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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years ago

Text

Closer

Neil x F!Reader

Summary: Plot what plot.

Warnings: 18+ (and I really mean it this time), they're both trying to dominate and I've no clue what's going on.

Author's Notes: Suppose this is what happens when an image won't leave you alone and you crave a self-indulgent one-shot... I don't even know, but this took remains of my sanity. Challenged myself with more graphic and this is what we ended up with.

Thank you Shet for reassurance through writing this and not having enough of my whining.

Feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you'll enjoy!

It is always the same. That brilliant idea to go for lunch and do a round of sightseeing in the afternoon because surely it wouldn’t be too bad. Right?

Well, whoever thought of that was owed an excruciating death in the fires of Hell. Or Orcus, as would be more appropriate for the current location. Who knew the Italian coast transforms into the Death Valley over summer? Sighing with exasperation, you waited not so patiently as Neil slipped the key card into the door and opened the room with a typical flourish. Feeling the constant trickle of sweat down your back, you pushed him inside unceremoniously and let the door close with a thud. As the cold air enveloped your body with the sweetest of embraces, you could not hold back a pleased groan.

“Fuck” the curse not enough to express the internal pain “Jesus fucking Christ, I hate this heat,” accentuating the meaning you aggressively lowered the aircon temperature to 18C “Did I mention that temps above 25 Celsius should be made illegal?” remembering about Neil’s presence, you glared at him.

It was his shit idea in the first place. And you were never letting that one go. He was staring at you with amusement glimmering in the blue eyes. Another reason to punch him in the teeth. Or something.

“More or less twenty times within the last hour, why?” answering your question, he opened the minibar and took out a bottle of water.

Nonchalantly perching on the desk, he took a longer sip, still watching you with curiosity. No remorse whatsoever over the tortures he put you through. Annoying.

But not more so than the sweat still running down your skin, making the fabric stick to your body in places you never deemed possible. When leaving the hotel three hours ago, the linen shirt sounded like a good idea. Now, with half of it drenched, you were sure nudity was the only viable option to go outside. Groaning with frustration, you tugged at the garment, grimacing at the feel of the damp fabric.

“God, everything just feels… wet” uttering the word with loathing, you added, “Like soaking wet,”

That got Neil’s attention. He glanced up with the lips slightly parted, one eyebrow raised.

“Everything?” a quick scan of your body, swallowing hard as though the suggestion triggered thirst that no water could quench.

Uh-huh. The irritation too high to give in just yet. Instead, you allowed yourself to sweep your gaze over his form leisurely. The only sign that he too was bothered by the heat was the glistening forehead and flushed cheeks. The usually fluffy mane tamed, strands sticking to the temples. Still devilishly handsome. With the long legs crossed and the blue polo shirt perfectly bringing out the colour of his eyes, he looked godly. Unfair. Prompted by that thought, you closed the distance and snatched the chilled water bottle out of his hand:

“It’s not like you’d get it, though. Even soaked in sweat you look like a bloody… male Aphrodite” throwing in the slight, you quickly downed the rest of the water.

Another look at your boyfriend was enough to assure you the metaphor worked. Neil was gaping at you, utterly puzzled, and then slowly looked down as if to check himself out. You snickered when he lifted the edge of the shirt and touched his abdomen with a dream-like expression. Fondly: idiot.

“Is that an insult or a compliment? Because I admit I lost you there” shaking off the stupor, he met your watchful gaze with a frown.

It was difficult to stay mad for much longer. And so…

“Whichever one you want,” shrugging, you unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to the ground, “I need a shower. ASAP”

Without waiting for Neil to respond, you started taking off the shirt. With a disgusted sound, you threw it next to the skirt and positioned yourself underneath the AC. Still too many clothes. The noise of plastic bottle hitting the bin and then:

“Whoa…” the playful tone making you look up straight into the mischievous sparks in Neil’s eyes, “That’s giving me all sorts of ideas” he eyed you slowly, gaze taking in your body clad only in underwear.

Not that it was anything new. And usually, you would play along with pleasure, curious about where it might lead you this time. Now, however, that fire of annoyance burning bright still needed tending. And shower sounded much better than whatever Neil might offer.

With a huff, you reached to unclasp the bra and let it join the carnage in the hallway. One look at his hungry expression was enough to prompt an idea. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek and, without leaving time to react, pressed the bathroom handle:

“I won’t lock the door” an off-hand remark rather than an invitation.

But you knew it would work. It always did.

Once inside, thanks to the striptease you indulged in, all that was left was to take off the panties and step into the shower. You turned on the rain head and sighed with happiness when the chilly water cooled off your body. That is what bliss felt like. You closed your eyes, contented enough to stand under the running water. Grounding yourself in the feeling of your palm pressed firmly to the tiled wall. A smug smirk spreading on your lips when, finally, you heard the bathroom door open and close. So predictable.

You kept your back turned to the entrance to the shower, eyes closed if only to keep up the act of mild irritation. Not so mild, in fact, but enough not to give Neil satisfaction by throwing yourself in his arms. He would have to work a little to get something out of it.

At first, a tentative touch running up your spine in the familiar expression of his presence. Enough to trigger the light flicker of passion. With the cold water, it was easy to pretend the goosebumps were not his accomplishment. Encouraged by your stillness, Neil took a step, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. A traitorous gasp swallowed with effort. You heard him chuckle lowly while slowly caressing your body. A puff of warmer air against the side of your neck:

“Ever since I saw you in that sundress, I wanted to do this,” Neil whispered the confession with confidence.

Lips grazing over the shell of your ear, alighting the nerve endings with precision. You knew which dress he meant. The clothing choice from a day earlier, haunting with an accompanying pride. Good to know.

“What exactly?” feigning nonchalance, you kept your hands pressed against the wall and the glass window.

For now, it was easy to ignore the need slowly pooling in your lower stomach. You wanted to keep on playing the game a little longer. To see how far he was willing to go.

Neil tightened the grip, winding both of his arms around your waist. No space left between you.

“Pull you flush against me,” the explanation complemented with a brave sweep of hand over your stomach “Feel your skin and curves under my fingertips” instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, the desire building up steady “Feel the way you shiver whenever I touch you like this” his fingers teasingly running up and down your navel.

The assumption was enough to give back that spark of annoyance. A fight to keep up the role a little longer. Struggling with the overwhelming breathlessness, you whispered back the question:

“Aren’t you giving yourself too much credit?” you reached behind you to run a ghostly touch over his hipbone.

Feeling the skin and the relishing in the shallow gasp. In retaliation, Neil let his hands venture higher, cupping your breasts and circling the nipples. Fuck. At that move, there was no way of stopping the shudder running through your body.

“Am I?” you heard the amusement in his voice, palms executing death perfectly.

