it.”

Johnny opens his mouth to defend himself, but before he can get even a word out, Ghost is pushing his head forward and filling his mouth with cock.

Johnny makes a surprised sound, tongue squirming against the underside of Ghost’s length. His hands insticutally spasm against Ghost’s thigh, but he gets himself under control a moment later and relaxes into the slow push of the hand on the back of his neck.

“There you go,” Ghost groans, thighs falling open more on either side of Johnny as he leans into the pleasure. “Take all of me, c’mon.”

Johnny wraps one of his hands as best he can around Ghost’s thigh, holding on tight as he forces himself to breathe through his nose and gag as little as possible. He can’t help the way he tears up a bit, breaths puffing harshly from his nostrils.

Ghost groans above him when Johnny’s lips seal around the base of his cock, throat working furiously to milk him. “Fuck, that’s a good mouth.”

Johnny tries to pull back a bit and start to really suck Ghost’s soul from his cock, but the hand on the back of his head doesn’t let him move an inch, only grinds his face a little more deeply into his crotch. Johnny reaches up brush away the few tears leaking from his eyes and nearly chokes when Ghost groans, thrusting up into his mouth.

“You look pretty when you cry,” Ghost rumbles, leading Johnny’s head in a slow journey back up his cock, not letting it slip from his lips. “Much prettier than when you bitch.”

Johnny tries to force himself to be offended, but he’s far too busy focusing on the way Ghost slides his face up and down his cock, trying to suck and lick where he can to maintain some control of the situation.

Ghost uses his mouth almost like a fleshlight, holding Johnny so tightly that he can’t move any faster or slower than he’s allowed to, forced to stay at the exact pace Ghost wants. It drives him a little crazy, the total lack of control he has even though it’s his mouth making Ghost moan above him.

Ghost holds him closer to the tip of his dick for a few moments, just sawing the first few inches of his cock beween Johnny��s lips. On instict, Johnny lets his teeth graze the head just a bit, enough to be sure that Ghost can feel it, and a few thrusts later Ghost is shooting down his throat.

In the surge of his orgasm Ghost’s hand goes limp, and Johnny is able to shove his face down to the very base of Ghost’s cock so his cum goes right down his throat, milking him as best he can. Ghost’s groans are loud from above him, and Johnny palms his own half-hard dick as he drinks the spunk down.

When Ghost finally lets him pull off, Johnny can’t help but smirk proudly, brushing the back of his hand over his lips to clean off any drool and practically preening between Ghost’s legs.

The older man only huffs, tucking himself back into his boxers and looking down at Johnny with what almost seems like fondness.

“Should’ve told Price I’d keep you gagged like that instead,” he muses, reaching forward to thumb at the corner of Johnny’s lip. “Put this mouth to good use instead of just shuttin’ you up. Two birds, one stone, yeah?”

Johnny scoffs and rolls his eyes, but leans into the hand on his face. “Ye’d never get any work done. I’d have you sucked dry before ye could even have breakfast.”

Ghost snorts, and Johnny feels his chest warm a bit at the sound. It only cools the slightest bit when Ghost reaches for the muzzle, straightening the leather in his hands a bit.

Johnny leans back on his haunches, trying not to scowl. “What about letting me eat?”

Ghost tilts his head, considering. “You let me put this back on you until food’s ready and I’ll let you hump my leg to get yourself off, how’s that sound?”

Johnny hesitates a moment, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Or,” Ghost continues, rolling his shoulders back and straightening until he truly looms over Johnny. “You can keep this off and kneel between my legs downstairs, let everyone see how much better behaved you already are.”

Johnny scowls at that, cheeks flaming. He leans forward, pushing himself up with his palms on Ghost’s thigh and presents his face for the muzzle. He doesn’t bother saying a word, letting his half-glare do the work for him.

Ghost only smirks, locking the muzzle around his jaw with an efficiency that speaks to practice. Johnny opens his mouth easily for the attachment this time, jaw aching slightly at the forced spread.

“Good choice,” Ghost says, locking it tight around Johnny’s head. He leans back a moment later, pushing Johnny down with a heavy hand on his shoulder and shifting a leg between his.

“Now,” Ghost says, tapping his foot on the ground and running a hand over the smooth leather covering Johnny’s face. “Why don’t you get yourself off so you can relax, hm?”

Mask hiding the feral smile growing on his lips, Johnny wraps his arms around Ghost’s leg and lets his hips work against the muscle pressed against him.

#ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #kinktober 2024 #kinktober day 11 #ghoap smut #ghostsoap smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 9 months ago

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Bucky Barnes | Rebellion Series | Caution

Part one of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?

Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.

Words: 34OO

You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.

You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.

And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–

Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.

A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.

The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…

“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”

“Steve, I–”

“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”

Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.

“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.

But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.

“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”

You ignore him and focus on your breathing.

“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.

The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”

Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.

The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.

“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”

He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.

“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”

He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”

…

Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”

“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.

“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.

“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”

“Has she started to trust you?”

Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.

If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.

“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.

If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…

He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?

Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.

“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.

He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.

“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.

He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”

He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.

“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”

Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”

Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.

Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.

“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”

Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”

A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.

You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”

Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”

You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”

His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.

…

The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.

Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.

However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.

Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.

Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.

They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.

Again.

…

“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.

“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.

Bucky suppresses his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.

“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.

Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”

Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”

Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…

Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”

The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”

He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.

Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.

And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing of course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.

Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.

Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”

Bucky can only grunt in agreement.

…

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.

Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”

Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”

“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. “The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”

Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”

Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.

Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.

He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.

The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.

A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.

And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?

#oh my fucking god #im doing it #im posting a slow burn #with buckys pov for crying out loud #i am terribly sorry for being gone for so goddamn long im a busy woman #BUT quality over quantity amirite?#enjoy my lovelies and please let me know what you think #feedback does genuinely make me post quicker (i cant help it)#rebellion series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #series

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i-live-in-spite · 3 months ago

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Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in.

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern.

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat.

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life.

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy.

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.”

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go.

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.”

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.”

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub.

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me.

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he.

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #angst #transgender #trans masc #spencer reid x reader #self love #coping mechanism

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andauril · 19 days ago

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Chapter Title: Heritage

Chapter Summary: Silaestra regains some of her memories, and learns a terrifying truth about herself.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

CW: Allusions to Cannibalism

Excerpt:

“You know, I didn’t realise you and I were so alike. I - I felt paralysed to do anything about Cazador for so many decades. I gave up on myself. I gave up any hope of escape after a few lashes. Bhaal controls you in much the same way. I don’t know how you can beat him, but I know this: you must try. The half-life of a mind addled slave is worse than death - don’t become his. I wouldn’t live another century as one for all the moonstones in Evereska.” Astarion’s face was raw, open; his tone pleading. She couldn’t detect a hint of disgust in his voice. And it didn’t make much sense. “I’d understand if you’d rather walk away.” Silaestra couldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t want to become beholden to Bhaal, but how did one fight against the destiny a deity had laid out for her? “Oh please. Nothing has changed, apart from that I now know why you tried to stake me that night. So I’d rather not walk away, if it’s all the same for you.” He cleared his throat. “You know, though I don’t look a day over one hundred” - Silaestra couldn’t help but chuckle a little at those words - “I was alive, the first time your dear siblings first arose in Baldur’s Gate. I didn’t get too see much of it, truth be told. I spend most of that time locked up in the kennels. Cazador didn’t want to risk losing his precious spawn to the children of a dead god.” “I think … I think I was alive back then, too.” Her skull throbbed with pain still. If she’d been alive to sow chaos back then, she was truly glad that her path hadn’t crossed Astarion’s. He likely wouldn’t have walked away from it hale and whole - let alone alive. “I killed … so many people, Astarion. It must have been hundreds.” Perhaps thousands. Her memory was still full of holes. But what little she did now remember of her past did not paint a flattering picture of the person she’d been. She’d always suspected as much, but the extend of it … It was so much worse than she could ever have imagined. “I must have brought thousands to Cazador over the past two hundred years. None of them left the palace alive. But that’s not who we are anymore. We get to make our own choices now.” There was that pleading tone again. He might not say it aloud, but she could sense it, in the way his eyes met hers, wide and afraid - Make the right choice. She wanted too. The last thing she wanted to betray that ill-advised trust he’d decided to put in her, to force him to regret not walking away from her while he still could. She didn’t want to be beholden to Bhaal, but … “I can’t do it alone.” And it seemed hardly fair to put that burden on him, especially not while his own tormentor still remained alive. And planned to make a sacrifice out of him. “How lucky for you that I don’t intent to leave you alone with this, love. I meant what I said that night, when you tried to stake me: I’ll help you get through this. As it so happens, I know a thing or two about not being in control of one’s own actions. Or to be marked by some vile, sadistic monster.” He raised hand, and gentle, with the tip of his finger, lifted up her chin. The coolness of his touch eased a sigh from her lips. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch. Breathing still hurt, but it felt just a little easier now, meeting his eyes.

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elf-osamu · 1 year ago

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“YOUR LAST MEMORY OF ME”

[ masterlist ] [ reblogs are very appreciated ]

angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, romantic relationship, jing yuan x gn!reader

warning(s) : major character death, the concept of death is discussed, implied reference for the high cloud quintet lore !!!!, blood, injuries, depictions of violence !!!!

word count : 2517 words

“i think i got too many memories getting in the way of me; you only get what you grieve; the only thing that’s ever stopping me is me; i testify if i die in my sleep, then know that my life was a killer dream; and all my childhood heroes have fallen off or died” — song: stay frosty royal milk tea by fall out boy

a/n: i’ve almost cried while writing this. as a jing yuan lover, i’m terribly sorry (it will happen again).

to be part of a long life species isn’t as easy as mortals make it to be. since their lives are nothing but a fleeting moment which will be soon forgotten, they tend to hope for a longer time to accomplish their goals, rushing every task to meet the temporary relief that it brings — a sweet feeling which one could indulge themself in, but only for a brief moment. as a consequence of this, they’re quite envious of those who don’t have to worry about such matters: those people can enjoy life to the fullest and simultaneously take things at a slow pace, savoring each second of their existence without being overwhelmed by their imminent end; new experiences are always near the corner of their days, quietly waiting for the perfect time to appear and give opportunities of every kind; the weight of death isn’t a matter to reflect upon, since it’s something far too distant to be frightened by it.

a smile was something that jing yuan hardly got to see on that face he had profoundly grown fond of — yours. one could have defined it as an almost imperceptible change, but the way your lips slightly curved in response of his affirmations hadn’t ever escaped his attentive eyes. his life had been consistent for many years, still as a lake in a flawlessly sunny day, with his usual duties and habits which never seemed to change despite the passage of time. however now he had gotten used to your presence and he could have never substituted it. those lips he loved to touch with his, those hands he relished with his when he was looking for reassurance, those eyes he would have treasured with his life if they had been gems — you. jing yuan would have never gotten tired of you.

this is what short life species harshly tell themselves and others — they can’t but concentrate on what they don’t possess, on what their hands will never reach, on what they will never be able to accomplish. nevertheless, said behavior is rather commonly found in the majority of human beings with no distinctions made; envy is a comprehensibile emotion, but when used inappropriately it can develop in resentment. the inherent desire of attaining what we’ve wished for isn’t possible at all times — but we continue on our path forward, often stumbling along the way when it gets too difficult to move on.

the general’s soul wasn’t unblemished as many thought: you had gotten the chance to meet that part of him he tried to hide under a seemingly exemplery mask of polite yet playful remarks. you had tended to his injuries, taking care of his body while he narrated the story of some of his scars; you had listened to his usually unspoken worries, when the role he had to play for the majority of his life momentarily ended and he finally showed you that he was just a human being like any other — someone who had done both outstanding and terrible things. “i… i apologize for not being the hero you’ve heard of”, he had muttered the rare times he had allowed himself to cry; it had been too long ago since the last time he had opened up to someone in such a vulnerable way.

long life species know this too well: between the scars of their past and the hopes for their future, it isn’t rare to find people who are lost in their journey, surrounded by painful memories and feelings of desperation. to forget what one’s forced to remember can make themself cling to the old days and refuse to give a glance to the other side.

you were aware of jing yuan’s foibles and past mistakes — how could you have not? — but those things had never stopped you from loving him. as you were there to accept him for who he was, you could proudly say he did the same for you; patience and consideration were only a few of his characteristics, but they were greatly helpful when you were going through difficult times. jing yuan wouldn’t have ever judged your fears and thoughts: he would have sat next to you, grounding your mind from the stress that life could give you, and reminded you of his unfeigned adoration towards your being. you both had found comfort and solace with each other.

the general of the cloud knights of the xianzhou luofu, jing yuan, had lived for too many centuries to be truly able to count them. he was acclaimed by many people and frowned upon by others — but nobody could have never doubt his dexterity and strength when it came to swordsmanship: his exceptional abilities had been of considerable effectiveness in battles and, simultaneously, his carefulness and diplomacy couldn’t be disregarded in the slightest, since they kept the law and order in his nation.

death passively follows its natural course when the right time is known — it’s a neutral state which can’t be converted by the human mind, something… irreversible; many have tried to change this fact and many have failed. each stage of life is meaningful, thus to accept what’s going to happen someday is the wisest and least painful choice, though it has to be recognized how it can still be a tough journey. his loved companions, his long-lasting enemies, everybody he knew… he had lost them, either because of demise or a change of paths.

during his life, jing yuan had collided with friends, foes and even with himself — bonds were broken, rancour was deepened, distress was reinforced: all the experiences and emotions he had been carrying in his heart for centuries seemed to be never-ending. he did his best to hide his damaged self through loads of work and too many hours of sleep; after all he was one of the arbiter-generals — if he couldn’t do his job, who could have?

he was a symbol of hope: he was someone to use as a role model and as a pillar for anyone who was in need of support and protection — failure had never been an option for those of such great importance.

he just had to resist a little longer… then everything else would have ended and peace would have prospered, as it always did.

clashes of swords and polearms reverberated through the battlefield, they were the only sounds which could be heard alongside the warriors’ screams. destruction and ruination harshly painted the surroundings, scarring the ground where nature once flourished, while combatants fell and took their last breath.

an invasion of that magnitude hadn’t been on the xianzhou luofu for quite some time and nobody had been prepared for it; unexpected encounters were the most dangerous and tiring ones.

you were a brave and capable soldier — your technique wasn’t flawless, but your determination made up for the few careless mistakes you committed while fighting; jing yuan was aware of that, but his chest still hurt whenever he knew you were battling against his enemies. as much as he believed you could successfully take care of your well-being in dire situations, he had to fight the urge to be near you when you risked your life; said feeling was reciprocated though, since the general had caught a glimpse of your figure finishing off an enemy who had tried to attack him behind his back while he was busy with three other opponents. you had flashed a smile at your lover before going into battle again.

it was a tough confront between distinct factions, but hope had come to the surface again once you had taken a glance at how many enemies were still standing: only a few were alive and their counterattacks were growing more haphazard by the second — they hadn’t expected to fall behind in battle. the rush of adrenaline you felt before accompanied your weapon through taking the life of your opponents without backing away.

jing yuan had just fought against a few people when he saw a group of his opposite faction go near you; they were too many to be dealt at the same time, too many even for someone as experienced as him — so he couldn’t let them lift a finger on your body, it was a risk too huge to be taken so carelessly.

he rapidly moved to get to your side — you were rather distant from him but, if he had screamed, you would have been distracted and you would have gotten severe injuries… or even worse. his mind was spiralling while the general was trying to calm himself down and choose the best option available to keep yourself safe but, when he saw a spear coming too near your figure, his body moved on its own: he rushed towards you and, without giving you the time to react, he took what once was your place.

time seemed to stop for a moment as he tasted the flavour of pain that came from the deep skin tear on his chest: gushes of blood brutally tinted his armor and all of a sudden his face lost the color it had just a moment before.

you couldn’t feel anything at first, your brain had registered only a part of what had occurred. then, however, you realized what you had witnessed when you watched jing yuan’s body fall on the ground.

everything had happened in a few seconds, but it felt like an unceasing event: something atrocious was taking place, something you just wished to ignore and forget… but you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

therefore, a wave of rage hit you: you didn’t waste time to slaughter the ones who attacked the man you loved; when anyone tried to come near you, your blade was swift enough to promptly eliminate them and destroy anything that crossed its path, wounding whoever couldn’t understand the weight of the situation. it had been a while since you felt an emotion in such an intense and uncontrolled way, you looked feverish from how much strength you were using.

anger’s origin was different for everyone — yours was because of despondency.

you were moving too fast to process what was happening: the only clear thing your blurry vision could notice was the carmine blood that colored the soil and people’s armors, especially your own. you couldn’t feel the pain derived from your injuries, your clouded mind wasn’t able to process your physical state.

wrath was embracing you in its strong grip, the one thing that heartened you when you would have preferred to hide away in your own solitude.

as the only opponents left decided to retreat from the battle, you tossed your weapon to the side and fell on your knees; you were exhausted from your sudden outburst, your limbs were becoming numb and your head was spinning.

the familiar sound of your name, however, kept you grounded, making you look at the white-haired man who was laying down on the turf.

sweat and blood littered his scarred skin, a look you had gotten to know through the years you had spent with him. but this time was like no other.

you immediately sat by his side and forced yourself to act like you had everything under control, while trying to disregard the spear that had pierced his body: your hands slightly pressed near the major wound on his chest, clinging to the last hope of keeping more blood from coming out.

“my time… has come, then?” he murmured, his lips were moving slowly, too slowly, though his voice was calm as the usual; you would have said he wasn’t feeling much pain, if you didn’t know him that well.

a grin was plastered on his face and it only made you sadder to see him keep his mask even on that unpleasant occasion.

“don’t you dare say that, jing yuan. there’s still time, we can make someone look for a doctor, we… you can resist for a few minutes until then!”, you sounded — you were — desperate. “everything is going to work out in the end, isn’t it?”.

you were trying your best to pay no attention to your thoughts: there was no doubt that his injury was fatal, he already had lost too much blood to return back to his usual life and be saved. you would have switched places in a heartbeat if you were given the opportunity to do so, you would have given anything to keep him alive; jing yuan had understood it since the first day your love for him had been known.

his eyes were fixated on your face, as if they were trying to soothe your distressed mind. with the last remaining ounce of strength, he rested one of his hands on yours and deepened his smile.

he called out your name again. “do you know how much i care about you?”.

if the situation were different, you would have punched him; tears began to fall down on your cheeks; you would have liked to scream and say he wouldn’t have died in that way, but you managed to make your lips curve into a faux grin; if you had to smile, you would have done it for him.

“yes, love. i do know it all too well”, you whispered, your gaze was focused only on his face and the flutter of his eyelashes.

jing yuan slowly nodded and mumbled “good”: his heart could have ultimately rested now that he had your confirmation.

he looked at the gray sky, silently saying his goodbyes to the world around him. “if there’s anything beyond this life… i hope i’ll get the chance to… to meet my friends… and lost companions there…”. you felt his fingers caress yours in a reassuring manner, a habit of his the general of the luofu couldn’t abandon even in death. “perhaps we are going… to talk again”.

you inclined your head, there was nothing else you could do.

his deep voice, the white cascade of his long hair, those golden eyes that held many memories, the strategies he followed while playing chess, his comforting laugh, every characteristic of his — you would have never forgotten any of them.

“i feel… so light…” he muttered as he closed his eyes, inhaling air for the last time.

an uncontrollable sob broke out from your throat as you bended over and hugged his cold body close to your chest, your forehead was against his.

pain had been a part of jing yuan’s life since he was a child and it ushered him also to his demise, as a loyal intimate who had never left his side.

you held back your tears when a question made its way into your head: would he have found solace now that everything was over? you shivered and hoped he could finally rest, but your heart wouldn’t have been the same ever again.

the peace you had found within his presence had mercilessly been broken and nothing could have ever repaired it.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

[ tag list — @bladesmuse ]

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

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Carol Danvers x reader - you never came

Part two:

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you looked at the burned skin on your arm and hissed a little bit, grabbing the basket from the porch.

“You’re hurt, at least let me help.” Carol said.

“I said get lost.”

You walked inside, slamming the door behind you, and Carol sighed.

She’d come all this way, and she wasn’t stupid, if she left now you would leave and she probably never be able to find you again.

That was your skill, if you didn’t want to be found then you wouldn’t.

She was amazed that shield had been able to find you, and part of her wondered why you hadn’t left the moment they did.

She had a lot of questions, and she wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to do in a situation like this.

Carol reached out, hand hesitating over the handle of your door.

She thought about it for a moment before she tried it, finding it unlocked and letting herself in.

Slowly closing the door, she looked around the bare home.

There wasn’t many decorations, if any. A coat hook, a book case, that’s all there was in the hallway.

The living room wasn’t much better, a few places to sit and a fireplace, more bookshelves scattered around the place which seemed to be the common bit of decoration to fill the room.

You barged into the room, hands on fire again.

“Get out!”

“No! There’s something wrong and I want to help!” Carol snapped back.

You took a swing for her and she barley dodged it, but she did feel the intense heat of the flames graze her skin.

You tried again, and she dodged it once more, trying to grab your hand, but she couldn’t catch it.

“Stop!” She yelled.

You pulled back, shaking your hand a little bit, smoke rising from your skin.

You cursed quietly, walking to the kitchen grabbing some burn treatment.

Cautiously Carol followed you, watching what you were doing.

“Why does that keep happening?” She asked.

You said nothing, and you carried on treating the injury.

“You didn’t have this power?”

“That was years ago, what do you know?” You scoffed.

“I know that you were a soft and gentle person, and I know you never had any superhuman abilities.”

Carol gestured to your upper arm which was covered heavily in burn scars.

“And you weren’t covered in scars like that. Why are your powers doing this to you?”

You chucked everything in the side, and you walked to your cupboard, pouring yourself a drink before sitting down in the kitchen table.

You couldn’t fight her and you knew that, and right now you couldn’t keep burning yourself trying to scare her away, it just wasn’t worth it.

So, instead you sat there watching her as you took a sip from the alcohol in your glass.

“You also didn’t like whiskey.”

“People change.”

Carol took the other chair from the table, and slowly sat down, carefully looking at you.

She examined you, looking at the scars she could see.

“Did you know that if I drink enough alcohol I can light myself up like an oil barrel sparked by a match.”

“Given how your body is reacting to such little power, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You shrugged a little, taking a sip from the glass.

Carol sighed.

“I can hardly recognise you…”

“Avoiding a person would do that. People change Danvers, accept that.”

“No, I won’t. Because I refuse to believe this is all just in spite of me going missing.”

You slammed your hand on the table, breaking it.

“Missing?! I thought you were dead! I grieved for you! I wasn’t even allowed to keep anything of yours they took it all!”

“I’m sorry… I.. I had no memory..”