Nothing left to do but sigh and press up against him in search of fulfilment. But the teasing was far from finished. You felt his lips experimentally glide over the nape of your neck, collecting the water droplets and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Searching for support, you firmly placed your hand on his hip, gasping at the feel of him pressing into your backside. The hardness never failing to cause a rush of excitement flowing through your body. As though sensing your growing arousal, Neil continued the teasing in a low, soft tone:

“I wanted to kiss down your neck, graze my teeth over your perfect skin” making his words come true, he trailed kisses down the nape of your neck.

A sigh each time he lightly bit your shoulder, a groan with every single butterfly touch along your shoulder blades. Carefully tiptoeing the line between animalistic passion and tender caress that seemed to define your relationship. Only this time, with anger still fresh on your mind, you began getting impatient, suddenly eager for him to speed it up. To give you something more substantial.

Using the strike of courage, you reached your hand further back, curious fingers dancing over him in the mildest of provocations. To give him a sign that patience was running thin. It worked for Neil let out a strangled groan and stopped the careful study of your neck with a painful hickey over the pulse point. That was bound to leave a deep red mark. He did not give you time to react, pulling you somehow even closer and delving the hand between your legs with ease:

“To slip my fingers between your thighs and feel how wet you are because of me,” the sentence murmured with an unmistakable tint of want hazing his mind.

He wasted no time, instantly parting your folds, collecting the arousal, and spreading it to ease whatever was bound to come next. The feeling was familiar yet still clouding your brain with need. Because now even the cold water was not helping the rising temperature. Nothing left to lose. Time to give in and take what he would offer. As he repeated the torturous move, barely touching your clit or putting pressure on the throbbing parts, you decided to take matters into your hands.

“And?” using the question as a distraction to encircle his wrist.

And raise the offensive hand to your lips. Licking his fingers clean before the water could. A sharp gasp told you it worked. Using the momentum, you turned around in his embrace and met the shocked, darkened gaze with a smirk of your own. Neil glanced at your lips as though tempted to collect the remains of your taste from them and locked his eyes with yours:

“Get down on my knees and have a taste of my favourite drug,” a murderous glint within the blue depths.

Knowing well enough how much you enjoyed that. How often you would ask for it.

Your thighs clenched on their own accord, anticipation heightening the senses. To find a brief relief, you rose on your toes and crashed your mouth into his, knowing Neil would meet you halfway. The tumultuous kiss filled with chaos, hunger, and need, betraying the love underscoring every other adjective befitting your connection. The tongues easily slipping in, curling around each other, seeking the ultimate pleasure.

“What’s stopping you?” after a long snog, you broke the contact and panted out, resting your forehead against his.

Allowing yourself a second of gentleness. Admiring the affectionate look in Neil’s eyes, you slowly caressed his body. Returning the previous torments with your dose of playfulness. Letting him remember that you were not the only one that was so ready. That the attraction was mutual, and you knew that very well. Explorative touches down his length, enjoying the way he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to find the lost thread. After a beat, he met your gaze once again. The darkness startling.

“Nothing” using a second of hesitation, Neil took your courageous hand in his and searched your face, “Only… say please” the satisfied smirk added the wicked gleam to his face.

You considered scoffing and pushing him out to keep the pride intact. But… with the core practically dripping with the need for a release, that had to be forgotten. Clenching your jaw to stop the shame from springing up, you uttered the word with apprehension:

“… Please,” making sure to show him the extent of annoyance.

A retaliation already forming in your mind. Revenge would be sweet.

“Good girl” thought processes cut short with the two words.

Oh fuck. Simple, yet more effective than anything else. A jolt of want passing through your body as Neil tipped your chin, arrogantly pleased with himself. He could read you like a book, knowing well what praise would do. This time there was no holding back. No shame or reluctance.

“You fucking-” spitting out the words with annoyance, your rant got stopped with a finger pressed firmly against your lips.

“Shush,” the stern tone, shutting you up with yet another wave of arousal.

The steel look in Neil’s eyes only increasing the sensation. It was bound to get interesting. As if drawn by your dark stare, he closed the gap and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The water, running down, slipping in the gap between you, failing to satisfy the craving. Prodded by the sudden flash of need, you let your teeth catch Neil’s lower lip and tugged at it forcefully. A clear signal to stop stalling. Ending the contact with a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, he met your wild gaze with a calculating assessment. You knew the game well, frozen by the multitude of feelings. Not that it would’ve made him speed up. He enjoyed the control too much to give in.

A final searching look, your hand helplessly clinging to the gaps between the tiles.

“The louder, the better, you know that” brushing his nose over your ear, he whispered the command huskily.

Another reason to hold on tight. A flare-up of anger within your chest, mixing with the increasing frustration.

“I hate you,” you got as far as seething out the sentence before the voice died in your throat.

Neil grinned and lightly pushed you at the wall to give himself the needed space. Without wasting a moment, he started leaving kisses down your body. Gentle pecks on the shoulders, softening the previous damage. Tongue swirling around your nipples, causing a whimper to escape through your parted lips. Your free hand instinctively latched onto his head, finding an anchor in the wet blonde strands. Slowly, Neil inched his way down, kneeling at your feet, hands running up your thighs, creating sparks in their wake.

“Let’s see how long that holds true” he looked up, nothing but a smug smile and dark, hungry eyes.

Fucked. Terrifyingly so.

There was no time to react as he left a trail of kisses up your thighs, getting closer yet taking his time. And then, something you would never get tired of. The first, experimental kitten lick along your slit, parting the folds and spreading the arousal. As if that was needed. Lapping up everything you were offering and making you tighten the grip over his hair. Shocks passing through your body upon every single touch of his tongue. As you yanked on his mane with force, letting out a string of curses, Neil raised his head. Your eyes were drawn to the glistening lips which he licked clean with an unhidden expression of delight.

“God, how I love this taste,” the compliment aimed with lethal precision, satisfaction lighting up his eyes.

Only to pick up the action the very next second. Temperature constantly rising, no mercy given. It only got worse when Neil added his skilful hand to the mix. Stroking the clit, eliciting moans and gasps. Your eyes screw shut, focusing on the way it felt when his finger entered you and started curling inside in search of that sweet spot.

“Jesus fuck” the profanity escaping when he added the second digit, all the while letting his tongue circle the sensitive bud.

Chuckle vibrating through your core, the unoccupied hand contradicting the moment with tender strokes along your hip. As if to soothe and support.

The haze, getting heavier, overcasting everything with the tint of need. For a release. For that high, the explosion of pleasure you were slowly edging. The scales tipped with two fingers curling inside you, hitting the most sacred of places, and Neil’s lips sucking on the clit without moderation. Taking everything with eagerness and delectation.

With the heat almost unbearable and the edges of your vision darkening, you could only pull at his hair with force and rasp out:

“Neil, I can’t-” the intent lost in the outburst of pleasure.

Every nerve, existing to receive what Neil was offering. Every cell, burning with ecstasy. You could feel the incoming wave, ready to succumb to it without a fight. Until he raised his head once more, feeling your muscles clench around his fingers, everything synced up perfectly.

“Come… on. For me,” the emphasis not escaping your overflooded mind, gaze meeting his helplessly, “Don’t be shy” a whisper, darkness tinting the vowels.

The feeling of defeat, adding a dose of shame into the whirlwind, fuelling the ideas of vengeance.

But there was no time to concentrate when Neil finished the act with the third finger easing in. Tipping you off the edge with a piercing cry and a desperate tug on his hair. The strength of the pull making him groan loudly, tongue collecting the arousal with frantic moves. Pleasure flooding your vision. Nothing but the water, Neil, and his body, solid beneath your shaking hands.

Your knees buckled, the force of the aftershocks ripping through your system. Feeling the high course through the veins, you shut your eyes and let out quiet whimpers, unable to process the reality. Sex with Neil was always memorable, but it has never been this intense. Especially only for an entrée.

Feeling your body relax, Neil retracted the hand and placed a final kiss on your clit with saintly reverence. You opened your eyes in time to see him look up, the dark blue irises rimmed with long dark eyelashes. Adoration. Want. Weak from the strength of that release, your legs wobbled as you tried to change position. Foot slipped on the slick tiles, and you already anticipated the fall when an arm wound around your waist, pulling you upright. Startled, you barely comprehended when he got up and saved you, making use of the smooth moves and long limbs.

“Got you,” a whisper against your temple as Neil hugged you close, cradling your body with care, “Always” his gaze met yours, tenderness overshadowing every other feeling.

On reflex, you mirrored his soft smile in an expression of gratitude. For much more than saving your ass from the bruises. Despite the maelstrom of emotions, you gave in to the gentle moment and returned the embrace, pressing your cheek against his chest. Listening to the fast, familiar heartbeat, you whispered:

“You nearly killed me just now,” the breathless tint only giving evidence to the statement.

It’s not like he wouldn’t know. With screams like those, he had to. Neil chuckled, one of his hands venturing up to cradle your head, the other tracing shapes onto your back. Water flowing down with the steady stream, enveloping your embraced bodies in comfortable warmth.

“That wasn’t the intention,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of your head.

You could hear the pleased tone there, indicating what you suspected. Following the playful thread, you leaned back enough to meet his gaze and asked:

“What was it then?” a hand running through his hair, watching the strands darken when wet.

At the roots, his natural light brown colour was beginning to show, adding a surprising edge to his startling physique. For you, that meant another evening soon spent sat on the edge of the toilet seat, laughing at his attempts at dying the hair on his own. Those were fun moments.

Catching your absent gaze, Neil tipped your chin to bring you back to the present and then grinned:

“To show you how much I adore you,” the simple answer laid with a soft kiss on your lips, signing off the sentiment.

You opened your mouth to let his tongue in instantly, breathing in the air he was willing to share and relishing in the familiarity of the moves. Lips slowly gliding over each other, tongues caressing and teasing. This one was filled with tenderness, an expression of love and devotion rather than hunger. A breather.

Not for long. Using the kiss as a distraction, you switched the positions, making sure Neil would have his back pressed against the wall. For convenience’s sake. Breaking the contact, you whispered the single-worded response:

“Mutually,” unable to wipe the devilish smirk from your face, you waited for a beat to let him catch up.

Those widening eyes were a perfect cue to grin with satisfaction at the perfectly executed setup for the payback. Neil stared back at you with confusion deepening on his face, slowly taking in the reality. Finally, a single word, a prelude to the mountain of questions:

“What-” his brow furrowed, giving you the needed moment to step in.

“Vengeance,” you winked, and wasting no time, lowered onto your knees, “Let me just… now that’s a wonderful view” shifting into the most comfortable position, you gave him a long admiring look from the new vantage point.

It really was. Never failing to make you that tiny bit more eager and hungrier since the first time. Especially when knowing what he is capable of.

The flood of specific memories flushing up your cheeks and giving needed courage to begin. You glanced up, searching for consent, and met Neil’s hazed stare. He seemed transfixed as if already well under your spell, one of his hands mirroring your desperate move from minutes prior, clinging to the tiles in search of support. You raised an eyebrow in the silent question. Yes?

Please. The fervent nod accompanied by the way he swallowed hard was all you waited for.

Never breaking eye contact, you licked your lips thoroughly, all the while using your hands to stroke him lightly. Enough to elicit a gasp. Emboldened by the reaction, you opened your mouth, letting out a warm puff of air to tease him. Neil groaned, the free hand reaching out to cup your cheek with tenderness you did not anticipate. As if distracting himself, he brushed away the damp strands of hair sticking to your face and brushed the pad of his thumb along your lower lip. Gratitude. A signal to start.

A few kitten licks along the length, letting him get used to the sensation. Sharp exhales, muscles tensing. Upping the game, you started focusing on specific areas, using the sound cues and the way his hand tightened the hold over the nape of your neck. Now and then, you would look up to see the darkened pupils and lips parted in the purest expression of pleasure. The furrowed brow and the clouded gaze, telling you when the right time was to bring his tip into your mouth. Gently swirling your tongue around the head, savouring the taste with quiet hums. Stroking the shaft with one hand, you used the other to rake your fingernails over his abdomen. Returning the markings he inflicted earlier.

The string of curses leaving his lips amongst the moans and groans was a good indication that it worked. Noticing the hint of impatience in how he quivered, hips thrusting on an impulse, you slowly inched your mouth down his length, enveloping him as far as you could without it becoming uncomfortable. The answering loud moan told you it was exactly what he needed. Meeting his dark stare, you nodded, permitting him to start moving his hips. The adoration meeting desire in his eyes as Neil sped up. Adjusting to the pace he needed, you started sucking on him. Cheeks hollowed, tiniest of moans drawn out to let him know you enjoyed the act, tongue collecting everything he was giving, anticipating the end with a familiar heat pooling between your thighs once again. Because seeing him like this, was more exciting than you deemed possible.

Then his thrusts got sloppier, knuckles of the hand clinging to the gaps in the tiles whitening; groans replacing any other sound. Soon. Suddenly he seemed to sober up a notch, blinking twice as though forcing the brain to work and then rasping out:

“God, I’m going to-” the meaning interrupted by a whimper when you took the opportunity to increase the pressure by a notch.