You scoffed, gripping the glass tightly.

“But you got them back right? It’s why I’ve heard word of you all over the place, returning every now and then.”

“How..?”

You set the glass down.

“I have contacts Danvers, I may be out of touch with the world but I know people who things and tell me them.”

“What the hell does that even mean (Y/N)?”

You kicked your feet up on the table.

“It means Danvers, don’t fuck with me and get lost.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere so suck it up.”

She copied you, kicking her feet on the table and she took your glass, taking a sip from it.

Grimacing a little, she set the glass down and looked at you.

“That taste horrid.”

“Not all of us have money like you. Must pay to be a superhero.”

She leant her head back against the wall.

“Seriously? Let’s just talk about this, please?”

You got up, walking over to your sink, you grabbed your medication and looked at her, gesturing to her.

“Fine, talk then leave.”

“What’s that for?”

You tossed the box over to her.

“Your friend from shield brings it to me.”

Carol looked at the box.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen this before. It’s to help contain the affects of inhuman abilities that can injure the user.”

Carol set it down.

“What happened to you?”

You ignored the question, sitting down.

“I just want to help you, I want to be here for you and I can’t do that if you won’t let me…”

“I don’t need your help or your pity.”

“I know you love me, we were supposed to get married.”

She reached into her pocket, pulling out an engagement ring from her pocket, showing it to you.

“Nick gave it to me, he found it a few years ago and knew it was yours. He said you gave it to him and told him to return it.”

You said nothing and she sighed softly.

“I never stopped loving you…”

“Well, maybe you should have.”

You walked away, back outside into your garden, and you sat outside.

Carol followed you, sitting next to you, setting the ring on your thigh.

You looked at it, the way the sunlight gleamed of it a little bit.

“No matter what happens I want to be with you. I want to make up for lost time, I want to show you I’m sorry.”

Carol got up, crouching in front of you she took your heads, resting her forehead in your knuckles.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Her voice cracked a little bit.

And despite how angry you were her, how much you hated her and wanted to scream and shout at her right now, it broke your heart.

You never could stand the sight of seeing her cry.

Carol took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…”

Carol moved her head away, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I just.. I don’t understand what could have happened…”

“You were gone a long time.” You said.

Carol looked up at you, tears in her eyes.

“Things happen, that’s all there is to it.”

She shook her head, taking one of her hands from yours, wiping her tears.

“Not like this… tell me.. or I’ll ask Nick for what he knows…”

“I’ll be long gone by the time you come back.”

“Then tell me, please.”

“There’s no point Carol don’t you get it? There’s no point. In a few months, maybe years if I’m lucky but eventually my body will give in to the pressure of my powers.”

“Then why do you keep using them?! We can help you, figure a way to stabilise it.”

You scoffed a bit.

“I may as well use them if they’re going to kill me.”

“No…”

Carol stood up, gently cradling her face and she leant forward pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, you don’t want help. Just let me stay here..”

“Fine.”

You got up, and she stepped away.

“I’m going to sleep, do whatever just stay away.”

With that you left, and she waited for her chance.

The moment you were fast asleep she was going through your home, trying to find anything she could in order to figure out how to help you.

She couldn’t find much, some paperwork for some cars, books, nothing of any importance at all.

She went through some more draws, and she found a box.

Slowly pulling it out, so took the lid off and softly smiled.

It was photos of you two from years ago, all keep sakes from every date you two had ever gone on.

It was a memory box.

And it was filled with things after as well.

That’s when she saw it.

There was a 6 year gap in the dates of everything, so, what were you doing for those 6 years? Where did you go? And was it related to why you were the way you were now?

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel x you #captain marvel imagine #Carol Danvers #Carol Danvers x reader #Carol Danvers x you #Carol Danvers imagine

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scarabsinthestardust · 17 days ago

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Tender // Ch. 2

MASTERLIST

word count: 3400+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: descriptions of child abuse/neglect; mentions of religious violence; language; anxiety; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; inability to talk about feelings; I guess a tiny bit of smut/foreplay but nothing too heated; small discussion about pregnancy; nightmares; sleep paralysis/sleep paralysis demon

The steady rainfall had turned all the dirt and clay into thick mud, making it difficult to walk through the sludge. The sky was dark, almost black clouds blocking out what remained of the evening sun. Flashes of heat lightning illuminated the tops of the trees and cast deep shadows across the forest floor. A little redheaded boy, no more than six, tried his best to protect himself from the elements but to no avail. His skin was caked in mud and his clothes were soaked, sending a chill through his tiny body.

The boy’s wrists were bound tightly and strung up to a tree branch, too high for him to reach. His wrists burned where the rope rubbed his flesh raw, and his shoulders ached from the strain of the unnatural stretch as his arms were forced above his head. He screamed for help, but the sound was drowned out by the heavy rain and occasional thunder. It didn’t matter how much he cried, no one would hear him. No one was coming. His parents certainly weren’t, at least not yet. His father would come back and untie him in the morning, when the rain stopped and when he felt the boy had received an appropriate amount of punishment.

The boy’s mother called it the ‘wrath of God,’ but he didn’t understand what that meant, or what he had done wrong to earn his father’s anger.

“Uh, babe? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Josh snaps his fingers in front of my face, bringing my attention back to him. I must have zoned out. We’re seated on the patio of a new brunch restaurant across town that he wanted to check out. It’s a nice place, the food is delicious, but there’s so many fucking people walking past us, and I can’t focus. Why do I feel like they’re all staring?

“I’m sorry. I got distracted. What were you saying?”

He’s clearly annoyed at me, and it sparks a feeling in me I don’t particularly enjoy. “Cabin trip, next month. Are you in? Can you get off work for it?”

“I… yeah, I can. But I thought the cabin trips were just for the band, so you guys can write music?”

“Nah, it’s not that kind of trip. We just thought it might be nice, after the stress of… everything, to decompress. Ya know, get away from the city for a bit. I don’t know how much hiking we’ll do, with Sam still on crutches. He’s really excited about the trip, though. And I think it’ll be good for him. Kya’s coming, too.”

“I’m shocked your brother even agreed to let her go. He’s been up her ass about this baby. He doesn’t hardly let her do anything on her own.”

“If he had stayed up her ass, he wouldn’t have gotten her pregnant.” I want to roll my eyes at the stupid, vulgar joke, but I can’t help but laugh at the shit-eating grin on my boyfriend’s face. His expression softens as he continues. “I know Jake’s been paranoid and kind of annoying about the whole thing. He’s just scared. First kid jitters, I suppose. But I get it. And let’s be real, does anyone ever let Kya do anything?”

I shrug. He has a point. “Touche.”

“So? Will you come with us?” The idea of spending any amount of time in the middle of the woods makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave the safety of the city and its noise pollution and smog, only to breathe in the fresh mountain air that’s likely to stick to my throat and suffocate me. I don’t want to be left alone in the quiet with my thoughts and the memories I try so hard to forget. But then I look at Josh. There he goes again with those big, beautiful, brown eyes and pouty lips, and I’m incapable of telling him no.

This was a terrible idea. On our first night at the cabin, it rains. It isn’t a bad storm, but it’s enough to spike my anxiety. And now I have to hide it from not only Josh, but his brothers and Daniel, too. Kya picks up on my discomfort and I feel her hand on my arm, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into my skin. She’s offering a distraction without speaking, without calling me out in front of everyone, and I’m grateful she’s here.

I don’t want to sit on the couch – it’s too close to the window. What I would prefer to do is hide, but hiding requires self-isolation, and people notice self-isolation. So instead, I opt for a barstool on the outside of the kitchen island. Josh smiles sweetly at me before getting back to his current task.

He and Jake are in the kitchen, cooking dinner. They won’t tell us what it is, but it smells amazing. I watch him flit around, ever so gracefully, laughing with his twin, so lighthearted, so happy. He acts as though he doesn’t have a care in the world, there is nothing weighing him down. He’s surrounded by his family, and I have that nagging feeling that I don’t belong here.

We eat dinner and gather in the living room. I notice that no one brought any alcohol on the trip, solely for my sake, I’m sure. They rope me into playing some board games, and when everyone gets tired of that, they move onto playing music. I’m trying to relax, but it’s so difficult to convince myself that everything is going to be okay. Kya yawns and Jake suggests she go to bed; she agrees but drags him along with her. Sam is on the couch, his broken leg propped up, his back pressed into Daniel, who looks like he is about to fall asleep himself.

Josh seems to read my mind, announcing that we’ll be calling it a night as well. He disappears into the bathroom for his nightly rituals. I’ve never met a man with such a strict skincare routine.

The rain has stopped, so I walk over to the bedroom window and peek out between the curtains. I don’t know what I expected to find. It’s dark, the only light coming from the window I’m looking out of. I can’t even see the moon through the rain clouds. The familiar nausea begins to return. The shadows in the endless darkness seem to move, morphing into shapes and silhouettes that have haunted me since childhood. If I listen closely, I can hear the crickets chirping, maybe even an owl hooting in the distance, and it’s still too quiet. It’s not enough noise to silence my own thoughts. My mind is running too fast to keep up, and I feel my heart rate rise, my breath becoming uneven. What am I doing here? I’m gripping the edge of the windowsill to hold onto something solid, and I try to grasp onto the part of my brain that says I am fine, so that I can let go and enjoy myself here, but I’m failing. This isn’t West Virginia, I tell myself. They aren’t here. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m safe. I’m –

Everything comes to a halt, my worries temporarily silenced when I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind me. The sweet smell of vanilla fills my nostrils, and he presses himself against my back. I lace my fingers with his and sigh, complacent for a moment.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” I turn to face him and wrap my arms around him before kissing the top of his head.

“You don’t have to lie to me, ya know.” I swear my heart stops when his words reach my ears. Is this it? Has he figured me out, seen right through me to the pieces of myself I endeavor to hold together like broken glass? Is this where I lose him? I thought I would have more time. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He reads my silence for confusion, which isn’t entirely false, but it’s something more. It’s fear. He pulls away just enough to look me in the eyes, his head tilted upwards to make up for the height difference, but his hands don’t leave my waist. “You don’t like the rain. I can tell. You get all nervous and jittery. But you don’t have to deal with it alone, baby. Why…” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I won’t ask. You know me, I’m an inquisitive person. But I know you don’t like to talk about certain things, and you don’t have to explain any of it to me. I just wish you’d talk to me. Tell me that being in a cabin in the woods during the rainy season wigs you out, and then my dumbass will stop dragging you around to do things you don’t want to do. Tell me what you need. Let me be here for you.”

Fuck, I love him so much. There’s a split second, a tiny sliver of time in the shards of this universe, where I consider telling him everything. For a fraction of a moment, I want to let him in and open his eyes to all the horrible things that happen in my own head when he’s fast asleep. I want him to understand what molded me into what I am today, this damaged, shell of a coward. But the thought disappears as quickly as it came, and I know, like I’ve always known, that I can’t ever tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry. It’s just a little anxiety, but I’m okay.”

I can tell he isn’t satisfied with my answer, but he doesn’t push me for more. I pull him to me and press my lips to his. He’s so soft, and he tastes like mint and jasmine, the remnants of some fancy, overpriced, Italian toothpaste he likes. He smiles and hums when I pull away, his eyes still half-closed in a blissful haze. “And you didn’t ‘drag’ me out here,” I assure him. “I wanted to come, to be here with you.”