You could see the ridiculous dilemma flash in the blue eyes as if he worried about something like that. As if he has not just devoured you like the god’s nectar. Certainly, an idiot. Continuing the bold strokes with your hand, you made sure to meet his gaze before echoing the encouragement:

“For me,” a hint of recognition reflected at you, adding the mischievous tint to your smile, “Please,” grinning widely, you quickly put your mouth back to the task.

Intensifying every move to make sure he would be satisfied. It did not take long. Neil moaned out your name breathlessly before he tensed and came with a shudder ripping through his body. The hand cupping your cheek fell onto your shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh with the force of the release. Swallowing every drop of what he gave you with delight, you made sure to show him the extent of satisfaction in your gaze.

Once Neil was done, he leaned heavily on the tiled wall, quick breaths escaping through the parted mouth. Eyes still clouded yet watching you constantly with evident fascination. Licking your lips clean, you accepted the hand he reached out to pull you up. Resting your palm over his racing heart, you leaned in close to whisper:

“Every inch a gentleman, I see” an appreciative glance down, as if he could miss the innuendo.

His eyes flashed, the familiar darkness creeping at the edge of the blissful fatigue. To your advantage, there was still a moment left of this more subdued Neil. Afterwards? Who knows. The spark of excitement lit up in your chest as you closed the gap and took him by surprise with a heated kiss. Pushing him further up against the wall and taking the lead with your tongue instantly prodding him to open. The grip on your laced hands, tightening as Neil started reciprocating the kiss with an equal eagerness. As if you both have been starving for each other. There was never quite enough oxygen to fulfil needs, and so, after few long minutes interrupted with stolen breaths and fleeting pecks, you broke apart, staring at one another with awe. Neil’s eyes wandered over your face with almost dream-like enchantment written all over.

“Wow,” he breathed out the word with a small smile creeping on the edge of his lips.

It was difficult not to grin back, overwhelmed with love for the man. With your heart close to melting from the tenderness and softness, you chose to strike:

“Is that all the praise I’m going to receive?” quirked eyebrow and feigned dismay.

If only to push him where you needed him to be. Because as much as this gentle and affectionate side of your relationship was everything you could have asked for, currently, you needed more. More than this. Using the palm pressed firmly against his chest, you trailed your fingers south, watching with satisfaction at the tiniest of twitches, betraying the hidden desire, confirming the assumptions. As if slowly waking up from the daze, Neil caught your curious fingers in his and raised your hand to lay a kiss on your knuckles. The playful glimmer already there.

“I’m afraid you stole my breath away. Again” a shrug with an apologetic tint to the tone.

As a contradiction to the meekness acted out, he let go of your hand and wound his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Pressing your bodies against each other, every curve and edge fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. Like two halves of a whole. You glanced up at him, trying to judge the current mood, finding nothing but beauty. The wet hair, sticking to the forehead, water dripping down the slope of his nose and onto the bruised lower lip. Up this close, he looked as if he belonged in Michelangelo’s workshop, fine features chiselled with precision. Ocean blue eyes framed with long and dark eyelashes drawing you in, the longer you kept on staring. Mouth curled up in a soft smile as if even the sight of your lovesick gaze was something he wanted to commit to memory.

With a sight like that, there was only one thing you could do. Feeling the need pulse in your veins, you reached out to turn off the water. It was time to act. Neil looked at you questioningly as if willing to follow the tempo you were about to set. Biting down on your lip, you met his gaze with poise.

“Good. Because that was rather… enjoyable” lowering down your voice, you noticed how his eyes widened; using the tricks learned from Neil himself, your hand ventured down once again “I love how you taste. The way you shiver as I make you come apart” as your fingers danced along his length, he gasped, a shudder running through his body “Sculpted by the gods yet falling into pieces at my command” whispering out the punchline, you gently stroked him to elicit a groan.

A satisfying response. Feeling courage surge through your chest, you smirked, observing as he seemed to absorb your words slowly. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing with effort. The pupils widened, darkening the irises and bringing out the predatory flicker. Mission accomplished. Once again, his hand darted out, stopping your teasing with fingers encircling the wrist tightly.

“You’re asking for trouble,” the husky voice sending shivers down your spine.

You met his gaze, noticing the evident change. It was bound to get interesting. Once you tasted the power, it was hard to give it back. Stepping out of the embrace, you noticed:

“Am I? I thought we’re done here” without waiting for him, you made a move to exit the shower.

Knowing he would follow. You made it as far as grabbing the towel hanging on the hook and wrapping it over your body before his strong arms encircled around you from behind. Pulling you against his chest, just as it all began. Then, a whisper with lips brushing over your ear:

“We’re far from done” oh.

Good. You barely had time to react when Neil lifted you, bridal style, and opened the bathroom door with a kick. Bewildered, you looked at him with curiosity, relishing in the way he cradled you. Possessiveness and care making your head spin with the implications. However, you barely had the time to think of the right question when he stopped abruptly by the long desk lining one side of the room and set you down on the counter. Oh. Consciously adjusting the towel covering your body, you risked a glance at Neil. The blue eyes clouded with need; pupils dilated. The taxing gaze, sweeping over your figure like a predator measuring up the prey. Stunned into silence by the sudden tension, you mirrored his look and allowed yourself a self-indulgent stare, appreciating what the universe gave you in the form of your boyfriend. And his godly body, as you have more than once noticed. Finally, Neil took a step closer. You watched in fascination as his fingers danced along your collarbones and over the skin on your shoulders, taking additional time to brush the fingertips over the forming bruises on your neck. The distant look, telling you it was an open admiration of his work. A shiver ran up your spine, the anticipation of whatever might happen almost stifling.

“All that talk made me a little hungry” the remark made you look up, straight into the marvellous blue eyes.

Confirming the words, Neil slowly licked his lips, hand toying with the end of your towel tucked in to keep it fixed. With heart racing in your chest, you made sure to throw a suggestive glance at his body before asking:

“Only a little?” the dose of provocative tone to make sure he would be within your control.

Because the level of arousal on his side was startling. Impressive, too.Your mouth watered at the sight, thighs clenching tighter together to somehow ease the ache pulsing between your legs. At once, you wanted him to ditch the games and take you this moment, and to wait, to extend the fascinating duel of passion.

Neil gave you no time to consider which one was more tempting, for he used your moment of reverie to tug at the towel to unravel it in one move.

“A lot” the answer perfecting the move with precision.

Fuck. Next thing you knew, you were sat on the towel, naked once more with no way of hiding from him and his look of starvation. Neil closed the remaining gap, blocking your escape and caging you between his arms, palms resting on either side. One last long look as if judging the best course of action before he parted your knees by inserting a leg between your thighs. A hand delving in the newly opened space, drawing out a sigh from your lips as you stared in complete fascination, frozen with the thrill of curiosity and need running through your veins. The pulsating core dripping with desire for him, shame missing from the equation when Neil finally gave in to the pull and slipped a finger between your folds. You knew how bad it was from the single look at his face. The determination slipping for a split second to give way to surprise, a short gasp soon replaced with the smirk worthy of the Lucifer himself. The daring finger parting your inner lips in a teasing move before he raised the hand to his lips, never taking the gaze of you:

“You’re still soaking wet for me,” a remark thrown with something close to mockery.