That seems to satiate him for the time being. “Well, I’m glad you came.” It’s comforting to know I haven’t ruined it yet. I meant it when I said I wanted to come on this trip with him, even if it’s primarily for the sake of being in his company. The rest is just a side effect, and he’s worth suffering for.

He sits on the bed and shoots me a mischievous look. “Ya know, I’m not even tired.”

His message is clear, and I close the distance between us. “Well,” I start, as I gently push him to lie down on the bed. “I suppose I’ll just have to tire you out a little.” I slowly follow until I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips. He’s immediately responsive, bucking his hips for any kind of friction as he grabs my shirt and pulls me down to latch our lips together again. He doesn’t fight me as I use one hand to lift his, holding his wrists in place above his head. I begin kissing and nipping at his neck (always carefully – I’m not allowed to leave marks), and he lets a moan escape his lips.

“Your brothers are going to hear you,” I mutter.

“I’ll be quiet.”

I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes me. “Babe, you’ve never been quiet a day in your life.”

He scoffs. “I can be quiet.”

“I don’t believe you.” I haven’t stopped my assault on his neck and my free hand is under his shirt, rubbing and kneading at his flesh. He’s writhing underneath me, begging for more. If I’m being honest, I don’t actually give a flying fuck if anyone hears us. Let them. It’s just a small reminder that he’s mine.

He struggles to get his next words out; I’m still amazed at how easy it is to turn him into a whimpering mess. “Fine,” he gasps. “If I can’t – ah – stay quiet, you’ll just have to find a way to – to keep my mouth occupied.”

My own movements stutter and I groan, instinctively grinding my hips into his. This man is going to be the death of me.

Dried leaves crunch under our feet as we traverse one of the nearby trails that will supposedly lead us to the lake. I’m feeling oddly peaceful today. Instead of haunting shadows and threatening whispers, I only hear birds and the light breeze rustling the trees. We’re moving at a fairly slow pace so Sam can keep up. Josh’s arm is looped with mine as we walk. He’s not speaking right now, a rare occurrence; he’s just soaking in the atmosphere and breathing in the fresh air. He’s practically glowing in the morning sun, and I’m content to simply observe him. He’s almost ethereal.

At some point, Jake says something to taunt Josh, in their typical, playful, sibling fashion, and Josh runs ahead to act out his ‘revenge’ on his twin. While they’re roughhousing, Kya retreats from the line of fire and falls into step next to me.

“How’re you holding up?”

“I’m… okay right now. What about you? The baby kicking your ass yet?”

As if on cue, Jake notices she’s fallen behind and starts to walk back to check on her. “Jacob,” she says sternly, like a warning to back off.

He puts his hands up defensively. “Sorry. Sorry. Minding by business.” He keeps his distance, but his eyes linger on his girlfriend, clearly concerned for her welfare.

Kya rolls her eyes in annoyance but offers Jake a reassuring smile. “He means well. I’ve just gotta train him not to be so damn worried all the time. And to answer your question, no, the little one’s been pretty well behaved. I don’t even get nauseous much these days.”

“When do you find out the gender?”

“Right after we get back home, actually. We were putting it off ‘cause we debated letting it be a surprise, but I like to be prepared.”

“Josh is one hundred percent convinced it’s definitely a girl.”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s got some special ‘baby ESP’ or some shit.” She says it loud enough for Josh to hear, and he turns to confront her, to which she responds by sticking her tongue out at him.

“You two are children,” I laugh. I envy Kya for how easy it seemed to be for her to integrate into this family. It appears to be effortless, at least to an outsider. I find myself hoping that I could follow her lead, and maybe Josh will keep me around long enough for me to start feeling like I’m meant to be here, too.

We make it to the lake, its crystal-clear water sparkling in the sun. Kya and Jake waste no time stripping down to their swimwear and submerging themselves. I hear Sam sigh sadly; he’s not supposed to get his cast wet, so he’s forced to sit this one out, but he swears he’s content to sit on the edge of the water and observe. Danny stays with him, ignoring Sam’s protests that he go swimming without him. Josh is pulling me excitedly towards the water’s edge, but I stop him.

“What’s wrong? You’re not coming?” He looks disappointed and it makes my chest hurt. He deserves honesty from me, I know that, even if it only comes in tiny, miniscule pieces.

“I, uh… I can’t swim.” I speak quietly and lower my head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. I don’t hate the water, per se. It’s often quite relaxing to wade where I can stand in it, but once it gets deep enough for my head to go under, the panic sets in.

“I didn’t know that. Do you want me to-“

I cut him off before he can finish the question. “No. Go swimming. I want you to enjoy yourself. I’ll be right here.”

I can tell he wants to argue – he always does – but he wrangles in that stubborn, feisty voice that I’m sure is clawing its way to the surface and nods, smiling softly. So, I situate myself with Sam and Danny, and I’m shockingly comfortable. Peace doesn’t come to me often, and I know it won’t last long, but I’ll savor it while it’s here. Josh seems at home, like he is anywhere he can be with his brothers. All the strain and pressure they had dealt with recently just melts away. Josh’s laughter rings out in the air around us, dancing through the trees. It’s a sound I could listen to forever, if he’d allow me to.

I can’t breathe. There’s a weight on my chest, crushing me. My limbs are heavy and I’m unable to move, no matter how hard I try. The only thing I can hear are distorted whispers; they repeat the same thing over and over again – You can’t hide. When I open my eyes, my vision is blurry, like I’m underwater. I’m drowning. The shadow that hovers above me is faceless, just a silhouette, like it always is. It doesn’t have a mouth, but I can feel its hot breath on my face, and it smells like sulfur. It makes these awful clicking noises that sort of remind me of some kind of nocturnal animal. I can never remember which one.

I’m afraid, of course I am. I’m always afraid. But this has become such a frequent occurrence that I’ve accepted the fear and accepted that I can do nothing but be suffocated by it. Occasionally, when I’m feeling adventurous (or perhaps it’s more likely I don’t think I’ve got anything to lose), I stare back at the entity in an attempt to learn what I can. But mostly I close my eyes and pray – no, not pray, never pray – to be free of the presence that threatens my place in this world.

I wonder what would happen if it ever succeeded. Would I simply be gone from this plane, no trace left of my pathetic existence? Or would it take over, using me for its own benefit, getting off on whatever horrible things it will make me do?

It visits me often, but this time something is different. I’m not alone. Another voice reaches my ears, one I don’t recognize immediately. I can’t understand what it’s saying but it’s enough to pull me back. The entity is brushed away as quickly as it appears, and I can finally draw in a deep breath. I can finally move; I sit up so quickly it makes me dizzy. I’m freezing and I’m not one hundred percent sure where I am. But I hear the voice again and everything starts to fall into place.

It isn’t the words themselves, because they make no sense. I can only make out bits and pieces, something about glitter in the carpet? But I understand what’s happening now. Josh is talking in his sleep, and it was enough to wake me from mine. He’s mumbling something about peanuts now. What could he possibly be dreaming about?

My eyes are starting to adjust to the deep darkness. We’re still at the cabin. In the woods. The realization makes my heart pound harder. My instincts are telling me to run, to get as far from this place as I can, but I know that isn’t the most logical way to handle this. It’s just my fight-or-flight kicking in, that’s all. Where would I even run to? Instead, I hug my knees to my chest and shut my eyes again; I need to calm down. I don’t want to wake him up.

I’m unsure how much time passes before my pulse settles to a normal rate, but it’s still dark when I open my eyes. Josh is still asleep. He’s on his side with his back to me, his small snores permeating the silence. I take another deep breath and lie down. I can’t resist the urge to wrap my arm around his waist and pull myself against his back. I place a gentle kiss on his bare, exposed shoulder. He makes a satisfied noise and pushes back into me, as if he could get closer, but he doesn’t wake up from his slumber.

I don’t sleep again tonight. I rarely ever do after a visit from the… demon? Spirit? Whatever it is. I know, realistically, that Josh is not in any danger. It won’t come for him; it won’t touch him. He’s not the one it wants. But I still feel as though I need to protect him from it. From me? I hold onto him for the rest of the night, making silent promises that he will be safe.

///

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @who-will-bring-the-rain

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka #danny gvf #sam gvf #danny wagner #sam kiszka

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book-pirate · 1 year ago

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Astarion x Tav, because the Baldur's Gate brain rot is real. Sorry to my beloved mutuals who have no idea what I'm on about!!! I don't know either!!!!!!

tripping over my own heart AO3

“I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

Tav is maybe not the best judge of when people are trying to flirt with her. It’s funny, really, because she can sniff out bullshit from a mile away, and her gut hasn’t been wrong once on their absolutely insane journey. There are a million excuses she could use, to try and explain why in this one facet of social interaction she fails, but the simple truth is it just doesn’t occur to her that someone might be in to her.

Especially Halsin.

Without thinking, she blurts out, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested,” realizes how that sounds, and then continues with a cringe, “but I’m already in a relationship.”

Which should not be news to you! she stops herself from saying.

Part of her expects it to end the conversation, but he keeps talking, about bonds and souls and gardens and nature. She has to actively fight herself to remain calm, have her face stay open and friendly instead of running to Shadowheart and asking how she might voluntarily give up the memory of this interaction ever happening.

There’s a snicker in her head that sounds suspiciously like her friend’s as she finally extracts herself from the conversation with a polite, “I’m sorry, Halsin.”

He seems to understand and doesn’t hold it against her, maintaining his smile, even if it’s a touch bittersweet as she walks away. Her gait is steady and casual as she walks to the edge of the camp, avoiding eye contact as she focuses on her footing on the path towards the small river they’d managed to find. After all, she had been on the way to wash up when Halsin had asked to chat. Something she is very much Not Thinking About It.

Until she dips her toes in the river, peeling off her clothing with care. She can’t wait to do laundry in the city, and have a proper bath in something that isn’t a natural body of water. As a druid, she loves being outdoors, but a hot bath is incomparable. Even Halsin -

The thought of him stops her cold, and suddenly she finds herself giggling, grabbing at her soap as she wades further into the river. That makes what, five of her eight traveling companions that have blatantly come on to her? The girls back home would never believe it. Homely little Tav, suddenly finds herself with a string of suitors. All it took was a tadpole eating away at her brain.

The general lack of attention she’d received her entire life are probably why it always takes her by surprise when someone admits to wanting her. She’s no blushing virgin, but rarely has she ever been so desired. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t surprised when Astarion admitted his plan, felt something like sick acceptance in her stomach. No, the surprise came after, when he told her he genuinely cared for her.

She’d been prepared to take her own feelings to the grave, accepting that she’d share Astarion’s bedroll, or grassy clearing, until he decided he was done. The man flirted with everyone, and she’d assumed it’d been lack of choice that lead him to her. Instead, they’d fallen into something deeper, scaring both of them.

It’s not easy, by any means, but by pushing sex off the table and getting more comfortable with platonic touches, they’re growing into something she feels like might be big. Even rest-of-her-life big. Which is another shock, in and of itself.

“And what has you so lost in thought, my dear?”

She stifles a shriek as she whirls around, inadvertently splashing an amused-looking Astarion as he wades closer. “You startled me!”

He grins as he pries the bar of soap from her pruney fingers. “Apologies, my love, but I did say hello. It’s hardly my fault you were miles away and didn’t hear me.”

“I don’t believe I was done with that.”

“No?” he asks, all faux innocence as he scrubs at his torso. “You’ve been in the water for nearly a quarter of an hour now, so I merely assumed you were just -”

“Relaxing?” She hums as she takes the soap from him and starts to scrub at his back, mindful of the scars. Part of her feels like she should be attempting to cover her nudity, but another, much larger part, reveled in the intimacy born of just simply being with him. “I meant for just a quick wash, since we’re going to be in the city proper tomorrow. I don’t want to show up looking like we’ve just spent the last tenday hiking.”