A flash of anger burning in your chest; mouth opening to prepare a retort. Only to freeze once more when Neil grinned, the hand glistening with the signs of your disgrace licked clean, mirroring your brave actions from not that long ago. Double fuck. A groan, interrupting the train of thought, that spark of irritation helping you to gain back the momentum. A look down his body offering the needed cue:

“Says you” raising one eyebrow, you reached out to repeat the lazy strokes from before.

The deepening darkness in his eyes luring you in, tempting you to push him further than ever before. If only to find out what he is like without any restraints. Without care or apprehension. Only the animalistic lust and craving left. Noticing the familiar hungry glow, you increased the intensity of your moves, smile widening when he let out a frustrated growl and slapped your hands away. In a flash, Neil wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your bodies flush against each other.

“Careful, or I might-” his voice lowered to a whisper, the husky tone reverberating through your chest.

It was the unspoken threat and the way it felt when he pressed against your navel that made you take up the initiative. Leaning back enough to catch his eye, you interrupted the sentence:

“What?” a challenging smirk to irk him further; your legs wrapped around his waist “Destroy me. Fuck me senseless” completing the request by rubbing over him openly, showing the extent of need “Wrap that hand around my neck and take what’s yours” the addition breathed out with the scarlet tint on your cheeks.

Neil let out a whine as you pressed up against him, lacing your hands on the nape of his neck to get better leverage. He hesitated for a split second, hips already responding to your teasing with fleeting twitches. Somehow you knew what was missing. Leaning back, you tilted his chin to lock the gazes. Depths of lust enveloping your mirroring looks.

“Please,” the word dropped in between your lips, separated by a breath of space.

The trigger.

You could barely perceive his actions. The bottom lip caught between his teeth, a forceful thrust eliciting a sharp cry from your throat. Gentleness was left behind as he filled you up in one single move, stretching out your walls and making you gasp. Searching for something to hold on to, you grasped the edges of the desk, helpless gaze locked on his dark eyes without a break. Neil slightly shifted, one hand travelling up your chest to wrap loosely around your neck. Exactly as you asked. The other palm, pulling you closer around the waist, finding the needed grip. A shudder coursing through your body, the core clenching around him in the most basic of reflexes. An irked sigh escaping through your lips was all he needed to begin.

No kissing or hesitation, just the rough rhythm, delving deep into your centre with each thrust, hitting the perfect spot without tenderness. Each move complemented by your moan, pleasure flooding in, making you forget about everything that was not Neil. His gaze was fixed on you, watching with visible fascination how his tip disappeared between your folds with every thrust. The chokehold, tightening a little, increasing the frenzy, and hazing your mind with need. Only once you got used to the set tempo could you shift the position, placing your hands on his biceps. Digging in the nails to show how well that was working. Increasing the intensity of his moves, Neil groaned, his hand tightened over your neck. A clear signal to let you know who is in control. Obedience. Only, you were not that keen on compliance.

With sweat trailing down your body and your arousal wetting the conveniently placed towel, you decided to reach out for more. An assessing look, taking in Neil’s widened pupils and the startling resolve painted on his face. The clenched jaw, highlighting the sharp angles. Split lip from how he bit into it, drawing out blood. Unable to take your gaze off from his mouth, you used the second of hesitation to get closer and crash your lips into his in a hard kiss. Neil gasped, surprised by the shift, opening his mouth underneath your prodding tongue in an instant. Syncing up the way your lips glided over each other with his thrusts, you used the opportunity to gain back the lead. Meeting him halfway, relishing in the groans he let out against your mouth. And then, grabbing a fistful of his blonde locks, still damp from the shower, and leaning in to whisper into his ear:

“Harder,” the word dropped with certainty.

A further act of temptation. To see what Neil would be capable of if you drove him to the edge.

You did not have to wait long to find out. Tightening the chokehold, he sped up the movements, delving into you with a force that was ripping cries from your lips. The lascivious sounds filled the room, moans, and gasps interrupting the tempo. Soon it was nothing but the eruption of pleasure every time he hit the spot, making you rake your fingernails over his shoulder blades, deepening the marks and bruises. Using the grip you had over his shoulders, you changed the angle, bringing your pelvises together with every thrust. That seemed to be what Neil needed. He groaned, hand shifting from its position on your neck to grasp your chin and force you to lock the gazes. The feral look in his eyes, making you clench your muscles around him, giving in to the waves of feelings coursing through your body. It was that perfect balance between tempting darkness and astonishing want that you found reflected that was the final push you both needed.

Neil’s tempo waned, shuddered breaths coming out through the parted lips, watching you closely as if the ecstasy written all over your face was a drug he could not get enough of. A string of curses replacing the silence with their harsh simplicity. The grip over your waist tightening, fingers digging into your skin, bruises confirming the facts. His. Just as he tensed, moaning your name with the desperate tint to the tone, you captured his lips in a kiss. Hoping to take the edge off, to give him what he needs. Neil responded by biting hard into your lower lip, pleasure exploding before your closed eyes as he came, a shudder running through his body. Cradling you closer, breaking through the roughness and betraying the underlying feelings. Love, want, need.

It was the sensation of having him come inside you and the harsh kiss that did it. You whimpered, his name and love confessions on the tip of your tongue, spilling out in the silence. Hiding face in his neck, you stiffened, the force of the orgasm ripping through the fracture of reality. Nothing but the overwhelming euphoria, darkness underneath your eyelids dotted with stars. Neil’s skin underneath the shaking hands. His warmth enveloping you in the gilded cage of safety. Completeness. As you came to, riding out the high with your face pressed against the crook of his neck, you heard his soothing voice whispering sweet nothings, nuzzling your head. The tender ‘I got you’ and ‘I love you’ filling the quiet moment with reminders about your perfect reality. With a sigh, you slowly unravelled from the embrace; arms still wound around his body to prolong the touch. As your gazes met, the previous darkness was nowhere to be found, replaced with a soft smile and affection pouring out of his blue eyes. Cupping your cheek, Neil whispered the question:

“Alright?” he searched your face as though worried something could be amiss.

Fighting with the breathlessness, you chose to give him a grin first before responding:

“Yeah,” trailing your fingers down his chest, relishing in the peaceful moment, “Christ… You should fuck me like this more often,” the straightforwardness getting out without a hitch.

After what just happened, it was no big surprise. Neil did not seem shocked either his eyes glimmered playfully, as he traced the outline of your lips with the tip of his finger:

“Your wish is my command, darling,” the low murmur complimented with hand tilting your chin upwards to capture your lips in a kiss.

A slow and gentle one, softening the bruises and cuts, eliciting a contented sigh from your throat. Afterwards, you rested your forehead against his for a split second, soaking in the feelings. After a beat, you finally leaned back, acknowledging the mess on the hotel room floor covered with your clothes. The bathroom door was left ajar with the ventilation running. The towel you sat on, ruined. Wet hair trailing droplets down your naked body, mixing with the layer of sweat. A frown invited itself onto your face.

“I need another shower though… and a nap” yawning, you pushed Neil back to jump off the desk.

Only once you could properly stand, the fatigue caught up, making you sway on your feet. Without a word, Neil reached out a hand to steady you, pulling you into his side for an additional hug. Nothing to complain about even if you wanted.

“I should get you hot and bothered more often” it was the casual remark that made you look up.

Straight into the suspiciously satisfied face of your boyfriend. Surely not… right?

“… was that the plan all along?” schooling your features, you chose to ask the simplest of questions.

Neil shrugged, the trademark smirk gracing his features.

Bastard. Stepping away from him, you snatched the towel and hastily wrapped it around your body. If only as a retaliation. Because dragging you out to wander in the bloody scorching sun was a low blow. …even if it just gave you one of the best sex experiences in your life. Maybe. Perhaps.

“I hate you,” you hissed before storming over the pile of clothes to the bathroom.

“Uh-huh,” you refused to give him the pleasure of turning around at the sound.

Bastard. Squared.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson

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metalbuckaroo · 3 years ago

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Birthday

Summary: Toby invites Bucky to his 11th birthday party.

Warnings: good bit of sexual tension, rude ass parent, cursing, I think that's it???

AU: Babysitter!Bucky x Fem!Reader

AN: I waited soo long to finish this that I couldn't remember exactly what I'd planned for it, so I winged half of it.

THE FILL IN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @bucksdolll

"Toby seems to be warming up to the temporary pretty well." One of the Moms whispered to yours. "Bucky? He's a sweetheart. Isn't he, dear?"

You looked away from where Bucky was being swarmed by the younger kids and a couple of their older sisters you'd went to high school with; your mom giving you a sweet smile. "A big softie."

"He's great with Toby, and is sweet on a little miss someone." She grinned, poking your side as you got two bottles of water from the cooler. "Well, aren't you lucky." One of the other mom's chided. "Extremely."

"Go save him, poor boy looks like he's ready to combust." Your mom sighed, fixing a few things on the table that held cake and various types of snacks.

Turning on your heels, you went to where he was stood letting Toby babble on about his arm. "Can I borrow you for a sec?"

Bucky gave a bright smile and nodded, letting you guide him to the open back door. "I think he's have a good time showing off his super cool babysitter." You teased, handing him some extra drinks for the cooler. "Does he ever run out of energy?"

Shaking your head, you looked over the way the dark blue t-shirt clung to his skin, the dips of his muscular torso visible even through the wet fabric. "You're not gonna take that off are ya." You said, tugging the hem.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "Nothing wrong with being a little modest, Buck." You smiled, noticing how he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Don't wanna, uh, scare a bunch of kids."

"Or have their dads chasing you down because, the wives are gawking at you." You said, scrunching your nose up at him. He breathed a laugh and shook his head again, leaning down to peck a simple kiss to your lips. "Yeah. I don't think that's gonna happen."

After presents were opened and cake was ate, you and Bucky hid away in the kitchen again for a few moments away from the crowd of kids and parents. "You look beautiful, sunshine." He said, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. "Don't look too bad yourself, Buck."

Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his dog tags, tugging them so he'd lean down; his lips ghosting across yours when he turned his head to the opening back door.

"James! There you are." Your mom breathed, pulling the door shut behind her. "Mallory just extended her vacation for another 3 weeks. Please, tell me you're available?" She clasped her hands together and gave him pleading eyes.

"Yeah, of course." Bucky smiled, nodding his head. "Great, perfect. A few of Toby's friends are staying, so I hope they don't bother you too much." She said, looking to you.

"I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind staying to help, right?" You looked up at him, patting his chest lightly. His eyebrows raised and he nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'll stay."

"Miranda, I've been looking for you." Darlene, one of the most judgemental moms, said, Toby and her son following in behind her. "I've been meaning to ask you- where's Matthew? Shouldn't he be here instead of-" She stopped when she saw Bucky, still standing very close to you.

"He had work." Your mom said with a forced smile. "No wonder it didn't work out, that's all he thinks about." Darlene said clicking her tongue. "Now, you're stuck having to pay a babysitter who-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there. Toby, go play outside." Bucky looked down at your hard expression, putting his hand on Toby's shoulder to walk with him into the backyard. "That's not an appropriate thing to talk about at a kid's birthday party. He is eleven, he doesn't need to know why his dad didn't show up."

"It's just- this new babysitter of yours is so-"

"Sweet? Shy, handsome, good with kids? If none of those are what you are about to say, then don't say it." She looked at you dumbfounded, glancing at your mom. "You're not gonna let her talk like this are you?"

Your mom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She's grown. I don't dictate what she says. Besides, she's right."

"Unbelievable."

As the families dispersed, going home once the sun started to set, your mom looking exhausted as she cleaned the kitchen. "I've got it, go on to bed. You've had your stress fill for the day."

She gave you a soft thank you before shuffling away to the hallway, Bucky walking in from the chaos filled living room. "Make it out alive?" You teased, picking up the trash that littered the counter. "Barely. Need help?"

His hand rested on the small of your back, pink tinting his cheeks. "You could move the couch for me? Put this to use." You teased, fingertips running up the dark metal of his left arm before wrapping around his wrist.

You finished cleaning the kitchen and went to check on the state of the living room; Bucky laying out the blankets and pillows on the floor for the kids.

"Can we watch Nightmare on Elm Street?" Toby asked, looking up at you with hopeful eyes as you picked up the remote. "No, it's too scary for you." You said, clicking through the movie selections. "Please?"

Bucky chuckled when you rolled your eyes and nodded. "One scream out of any of you and I'm switching it to lullabies."

It didn't take long.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie you were switching it to Toy Story, ignoring the protests that sounded from them.

Another 30 minutes and they were all passed out, sprawled out on the blankets and snoring as you tugged Bucky with you to the kitchen.

"Knew that was gonna happen." You said, breathing a laugh and lifting yourself onto the counter.

Bucky moved to stand in front of you, your knees parting on instinct to let him stand between them. "Steve said he'll have your car done in a couple days. Want me to take you back to your apartment tomorrow? So, you don't have to take the train."