“I cannot agree more, darling. Mustn’t have the locals mistaking us for goblins, covered in muck and grime and speaking in mono-syllables.”

She laughs at the image he paints. “As if anyone could mistake you for such a creature.”

Preening, he says, “Yes, well, unfortunately for our little group not everyone can be as blessed as I. In fact, our first order of business should be getting Gale to a barber, as soon as possible.”

The chatter about being in the city again occupies them while they finish cleaning up, and Tav doesn’t think about anything other than the excitement of the new day until Astarion gives the braid he just finished helping her put her hair into a little tug. “You never answered my question, you know.”

She tips her head back to lean on his chest, blinking up into his face. “What question?”

A perfectly manicured eyebrow arches up. “Why you were so lost in thought, my dear.”

“Oh. Oh,” she says, scooting forward just enough to turn around to look at him properly, knelt in the grass with a curious look on his face. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with Halsin on my way here -”

To her surprise, he erupts in laughter, interrupting her. “I was wondering when we were going to talk about this.”

Her eyes go wide as she feels her face heat. “How could you tell?”

“I guessed. The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts’.” She can’t help but laugh at his Halsin impression as he continues, “I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

The mental image has her covering her face with a groan. “Astarion!”

“It’s perfectly natural, after all, darling, no need to be shy.” His long, slender fingers gently pry her hands away so he can meet her gaze. “So, what did you say?”

The question has her freezing, mind stopping and restarting. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What did you say?” he asks again, somewhat impatiently. “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“What?” she splutters, “I said no, of course! I’m with you, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Strangely enough, I had,” he says, drily. “I would be more than happy to let you have as much Halsin as you want, you know. Don’t stop yourself on my account.”

Something in the air has changed, she thinks, his fingers still wrapped around her wrists as her hands hang between them. His face is open, and she doesn’t think he’s lying, but -

“If I’m understanding you correctly,” she tells him, slowly, “you don’t mind if Halsin and I have a tumble.”

She thinks annoyance flashes across his face before he can smooth it out again, but his voice is still even as he answers, “Far be it from me to deny you such pleasures. I would just, that is…”

The silence stretches long enough that she feels comfortable breaking it. Shifting so she’s closer to him, she prods him, “Yes?”

“It’s not because, you know, we haven’t, in a while?”

And there it is, the missing piece she was searching for. He’s worried.

She sighs, and gently tugs her hands out of his grip. His expression only shifts to concern for a moment before she slides into his lap, pushing him more securely onto his bottom so she can wrap her legs around his waist without fear of knocking him off-balance. “Astarion,” she murmurs, into his collarbone, “my silly goose.”

He’s somewhat stiff in her hold, but he hesitatingly brings his arms around her. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to be insulted, my love. Perhaps you can explain.”

Pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw, she leans back far enough to meet his eyes, those wonderfully dark eyes that she wants to sink and drown in. “It’s a term of endearment, you silly man. I think there’s been some confusion here.”

Some of the worry leaves his face, but not all. “Pray tell, then, what the confusion is, for I admit to being lost.”

“I don’t want Halsin. I was flattered by his offer, in all honesty, but I don’t want him. I want you.”

His brow wrinkles. “You would still have me.”

“I’m a selfish creature, at heart, you know. For all of the grief and whinging you gave me about wanting to help people, there are certain things I cannot share. You are one of them.”

“But Halsin wasn’t asking about me he was asking -”

It's crude, but she doesn't know how else to get through to him, so she risks saying, “And you’re telling me that you would be completely fine with his hands on my skin? His mouth on me? His fingers and cock inside of me?”

A shudder passes through him that has her clutching him tightly. Caught out in his half-lie, he buries his face in her hair, finally squeezing her back. They’re quiet for a moment, and she strokes his curls the way she knows he likes, waiting for him, always waiting for him to be ready. She would wait forever if it meant waiting like this, wrapped up in him.

“No,” he finally says, voice rough, “no, I couldn’t stand it. But I don’t want you to regret being with me when I can’t, that is, I’m not capable of giving you all you need. If someone else is willing -”

“You are all I need, my love.” She smiles up at him, willing him to see the truth in her eyes. “It’s true, I miss being close to you, skin-to-skin with nothing separating us. But that ache is nothing compared to the joy and happiness I gain holding you through the night, holding your hand when we think nobody is watching, or even if they are. The kisses you greet me with and send me off with, our conversations, the way I can just be around you. That’s what I need. What I don’t need is someone else’s arms to help me find pleasure I’m perfectly capable of finding on my own.”

“You,” his voice is emotional, and he has to clear his throat before continuing, “you really mean that, don’t you?”

“When we agreed that this would be real, whatever it is between us, we agreed we would be honest, truly honest. I know it’s difficult at times, but it’s necessary, for this to work. I need you to be honest with me about how you feel, so we can talk about it. I might just surprise you.”

“Oh, that I know for certain,” he murmurs, tipping her onto her back so he can press soft kisses to her face. “You are so full of them.”

She hums moving her face gently so he doesn’t miss a single inch, a wide smile stretching her lips. “So, no Halsin.”

“No Halsin,” he agrees, before leaning down and capturing her lips for a slow and dirty kiss. The way his tongue slips past hers, flicks at it, draws a moan out of her throat. The sound must satisfy him, because he leans back with a wicked grin. “Now, darling, I just have one more bone to pick with you.”

She snorts. “And what might that be?”

“You naughty little thing, pleasuring yourself without me. I want to hear all about it.”

It’s not really a joke, but it makes her laugh anyway, hands covering her face once more. “Astarion!”

“But maybe not tonight, hmm?” he continues, gently prying her hands away so she can see the hungry smile on his face. “After all, we are very close to having privacy again, with four walls, a roof…”

“A bed,” she finishes for him, but she has a worried frown on her face. “Whatever you want, my love. If you want to hear about my solitary adventures, I will be more than happy to share. As long as you’re comfortable.”

The smile sharpens. “Oh, my dear, I think a step like this is exactly what I want.”

Later, when they’re tucked into what’s become their bedroll, with her curled up on his chest after a few stolen kisses, all she can do is hope the Emperor has the good sense to leave her alone this night. She has a feeling her dreams will be full of Astarion, and she doesn’t want to be interrupted.

Or share.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #sofiewritesthings #fanfiction #fanfic

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mimilind · 11 months ago

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A Magical Classmate - Part 7

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 3000

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

You are gradually coming to terms with the shocking information when you realize that Drake has the power to remove your memories of what he told you. You beg him not to.

7. Draco the Death Eater

Drake didn’t move away as you tried to soothe him, but he didn’t look any happier either. Touching him had a calming effect on yourself, however; it made him feel real and solid, a person of flesh and blood who just happened to be able to do supernatural things.

He was still fidgeting with his wand and despite your agitated state you became curious.

“Can I try?” You poked it lightly with your fingertip, expecting a buzz or sparks, but you didn’t feel anything.

“Go ahead.”

It was made of smooth wood, and lighter than you had expected. Nothing happened when you waved it. “What were those words you said?”

“The words won’t do anything without the correct gestures – and you’d need magical ability.” He enveloped your hand with his own, guiding you through the movement. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Now you felt it. Your skin prickled lightly as power flared from within the wand, passing through your fingers and joining a force from Drake’s hand. The lilac rose, resuming its impossible position.

You shivered, but this time it wasn’t from fear. The magic affected you, filling you with a strange excitement. Goosebumps appeared on your arms.

He helped you cast a new spell. “Accio dragon figure.” More power flowed through your joint hands and the toy escaped his pocket. With a third spell he made it do little pirouettes around the flower.

You could not hold back a laugh. “That is so cute.”

He did more tricks. The dragon grew and flapped its wings, and even breathed fire on the lawn. When he returned it to its normal size the burned patch of grass remained.

You looked at him as he worked. He did it so naturally and gracefully, yet in every motion he was still him. He had the same focused expression as when working through a chemistry lab or writing a report.

This was still Drake, your friend – or, much more than a friend, actually – and you couldn’t stand the thought of having to let him go. You didn’t see the reason for it, either.

“I don’t care that we are from different worlds.” You moved closer so you could lean against him. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He had been smiling as he cast spells, now the clouds returned to his features. “You should; I told you I’m not a good person.”

“Stop saying that! Everything I know about you proves you wrong. You’re the nicest guy I know and I like you.”

“That’s because you only saw one side of me. Like I said, my father was a criminal… and so was I.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t believe that.”

He tensed and shrugged you off, creating a distance again. “Then let me describe it to you. Who I am. What I am.” His eyes had become angry and his mouth a hard, thin line. “There was a great war in my world, started by a wizard called Tom Riddle, though he preferred a pseudonym which I will not utter. His followers were called Death Eaters. Riddle’s basic idea was that wizards ought to rule the world and enslave all muggles – non magical people like you. Thing is, he was rather charismatic and his ideas sounded… I don’t know, I kind of fell for them. My parents had always taught me that pureblood wizards like us were above others, and I had no reason to question that. I had rarely met a muggle, but at school there were a few muggle-born wizards and witches and I looked down on them. I found them inferior. So, when I discovered my parents were Death Eaters it made me proud. But then one day my father failed a mission and ended up in prison. A horrible prison; hardly anyone survives in there.” He swallowed thickly, and when he continued his voice was toneless. “Riddle then tasked me to kill his greatest enemy – the Headmaster of my school. If I succeeded he would free my father. So I took the dark mark and joined the Death Eaters.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing you a faded tattoo on his inner forearm, a long snake slithering out of a skull.

It gave you a strange feeling of déjà vu. As if you had seen it before, though you knew you hadn’t.

“I was flattered in a way, first; I felt singled out and important.” He made a disgusted grimace. “That was before I knew what Riddle and his followers were really like. How cruel he was – and how completely mental and unhinged.”

You traced the contours of the snake with your finger. Unlike a real tattoo, the skin was puckered along the edge of the mark.

He shivered at your touch but didn’t pull away.

“I refuse to believe you could kill anyone,” you said stubbornly.

He laughed mirthlessly. “As it were, I couldn’t, actually. I failed…”

“I knew it!”

“My failure is not an excuse; I still did horrible things. I joined Riddle knowing full well it meant I would commit murder, and though I didn't cast the killing curse, I did try to kill my headmaster indirectly with poison and a cursed necklace, but they got in the wrong hands. Two innocent students nearly died–” His voice broke and you could feel he was trembling. “And later, I was ordered to… hurt people. Torture them. I didn’t want to but I was afraid and weak so I obeyed. I probably would have been a Death Eater to this day if Riddle hadn’t been killed and we lost the war. I’m a bad person and you should stay the hell away from me.” He wiped his eyes angrily.

Your mind was whirring with thoughts. Murder and torture… Trying to imagine Drake hurting someone was even more surreal than witnessing him casting spells.

But he had said he was ordered to; that he did it to save his father. And because he was afraid. That, you could believe. People would do the most awful things to survive, you knew that.

You hated to see him look so miserable and began to stroke his arm again, sliding your finger over the faded mark. It struck you it must have been branded into his skin. As if he were cattle.

You didn’t want to think about how much that must have hurt.

“How long ago did you get this?”

“A few years back.”

“Then you can’t have been old at all? Unless wizards are like vampires or elves and you’re super old but in a young man’s body…?” By now, anything seemed possible.

He smiled briefly. “No, I was sixteen.”

“You were just a boy! And had to do all those things?”

“I was almost an adult; for us the age of majority is seventeen.”

“You were a child,” you insisted. “A child soldier. Whatever you had to do was not your fault.”

“Stop. I was old enough to know better. It was my fault – and my parents’. If anyone, I blame them for spoiling me rotten and teaching me I was above everyone… Especially Father. And I also blame him for joining that maniac. Had he not been so stupid I wouldn’t have had to join either, and I won’t ever forgive him for that. Not that I can, now.” He made another bitter, joyless laugh.

“Were your mother and you sent to prison too?”

“No, only Father,” he said tonelessly. “Mum was not as active a Death Eater as him and I, and hadn’t committed any actual crimes. And at the end of the war our family switched sides; another mitigating circumstance.” Then he added, almost reluctantly. “I would still have been sentenced with Father, but they thought I had been too young to understand what I signed up for when I took the mark. So I was let off.”

You didn’t say ‘I told you so’, but thought it.

“Father didn’t last long in that prison for a second time. When he was gone, Mum inherited the estate and as far as I know she still lives there. I have no contact with her.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t stand staying in our world when everyone knew what I had done. Everywhere I went, I’d get hateful looks. Hearing people whispering behind my back… saying I should have been punished.” He sighed. “It would perhaps have been better if I had been sent to prison. If I took my punishment and paid the price for my crimes, they would think better of me.”

“I’m so sorry.” You put your arms around him. “No wonder you are lonely.”

“Don’t be!” He sounded exasperated. “How many times must I tell you I’m no good? I don’t deserve anyone’s pity.”

Despite his outburst he wasn’t pushing you away. Rather, you felt him hugging you back. Clinging to you.

“It doesn’t matter how many times because I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true! Even when little, I was a nasty little shit. A bully at school, teasing other kids just because. Bragging about my wealth. And I despised muggles and muggle-born. Didn’t you listen to what I said about Riddle’s worldview? I would have made you a slave, unless I killed you first. If bad things happen to me, that's justified!”

It didn’t make sense. He repeatedly insisted he was a bad person, and said he had hated non-magical people, yet he went to a university in your world, and spent lots of time helping you and his other classmates. He had taken you to the opera and a ball, and earlier he even said he liked you. Somehow his words didn’t match his behavior.

It was as if he deep down wanted you to keep making excuses for his former crimes. To convince him he was wrong about being a bad person.

You snuggled closer, pressing your face against his neck, comforting yourself as much as him. “Many children are nasty and selfish. If you realize yourself you were a bully, it means you’re sorry for what you did. It means you’ve changed. You did bad things in the past but decided to be a better person – that’s worth something.”

He didn’t reply to that.

“You’re not bad.”

“I am.” But he sounded less convinced.

“No. You have changed.”

“I tried, I guess.”

“And you succeeded. Since I met you, you have been nothing but nice to us, what was the word… muggles.”

He dropped his shoulders, finally losing part of his tension. “I wanted a fresh start… doing it right, for once. Nobody knew me here. I could make friends with normal, kind people like you. And it worked… you invited me in. I had never… I didn’t know what it felt like to have friends who liked me for me, not for who my parents were.” He paused, sounding thoughtful when he began again. ”I mean, I’ve always had people around me, and they’d do what I told them to do, and laugh at my jokes, and appear like friends, but I don’t think they ever liked me. Feared me, perhaps, and envied me most certainly. As soon as my family lost our status they disappeared.” He hugged you a little harder. ”That’s why your friendship meant so much. It felt real. But it’s been difficult to always guard my tongue, and always pretend. I wanted to be honest but I couldn’t… I can’t, or my cover will be blown. If word gets out about my powers, or the Dark Mark, then it’s only a matter of time before my old world catches up with me. I’d have to leave.” He eased your arms away from him. “And that’s why this… can’t be. That’s why you must forget this night.”

Something about the way he said it, and the way he gripped his wand purposefully, made you realize what he meant.

“A spell? There is a spell to make someone forget?”

His bleak face was answer enough.

You grew cold despite the warming charm around you. The memory loss after the pub night! You had thought you drank so much you had blackouts, but what if he had erased some of your memories?

“Did you… do it before?”

“Once. I’m sorry. You saw the Dark Mark and I had said too much about my past. I had to. I couldn’t risk that you told someone… If it’s any comfort, you did consent to it.”

You were beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to forget what you told me tonight. I want to know the real you, with your background. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I can’t risk it.” He made a wry face and raised the wand. “Gods know it’s easy to let something slip by accident, or we wouldn’t have this conversation.”

“No.” You shook your head vividly. “I don’t consent. You heard that? I don’t consent.” You tried to take the wand but he held it out of your reach.

You stood on your knees, grappling for it, pushing him until he lay on his back in the grass. You knew he was physically stronger and could have easily withstood your attempt, instead he was strangely passive. You plucked the wand from his unresisting fingers.

He smiled sadly. “The wand makes it easier but I don’t need it.”

“Then I’ll stop you from saying the spell.” You put your palm over his mouth.

He removed your hand. “Spells can be performed nonverbally.”

The last resistance left you and you sank down beside him. “Please, Drake.” Your voice became a sob. “We are friends. Friends don’t steal each other’s memories.”

“It’s Draco.” He cupped your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. ”Draco Malfoy.”

His eyes were so large, so unhappy. He was so close.

“Draco…” You became lost in his gaze, enthralled. He could work magic just by looking at you.

You leaned over him, gradually lessening the short distance.

He raised his head to meet you. And then your lips touched.

It was brief; only a light caress, yet brimming with feeling.

He drew your face back to him and you kissed again, closer now. His lips were soft but not too soft, molding themselves against yours. Neither of you took control; you kissed in synchrony, exploring each other as if you had all the time in the world. As if this would not be erased from your memory within moments, never to be repeated.

You stretched out your legs, half covering his body with yours, and he placed his palm on the small of your back. Holding you close.

He opened his mouth slightly; you did the same. Your tongues met. He tasted sweet like raindrops.

Bittersweet, as it were, for the memory of his taste would be robbed from you as well.

Kissing Draco was divine. You hadn’t known it could feel this way; how intimate and emotional. How affectionate.

You never wanted to stop, and he made no indication of finishing either. You couldn’t get enough of each other.

He rolled you over, switching positions. Kissing you and kissing you more, your breaths mingling. His hands enveloped your face and you drew your fingers through his hair.

Your lips became sore and raw but neither of you stopped. Because if you did, this would end.

You knew he didn’t want it to end either.

You turned on your side and he followed. Lying face to face in the grass, so close he filled your vision completely. Kissing each other again and again.

”I don’t want to forget this,” you whispered between kisses. ”It’s not fair. Because you will remember…”

”How is that fair?” he returned in a low murmur. ”I will remember it and know what I’ve lost… Forgetfulness is bliss.”

”Then don’t do it.” You put a finger on his swollen bottom lip.

“I have to. This is too… complicated. Risky. But I won’t lie, it’s tempting…” He kissed your fingertip, then planted tiny pecks on your palm. “Fuck. My self-restraint has become disastrous lately. The other time I had to remove your memories I decided to quit uni and do something else, but even that resolution failed. I couldn’t keep away. And now, I just can’t bring myself to… but I must. I really must do it, you know.”

“No, I don’t know, and I disagree. I can keep a secret.”

”Even if you kept the secret, I think it’s a bad idea. I come with a lot of baggage. You don’t need my shit in your life.”

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?”

He didn’t seem to know what to answer and lay on his back again, gaze becoming lost in the pale night sky.

His silence lit a tiny spark of hope in you. He was considering it, you were certain about that. Weighing pros and cons.

You rested your head on his chest and he put an arm around you, idly stroking your back. You listened to his steady heartbeat, filling your nostrils with his scent. Making the most of the moment. Waiting.

“If you told anyone about magic and wizards, I suppose I could obliviate them instead,” he said after a long while. “But are you sure you want to be with someone like me? A Death Eater and a criminal. I’m pretty messed up.”

You raised your head so you could bore your eyes into his sternly. “You are not a criminal; you were pardoned. You have changed. And I care about you. A lot. You’d have to remove half of this year from my memories for me to forget that, so you’d better get used to me!”

His lips curled up slightly and his eyes got a resigned look. You knew you’d won before he spoke.

“Alright then. I won’t take your memories.”

A/N:

Thanks for reading! I’m super happy for feedback, don’t be afraid to share your thoughts! Do you think a bully and former criminal can change and become a better person?

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #university setting #fanfiction #fluff #feel good #draco x you #draco malfoy is nice #muggle reader #tom felton #A Magical Classmate #Mimi Lind

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nekoannie-chan · 3 months ago

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Touching

Title: Touching.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X OFC.

Word count: 327 words.

Square: 2 “Sensitive skin.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Different kind of touching can show too much information.

Major Tags: Implied smut.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @fandom-free-bingo Flight Edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Kathleen had a gift, or a curse, depending on how you looked at it.

Steve found Kathleen on the rooftop of the building where he lived, where she had been waiting for him. She was alone, looking out over the city with a thoughtful expression.

Kathleen turned her head and said, "Kathleen," said Steve.

Kathleen turned her head and smiled at him, then hugged him.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. We've hardly seen each other lately," he continued, as they walked toward the apartment.

“Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it," she said suddenly.

There they started kissing, and everything was getting more and more intense, until suddenly Kath rushed out of the apartment, leaving Steve confused.

It wasn't the first time it had happened, but Steve was determined to find out what was going on.

One day after a date, Steve accompanied Kathleen home, but before they arrived a heavy rain caused them to end up soaked.

Steve went into the house, while Kath went to get some towels. As they dried off, there was a palpable tension in the air, a mutual attraction that they both felt but that Kathleen struggled to keep at bay. Steve took a step closer, hugged her back and began to kiss her.

"Kathleen, you don't have to face all this alone," he said, his voice low and sincere. I'm here for you, no matter what.

Kathleen felt a lump in her throat.

“Steve, I... “she began, but stopped, "I'm afraid. Afraid of what I might see in you, you know that if I touch someone, I can see their memories, but actually... if... if... if the touch is more intimate... "

Steve reached out a hand towards her but stopped himself before touching her.

“Kath, I trust you. No matter what you see, it won't change how I feel about you. "

“Are you sure? “she asked, her voice trembling.

“Completely sure. "

#FandomFreeBingo #steve rogers x ofc

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pizza-writes · 2 years ago

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Just in Time

A Clone Fic Gift Exchange Special

Pairing: Echo x GN PlusSized!Reader

Summary: y/n discovers the consequences of crossing an evil businessman.

Prompt: “It’s alright, Cyar’ika, I’m here now.”

Warnings: death threat, anxiety, jump scare. Other than that there’s a bunch of fluff, Echo being a heartthrob, and Omega being the younger sister we all wish we had

Rating: General audience

Notes: This is a special gift for @eyes-of-the-rave! I hope you enjoy! This is set in early season 2 so it doesn't really have spoilers.

@cloneficgiftexchange thanks again for hosting this event! It’s been such an amazing opportunity and the thrill of seeing people’s’ creativity has been so worth it.

Word Count: 2.5k

“You’d better pay up before I see you again,” he drawled, toying with his blaster, “or I’ll be forced to do something about you.” Your eyes widened as you searched his expression for any sign of mercy.