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely; pulling his lips to yours. You all but melted completely in his touch, cool, smooth metal on your right thigh a beautiful contrast to the warm skin on your left.

"I'm so fucking lucky..." He muttered against your lips before pressing his tongue against yours.

"Ew, stop eating my sisters face." You breathed a laugh at Toby's tired voice, looking over your shoulder at him. "Whst are you doing up?" You teased, turning slightly to see him better. "You know I don't like to admit when you're right..."

You were getting restless. Wanting more every time you'd get near Bucky; more of the sweetness of his kiss and gentle, adoring touches.

But hwahented things taken slow. Which you fully understood; and with the group of kids in the front room, it wasn't going to go far anyways.

"Scared?" He nodded softly and you slid off of the counter. "Calm that down and come watch some tv." You smiled at Bucky, gesturing to the strain against his athletic shorts.

Bucky's face burned as he watched you usher Toby back into the living room, staying back for a moment before following.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Toby said, pointing a finger at Bucky that made him look to where you were holding the boy's hand from your spot, laid on the loveseat. "You're about as threatening as the neighbors ankle biter." Bucky retorted, sitting in the recliner.

You had turned some random TV show on, suddenly becoming extra quiet within an hour.

Bucky glanced from the screen to see you sleeping peacefully, Toby's hand barely hanging onto yours as Bucky stepped over one of the kids to grab the blanket from the back of the loveseat.

Gently laying it over you, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek; biting back a smile when you subconsciously tilted your head to follow his lips.

There's always tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #babysitter!bucky fluff #babysitter!bucky

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mattsvn · 3 years ago

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CHANCE BALL LOVE!

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Meet ugly! strangers to lovers! Getting hit in the head with a volleyball!

Warnings: Blood, head injury, concussion, did I mention getting hit in the head with a volleyball? Food hehe, that's all.

WC: 2.4K

Summary: After being hit with a volleyball by the ace and U19 athlete, Ushijima Wakatoshi, you find yourself laying in the nurse's office, with a bag of ice on your head and a boy apologizing every two minutes for that terrible accident. As the times goes by, you realize that not only you were hit by a ball, but by destiny, and more important, love.

A/N: I'm so excited for this piece! This is a collab for HQHQ (now Anilysium!) The masterlist is here! I hope you like this piece! Reblogs are appreciated!

Life is made up of 90% causality and 10% coincidence.

That was what your mother used to say, with her hands covered with flour up to her elbows, while she prepared one of those delicious desserts. Possibly as a result of all her years perfecting her technique as a pastry chef, but, as in that, she considered that everything had to be planned, measured, and calculated.

On the other hand, your father was always talking about how fate made everything line up perfectly for things in his life to come in abundance, he would happily tell about the coincidences in his life, although the answer was always the same, a debate between the two of them as to what was the truth.

A skeptical pastry chef and a dreamy lawyer, a match made in heaven.

Whatever it had been, causality or causality, you never thought a hit of luck would be so...literal.

It was unusual for you to be in Shiratorizawa's volleyball gymnasium, if you had managed to get into such a prestigious high school it was because of the impeccable grades you always had, sports were not a priority.

You weren't afraid of balls, but, the way everyone was spiking the ball was about to cause you a headache, especially Ushijima Wakatoshi, the school's ace, one of the best athletes in the country.

"Why are we here, again?" you asked, your gaze wandering between the various players and the sound of balls hitting everywhere making the conversation feel distorted.

"Because they" one pointed out, to the rest of the girls looking around the court excitedly "want to see Semi Eita, the pretty boy with the grey hair" she gestured to the boy in the corner, slamming the ball to the ground unaware that they were watching.

"Ah" you replied, somewhat bored, grabbing your backpack and standing up. "Good luck with that, I have to get home early" you said, waving goodbye to everyone.

To leave, or at least, to do it in a faster way, the door that led out of the building, and through which you had to go through the court, was the best option, as it took longer to take the way inside the corridors. The only option as you made your way down the bleachers.

The only thing you heard, with your eyes glued to the ground, trying to go completely unnoticed was a "WATCH OUT!" that made you look up before you saw nothing but darkness.

"I don't know, Wakatoshi-kun, looks like you did kill her" a voice was heard in the distance, the light irritating your eyes if you tried to open them. Still, only because of your stubbornness, you tried to get up without anyone else's help.

"I don't think it's best if you stand up now" you heard a deeper voice, but you didn't know exactly where it was coming from.

"I'm fine" you whispered, placing a hand on where you assumed you had been hit with the volleyball, feeling a warm liquid staining it. It wasn't possible that a spike had cracked your forehead open, right?

Right?

"I'm fine, I have to go" as you stood up, opening your eyes, everything was spinning. An arm went around your shoulders, stopping you from falling back to the ground, firm, but at the same time gentle.

"You need to go to the infirmary, you're bleeding" the voice now seemed to be closer, a little more stable, but, no way did you feel you could even move without throwing up or passing out again, what the fuck had that hit been? Could someone hit someone that hard just with a serve?

The answer was yes, and the name, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You barely felt it when, just like that, he lifted you off the ground, although it seemed that your body felt it. A piece of something, probably cloth or gauze stopped the bleeding. You kept repeating that at least they let you walk, that you were okay, even though, clearly, you had the symptoms of a concussion.

"Are you all right, can you tell me where you are?" questioned Ushijima, entering a room. You had finally managed to open your eyes and recover from the dizziness.

"I'm fine, we're at the high school" you whispered, looking at Ushijima for the first time.

Even if you had gone to games before, you had never seen that look on Wakatoshi's face, a mixture of fear and worry, accompanied by his pale face and a barely noticeable bloodstain on his shirt.

"You can wait outside, dear boy," said the nurse, slightly terrified by what had happened.

A couple of hours passed before they managed to let you go, after calling your parents and making sure you didn't leave the building unless you were accompanied. You didn't need stitches, and that was a huge plus, but still, you left the infirmary with a gauze pad on your forehead, some candy, and a chance to take the rest of the week off to rest, which wasn't such a bad outcome.

You closed the door behind you, looking sideways at Wakatoshi on the floor, who got up almost immediately, still looking scared, even his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the patch on your forehead, which reminded him of the fact that he had accidentally hit you with a volleyball while practicing his serves.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking disheveled, and as if he had done nothing more than wait in the hallway until everything was in order.

"Oh, don't worry, Ushijima-san, I'm fine" you assured, but it didn't seem to be enough for him.

"I'm so sorry, let me take you home to be sure you arrive safely" he asked, with his hands behind his back and his head slightly bent down, like a child discovered stealing the candy from the counter.