“Like what?” You cursed smile that you donned as you spoke. “You’re a sensible businessman, Darig. You would lose tenants if you–”

“You’ve been warned, y/n. Let’s hope, for your sake, that you can scrap up those credits in time.”

When Echo looked up, his eyes flicked immediately to the splash of pastel color in the drab cockpit. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched you listen intensely to Omega as she told a Phee-esc story. The way your face lit up at certain details that Omega dramatized… you looked so happy.

He could spend hours with you. Something about you radiated life—it was like you knew the colors inside of you could enhance each moment and everyone around you, so you wore them on your sleeve. At first, it was frustrating seeing how bubbly you were when he was so used to being with war-hardened soldiers, but it didn’t take long before everything about you was endearing. Of course, Echo could never have the guts to say this. Maybe he’d drop hints—the raising of his brows whenever you were mentioned; letting his eyes linger a little too long as you walked past; extra smiles while you talked to him.

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder and he started, looking up at a smug Hunter. “You might have some competition,” Echo rolled his eyes.

“You see me keeping track?”

Hunter chuckled. “I would be lying if I said no,”

Echo looked back at you and Omega. The younger had begun to act out something she’d done—by now he had gathered enough context from his just now tuning in to know Omega was telling about a mission a few weeks ago that she had headed. It wasn’t often that the kid took charge, but she was the best option they had on overt operations when y/n wasn’t there. Nobody notices a kid in a crowd.

“And then Echo burst in and POW POW POW!! Just in time, he took out the rest of them before they could get me!”

You turned and met his eyes and Echo swore his stomach did a flip. “Oh really? And did you thank your knight in shining armor?” Omega frowned in thought.

“I don’t think so.” She bounded over and practically jumped into his arms to give him a smothering hug. “Thanks, Echo!”

He chuckled, returning the hug. They were getting a lot more frequent, so they didn’t catch him by surprise like they used to. “Anytime, kid.”

She skipped back over to y/n to finish the story. Hunter clapped Echo’s shoulder and sat in the chair opposite him. It wasn’t long before they arrived at Ord Mantell and Tech came and took Omega’s seat.

I’ll be forced to do something about you.

When the Marauder touched down you got up and stretched, stiff from the long trip and shaky from your overworking mind. You retrieved your gear, hardly registering the others as you made for the door. When you were young it didn’t take much to ease your fears. You had a vivid memory of your mother’s beautiful eyes peering into yours as she told you a story. Her soothing voice distracted you from your trembling body and hot tears as she carried you off into another galaxy. Now you couldn’t recall what made you so afraid that day.

You had hoped storytime with Omega would have a similar effect, but upon doing a quick evaluation, you accepted that you weren’t as easy to calm down anymore. Of course, child-you didn’t often have death threats looming over them. You kept your head down as you walked, searching for any kind of hope to cling to. Sometimes your landlord was out of town, so perhaps you wouldn’t see him this time. You wouldn’t have to uncover that “something” that he’d threatened. Occasionally you didn’t stop by your flat for several weeks, so he might not suspect anything. The reasoning didn’t offer much in ways of comfort, but often looking for hope in dark places provides such results.

Back in Cid’s parlor, you sat on a bench by the far wall, foot tapping as you tried to come up with solutions to your dilemma. You had only earned a third of the credits you needed. You knew that going outside was hardly an option. Darig had eyes everywhere. You just hoped that your presence hadn’t been reported already. It would be a surprise if Cid herself hadn’t told him.

“You hungry, y/n?” Wrecker called, breaking you from your haze. “We’re gonna grab a bite.”

You glanced at the floor and bit your cheek. “If it’s not a hassle, could you bring me something back? I’m really tired.”

Echo said, “You know what? Bring me something too.”

The others left and Echo crossed to you, plopping onto the bench.

“You didn’t have to stay,”

“Probably not, but I have a few reasons.” He gestured to his bionic legs and swung the right one out. It lurched unnaturally as he moved it. “It’s been acting up for a few rotations but Tech hasn’t had the time or equipment to fix it yet. That and your other company,” Echo paused, eyes turning to the bar for a moment, “isn’t the most trustworthy.”

“We haven’t given her any reasons to betray us,”

“Yet,”

You sighed, nodding at his sentiment. Your mind drifted back to its present default.

Echo said, “You’ve been really quiet since we got back,”

You bit your lip, face warm. “Oh, I’m sorry,”

“It’s alright. We all have our days.” He said. “Need to talk about anything?”

You hesitated, wondering if it would be too much to put on him. “It’s probably not something you can fix. You’re all in your own kind of financial struggles.”

He hummed. “Humor me,”

“I’m a little behind on my rent,” You sighed. “I have some of the credits to pay it off, and I was hoping that with my being gone so often with you boys that my landlord would be a little kinder,”

“But he hasn’t been,” Echo frowned.

“Yeah,”

“Maybe you could get some credits from Cid. Omega once paid off all our debts to her in a day of playing dejarik,”

You shrugged, “What could I offer Cid? There’s not much I can do for her other than what I already am. I think I’ll just avoid my landlord. Maybe I can pay my debt off next time we’re here.”

Some time later the boys returned with a couple of food boxes, which Echo retrieved for the both of you. You immediately noticed Tech’s distress as he trailed in behind everyone else. You were about to mention it when he addressed Echo:

“I finally located the calibrator necessary to readjust the motor for the hydraulics on your cybernetics but it’s all but destroyed. The only explanation I can render is that somebody used it without my knowledge and then failed to put it away correctly.”

You poked at the food in front of you, wondering where the kriff those guys decided to pick it up from. It smelled alright though, so you tried it. Though, as you tuned back into the conversation, your appetite slowly diminished.

“I’m concerned that should you continue to use that leg, it can cause damage due to overcompensation. Frankly, I am unsure of what other side effects there will be. To be safe, until I have the proper tools to fix it, you need to keep the knee joint’s movement to a minimum.”

“Tech, you can’t expect me to not walk for however long it takes you to find this thing.”

“I said minimum, not zero. Just know that the more you use it, you’re raising the chances of us having to do much more than fix a motor. That takes time and credits.”

You listened in with a sour expression. All they needed was a calibrator. You had one but there was one tiny issue with it. It was at your flat.

“How difficult would it be to get that tool?” You said.

“Unsure. It’s not a common instrument.”

You folded your arms and sighed, catching a look from both Tech and Echo.

“I have a calibrator at my flat. If you need it, I’ll get it.”

Echo cut in. “What about your landlord?”

“I’ll avoid him. How hard could it be?”

Your trembling limbs cursed your frivolous statement at Cid’s. How hard could it be to evade Darig? You should have asked how hard it would be to get to your flat without having a breakdown. The walk itself was difficult without being terrified—even with your new exercise routine with Wrecker every day, mundane tasks still wore you out. That was the nature of being heavy, which could prove inconvenient at times, regardless that you accepted it. At this point in life, you were exhausted by people seeing fat as negative, so you’d made it your goal to keep any self-talk positive. You only hoped that the goodness you offered yourself shined through to others.

The flat came into view, tearing you from your thoughts. Your heart pounded so loud you wondered if it might explode. Armed with a blaster and determination, you paved through the thick air. You snuck into your flat, every noise alerting you. It didn’t take long to find the tool but it felt like you searched for years. With the calibrator in hand, you looked around to be sure you didn’t need anything else.

You slinked back to the door and took a moment to ground yourself before you moved on. You pressed a button and the door swooshed open. A silhouette floored you. His silhouette. You screamed and jumped back. His gloved hand caught your shirt. A blaster pushed against you. He walked you backward until your back pressed flush against the wall.

“I thought you were smarter than this, y/n.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Sorry won’t pay your rent.” Darig stepped away, looking around the small room a moment before his dark eyes locked on yours. “I have built up a reputation. I would not be here had I been a liar along the way. Pray tell… do you recall our conversation last time we met?”

You stared at him, frozen. If you could only reach your blaster…

“Yes,”

“So you know what I must do.”

You racked your brain for answers. Frowning, you replayed that vivid memory. Then something clicked. “No—you never told me what you would do.”

He cocked his head. “Oh?”

“You said you’d have to do something about me. You never said anything specific. You wouldn’t be a liar if you let me go—”

Darig tutted and examined a spot on the floor. “I suppose I didn’t then, did I?”

“I’ll pay twice what I owe you. Just give me a little more time.”

“I’ve given you time.” He hissed. He aimed his blaster at you. “And now… well, now it looks like you’re out of it.”

“Speak for yourself,” came a gritty voice from the open door. Blaster fire lit up the flat. Darig collapsed. You would have followed had you not been so close to the wall. It took a moment to focus on the newcomer and once you finally did, you nearly cried.

“Echo—kriff, I thought—oh, maker…”

He closed the distance between you and holstered his blaster, drawing you into a hug.

His warmth washed over you. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I’m here now,”

“Thank you so much,” You drew a shaky breath.

He pulled away and offered a smile, though his brows were furrowed. Then his expression fell. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I will be,” You managed. “He didn’t do anything.”

He nodded, letting out a long breath. His attention turned back to Darig.

“How did you know to come?”

His wide eyes examined the room before turning back to you, “I had a feeling.” Then, “We need to go.”

Relief flooded over you as you sat at one of the booths and watched Tech work on Echo’s cybernetics. Tech’s immediate complaints about the usage of Echo’s leg upon his return still had you humored. Of course, the genius was worried about nothing, and Echo’s knee didn’t end up breaking down like he predicted it would.

Cid made her way over to you and sat across the table, looking you in the eye. “You and your boys really like ticking off the big names, huh?” She sighed, “I made arrangements. As long as you’re working for me, you have my protection.”

“You have them on a leash too, huh?”

She squinted. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your only defense from his goons. I had to pull a lot of strings for this to work.”

“Thank you, Cid.” You smiled with a small hint of playfulness only visible if one were to look hard enough.

“Watch it, kid,” She eyed you, getting up. “That extra protection isn’t free… Speaking of which, why didn’t you ask for help paying your rent? I woulda offered you a job in here.”

“I dunno. I assumed you wouldn’t want my help.”

She huffed, speaking as she walked away. “You kiddin’? If you did work here I’d have more time to work on building my empire. And with the new debt you owe me, you might wanna consider this an offer.”

Cid moseyed into her office and you glanced at Tech and Echo. They both had the same look in their eyes: that crustation can’t be serious. You bit back a grin. Tech shook his head and returned his focus to Echo, muttering something as he worked on the leg.

From Hunter and Wrecker’s side of the room, Omega took Cid’s leave as an opportunity to claim the seat next to yours. You had explained the run-in with Darig as soon as you’d returned, leaving out no details. As you’d talked, you hinted at a plan to move out, and Hunter caught on. He offered you a place on the team full time and you said you’d let him know even though you knew the answer already.

“I’m glad you’re okay, y/n.” Omega hugged your arm.

“All thanks to him,” You glanced up at Echo, heart swimming as you pictured the way he looked into your eyes as he made sure you were alright. You could get lost in those eyes for an eternity. You turned to Omega and smiled.

“This all has me thinking, I’m really glad I have you all. You’re like my family.”

“Well, yeah,” She sat up and looked at her brothers. “We love you a lot. I know we don’t always show it—especially them. They’re not used to showing love, but you’re really helping them learn. Especially Echo. He’s a lot happier with you here.”

You chuckled, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Remember the story you were telling me on the way here?”

“About the mission?”

“Yeah… You were right about something. Echo really does come just in time.”

//~//~//

I hope you liked it! This was so much fun to write!!

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masterlist • clone fic gift exchange masterlist

#the bad batch #tbb x reader #the bad batch one shots #tbb #the bad batch fanfic #the batch batch x reader #echo tbb #echo x reader #hunter tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #omega tbb #the bad batch echo x reader #cloneficgiftexchange

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phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing · 10 months ago

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putting the google translate version of the Sa and Vita convo here bc the official translation is a bit confusing

Moriarty: Haha, hahahaha! Moriarty: What a great show! Moriarty: How does it feel to lose all your efforts? Got bitten by your own dog! Moriarty: Hey, you don't have a talent for comedy, do you? Sa: ... Moriarty: That last blow from the sky looked really painful! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with the wrong people? Moriarty: Haha, I feel really good! I haven’t watched such an interesting show for a long time. Moriarty: It is countless times more exciting than the version I originally conceived! Sa: ... Moriarty: Oh? You're just going to roll up your tail and run away? Moriarty: Well, given the nature of your “parasitic plant”, Moriarty: if you curl up your roots and hide in the depths of the Sea of Quanta for a few tens of thousands of years, you'll be able to make a comeback sooner or later. Moriarty: Only a human being would let his own damn pride get in the way and miss a chance to make a comeback... Moriarty: ...Hmm? Vita: I'm sorry to interrupt your pleasant conversation. Vita: How do you do, our Creator God? Vita: Oh, I forgot. We just saw each other. Sa: ... Vita: What, are you surprised to see me here? Vita: That unconvincing fake death performance earlier shouldn't be able to deceive your all-knowing and omnipotent "eyes", right? Vita: Or is that eye, as I suspected, not protecting against the presence of the “Ark”? Sa: ... Sa: ...Authority. Moriarty: Oh! So you can talk. Vita: That's right. Like the fly buzzing around you, I used the disguise of an Ark administrator to get past your guards and find you. Moriarty: You're all fighting amongst yourselves, but still don't forget to slander me? What a touching mother-daughter bond. Vita: If you had been able to put away a little bit of your arrogance and pay the minimum attention to this fly, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to come here in person—— Vita: ...to receive all your authority.

Sa: ... Moriarty: Haha, that's an unexpected twist! I didn't realize there was a hidden secret at the end of the show! Moriarty: It’s worth my while that I took the big gamble to come here so that I can enjoy this masterpiece in the upper class seats. Vita: Sigh... You pushy guy, do you really know what you are talking about? Vita: Most of your data has been shattered by that pillar of light, and the remnants left here will soon disperse on their own. Paying so much just to see a show? Moriarty: Of course, Miss Agent. I've never been so calm, so satisfied. What better feeling is there than to witness the end of a revenge drama? Moriarty: I'd give anything for fun... even if it didn't do me any good. Vita: ...Your comment reminds me of someone. Vita: Coincidentally, when I was "hitchhiking" with Fu Hua, I happened to catch a glimpse of a memory related to him and the self-satisfying ending. Vita: He was a world leader, but he only gambled with everyone's life; and in the end, he exchanged his own demise for a wishful "self-revenge". ..... Vita: Do you think this is called "different paths leading to the same destination", backup of "Otto Apocalypse"? Moriarty: Sincere thanks to you, Miss Agent, for bringing me useless information. I'd say you and “Sa” are cut from the same cloth. Vita: I have surpassed her.. The fact that I am here is the best proof, isn't it? I'll never make the same mistake as She did, and I'll go after true freedom. Sa: Freedom… is this what you really want? Or is it just because… you ask for it but don’t get it? Sa: The so-called “freedom” and “nothingness” are synonymous words. Vita: What about you? You have swollen so much that you can hardly move, have you really gained any “reality”? Sa: …Purusha, is me. Moriarty: Hahaha, is that why you sank into the “sea” in the first place? Moriarty: You have all-knowing and all-powerful eyes, but you can't even see yourself clearly. Haha! Our great Creator God is actually a blind god! Sa: Gods are blind in sight... Sa: Mortals are blind in the heart. Vita: Oh, you are quite confident when you say that—— Vita: Why don't you use these against the enemy with the “Eighth Sense”? Vita: He's your arch-enemy, isn't he? Sa: Mortals aren’t enemies. Sa: Just a pebble in the road. Vita: ... Vita: Well, congratulations. After all, your feet, it seems, are bleeding on these pebbles? Sa: ...That has nothing to do with them. Vita: But it’s about me. Sa: … Sa: [Agent], you are not an ordinary person. You have exceeded the limits of [expansion]. Moriarty: Oh, How to say it, how to say it? It turns out you will also become a rotten machine like her in the future? Moriarty: That’s a really rotten future, hahahaha! Sa: …the only freedom of god is also the only nothingness of mortals. Sa: The world is my representation, and the world is my will. Sa: The so-called “Godhood”... God was born because of me, and I died because of God. Vita: I think this sentence should be said the other way around. Vita: [I live because of God, and God dies because of me.] Vita: Do you suddenly feel better? Moriarty: What a pity! My God did not die because of me! Moriarty: Oh, no, wait. My “God” is already you all? Moriarty: A good death, a wonderful death! It’s a pity I can’t stick a cross in you all! Sa: …getting carried away. Ignorance is indeed the greatest sin of mortals. Sa: No mortal has ever killed a god. Sa: Only [Gods] can.

Sa: [Agent]... Sa: One day, you will also find your own executioner. Moriarty: Oh, oh! It seems that compared to ordinary people like us, gods like you are better at bringing disaster to yourself? Moriarty: Okay, okay, that just means that a mediocre person is just a mediocre person after all! Moriarty: Look at me… take a good look at your [exhibit]... Moriarty: Is there anything more ironic to you two than me being able to sit on this special seat? Vita: There’s no need for a king to kill his own court jester, right? Vita: Anyone can feel like the other person is an idiot on the inside… Do you think that’s important? Sa: There are no [idiots] here. Sa: The three wills that exist here have lost their own value from the beginning. Sa: They try to compensate, they try to ignore. They will only continue to expand… until they become ugly remains. Vita: Thank you for your advice, [Sa]. But what I am and what I want will all be decided by myself. Vita: I will do better than you, of course. It’s a pity that you can never imagine it if you are trapped in the [Sea]. Sa: … Sa: That’s really worth looking forward to. Vita: Yes, worth looking forward to. Vita: Us gods looking forward to our deaths is also very romantic, isn't it? Vita: ...That's the only emotion you have left. Moriarty: Oh? It seems that this is the end? Moriarty: I have to say that as my second ending, there is nothing more satisfying than this. Moriarty: Although you are my enemy, you are the initiator who interrupted my grand finale and brought great shame to me... Moriarty: I still pay you the highest respect, Miss "Vita". Moriarty: The way we exist is somewhat similar - it's like fate has played a nasty trick and we spend our lives trying to get out of this shadow. Moriarty: We are not the real body, but we have made achievements far beyond the real body. This is the proof of our existence in the world and our unique mark. Moriarty: If we hadn't met in this way, we would definitely have become very good friends... or destined rivals. Vita: …maybe. You are truly my most troublesome exhibit, "Moriarty." Moriarty: Ha! I would take that as the highest compliment. Vita: Indeed. So… Vita: Farewell, [nothingness]. Vita: I will accept those [Eyes of Bodhi]. [Who are you digging a grave for? Is it for a Phosphorus person?] [It's not for a Phosphorus person, miss.] [So, is it for the Purusha person?] [Not for a Purusha person either.] [Not a person of Phosphorus nor a person of Purusha - then who is buried here?] [Miss, she was originally a Purusha person, but she was already gone.] Vita: The so-called [Gods]... Vita: ...are truly [interesting].

#honkai impact #hi3 #vita #sa #hi3 lore #long post #sorry. it wouldn't save with the readmore

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calliecwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Immortal Goodbye

We sat by the shore, leaning against each other, legs in the water, silent in the warm night. We gazed up at the sky above the ocean, and at the stars’ reflections in the water, all full of colours no one had ever seen when we were young.

There – I pointed – my star – that one. Hers wasn’t visible.

We both wore our old human forms. You know – the ones the kids these days hardly ever use. Even I use it less and less. Form is a choice, now, not an obligation, and there are so many other things to be. But this is how we’d known each other, in the beginning – and it felt right to be this way, here, at our parting.

So you think you’ve got us down exactly? – two weird old women, scarred by the days when people actually died? I’m old enough to have a certain nostalgia for the ancestral form, that’s true. But you weren’t even born then. You don’t remember it – not unless someone shared the memory with you, as you’re no doubt wondering why I’m not doing, right now. Writing’s another weird old quirk, something I enjoyed back when it still served a purpose. There’s no difference between a shared memory and an original, everyone says so. But maybe I don’t want you to have to bear that burden.

So instead I’ll tell you about the days when we were first together, me and her, two baby immortals taking our first halting steps into our eternities �� back when it was all telomerase pills and rejuvenation treatments, and no one really knew if what we were buying into was a chance at forever, or only a few extra months.

We were clueless. The first years were chaos. No one knew how to think, then, about what we were becoming. Everything went so fast, everyone rushing around for their whole lives. No one had any time. But things changed, over decades – and that felt like a long time, then, if you can believe it. More people understood, and accepted, that things were, really, different. It reminded me of the end of my twenties, emerging into my calmer thirties – but this time for everyone. A collective sigh of relief, a letting-go of tension no one knew they were holding. Suddenly we had time, all of us. We had all the time in the world.

Nostalgia, right? But who am I kidding? – I would never go back. No one would. It wasn’t those days that were special, it was us, me and her, living through all of that together – decades as lovers, centuries after as friends – and who was surprised, really? ‘Till death do us part’ wasn’t designed for people who’ll outlive stars. Tonight we looked just like we did back then, though under the surface there was nothing the old days would have recognised as even remotely human. But I don’t need to tell you about that – you, who were born to this nature long after we had adopted and adapted to it.

Are you still surprised? – that I’d choose to spend my last night before departure with her, despite all the loves since then? There’s a bond between us, me and her, that goes beyond all that. Give it a few more centuries, and maybe you’ll understand.

Tomorrow we’ll be on our ships, bound for different stars and different callings. The journey will take decades. Generation ships, they’d have called them, back in the days when no one thought it would ever really happen. No one would give up those precious, limited decades, they’d say, on a voyage they’d never see the end of. Humans weren’t fit to live among the stars. Well, none of those are true anymore – and no one will die on the voyage. Not ever again.

Those stars are far enough apart that even light will take years to travel between them. We’ll keep in touch once we arrive, but nothing like tonight will be possible again for a long time. We’ll see each other again, we’ll visit, but when that journey takes decades too, who knows how long it will be before one of us does it?

Still, what are centuries to people like us?

Back to tonight, back to me and her on the shore. We let our minds merge together, one last time – seeing through each other’s eyes, feeling our clasped hands, knowing each other’s thoughts on a level beyond words. There was light in the water, bioluminescence, and we smiled and let our bodies glow in response, patterns that pulsed together but were all our own. It was a trick she’d taught me long ago, when all of this was new.

Both of us will have a complete memory of this night. There will be no wondering how the other felt, no what-ifs, no might-have-beens. It was the most we could give each other, the most anyone ever can. I said we were old. But really, we’re young, next to what we’ll become. Childhood never truly ends now.

Two women holding hands, sitting by the shore, under the stars – it was a scene that could have been in any century. But we weren’t looking back – we were looking to the wide-open future, and beyond.

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#writing #writeblr #fiction #short story #my writing #sci fi #sci fi writing #writeblrcafe

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