"My parents are here to take me home, don't worry" you assured, glancing sideways at the door, somewhat far away. "You can walk me to the car, if you like."

"Of course" he nodded, walking beside you. Up close he looked even taller than he was, his expression calm and his gaze fixed straight ahead, though, he seemed to have a doubt that would leave his lips at any moment "Would you allow me to walk you to school tomorrow?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, somehow, the sound of just both of your footsteps in the hallway was comforting, soothing. It wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable. Ushijma didn't believe in awkward silences, because to him actions said more than words, and, that a question shouldn't be answered right away. So, the way to the entrance was nothing more than waiting for an honest, and safe, answer.

"I got permission to miss classes for the rest of the week, in case the concussion gets complicated, because I have to rest" you began, letting again the calm silence take center stage for a couple of seconds. "Then I won't be back until Monday, but maybe you can come for dinner tomorrow?"

"If you accept that as my apology for hurting you, then by all means" he took the door, allowing you to leave before him, there was still a bit of a walk to the main entrance. "Although, I would like to cook"

"Oh, I didn't know you cooked," you smiled, looking up at him. Ushijima looked down, and, you could swear he was smiling too. "If that's what you prefer, I'd love to."

The rest of the walk was quiet, and calm. Ushijima said goodbye to you after introducing himself to your parents, and apologizing again. In the rearview mirror you saw him standing there, waiting until he didn't see the car to go home.

He was really worried, and it would probably take him a few days to stop being scared about what had just happened. He was even willing to be scolded by the coach for missing two days of practice, just to make sure everything was in order.

Likewise, even if it would be a whole day before you saw Ushijima, he decided to call you just before he went to bed. And at lunchtime, because doing it earlier would surely have woken you up. He didn't talk too much, he let you talk about how annoying the doctors at the hospital had been when you went to check that everything was okay, and all the boring time you spent there.

He called back as soon as he got out of school, to make sure the details of the dinner were ready, he would bring the food, and some dessert, and, you would bring the drinks. You had to convince him though, otherwise he would have bought everything, he would have even brought plates and silverware from his own house.

Wakatoshi took the job of bringing the food seriously, as much as he could buy anything on the way home, he decided to make something himself. The menu was simple, yakisoba, yukari rice balls with an egg on top of each dish. As for dessert, he decided not to risk it, and preferred to buy those box cakes that had been quite popular lately, and, some condensed milk truffles that Tendou gave him as a gift as, he assured, you would love them.

Your parents could be quite reluctant to invite a boy to the house, but, after proposing the idea that you could clean up the picnic table you had in the backyard, where there was a space convenient enough for them to peek in just a little to feel safe, they agreed almost immediately.

During the afternoon, the question you wanted to ignore came out of nowhere, could that be considered a date, and should you dress for the occasion? It didn't seem like anything would match a forehead injury, or that anything would hide it. The result ended up being something you would wear if you were going out with friends, simple, and appropriate for the sunny day out.

Ushijima arrived exactly at the appointed time, and, reluctantly from your parents, you opened the door without them intruding. Looking at him, you failed to understand the nervous feeling that traveled from your heart to the tips of your fingers, making them tremble. Standing with a bag in his left hand, his hair slightly tousled and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Yet another gesture of apology, right?

"Hi, I brought some flowers" he pointed out, extending them. Your hand gently brushing his as you took them, white roses with green accents that made the bouquet look incredibly elegant.

"I already told you that you didn't have to keep apologizing, Ushijima" you mentioned, taking the flowers. "We'll eat outside then you don't need to take off your shoes, but let me go get a vase."

"You look good today" he spoke out of nowhere, making you look at him even though you were already halfway down the aisle. "You look good in those clothes" he seemed to be trying to smile, but you weren't sure. You smiled anyway, grateful for the compliment.

You returned with the bouquet, which would now serve as a decoration for the picnic. You could feel the intense gaze of your parents even if they tried to hide when they peeked, or, according to them, "watched" that everything was in order.

"Are you feeling better then?" he asked, looking at how simply decorated the picnic table was but somehow looked incredibly cozy, with perfect tree shade.

As was now usual, Wakatoshi didn't talk more than usual, at least not at first, he wanted to hear about how you were feeling, and how many days you would be out of school, although you assured him that you would be back to your activities by next Monday, and that, your friends would take care of sending you the homework you needed. Then the questions about him began.

You learned a lot, how he learned to play volleyball at a young age, his interest in cooking but his almost zero ability to make desserts. My mother could make some, you laughed, drinking some cranberry juice in a wine glass, your father's idea. He told you about his new interest in plants, and his father's work out of the country. Even some good anecdotes about the volleyball team.

Dessert was something completely different, by that time, she started to excitedly explain his last game, and what it was like to be in the Olympics. Although it wasn't as noticeable, you could tell in the way his lips curved into a slight smile as he tried to find the right words to define how he felt.

Reluctantly, and after offering to do the dishes, you said no, keeping the bento boxes with the promise that you would bring lunch on Monday for both of you, and now a wide smile on his face, even when he had to go home.

The following Monday came terribly slow, with the only thing that made it better being that Ushijima had not stopped her constant calls, the day possibly delayed by dark clouds heralding torrential rain.

"You don't have to keep apologizing anymore, look, even the wound has healed" you said, to Ushijima who was standing at the entrance, now with a box of the truffles you had liked so much, and which he had now made.

"I know. But I'd really like to walk with you at school" he smiled. "If you'll let me.

"I'd love to."

Life is made up of 80% causality and 20% chance, and, although you wouldn't want to repeat the literal hit of luck you received, you hadn't wanted it any other way.

Going to the gym because your friends wanted to see a cute boy on the volleyball team, having to leave early because you had things to do at home, leaving through the door you had to walk through on the court, getting hit in the head with a volleyball, only to end up walking to school with him, fingers barely brushing, a tender kiss on the cheek before he left.

Eating now inside the house, holding hands, a kiss on the corner of the lips. Waiting in the bleachers for practice to end, a number one jacket covering you from the rain.

The worst way to get to know each other, and, somehow, it seemed you were made for one another.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi icons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you #hqhq server collab #hqhq server collab meet ugly

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beautifulpersonpeach · 2 years ago

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Ask on Lizzo and Supporting Problematic Faves (Repost)

Anonymous: Hello BPP!!! I saw an ask mentioning Big Bang and you also commented in one of your asks that you don't care about Lizzo being problematic. I'm curious what you think about "separating art from the artist"?

I'm still in the fence on it, as I'm quick to drop artists when they do something questionable and I usually lose any enjoyment I have for their music. But as an Army, I feel like I'm hypocritical because I'm aware that the boys aren't entirely clean either, mistakes were made, stuff happened, but I still thoroughly enjoy their music too. I guess what I'm asking is, where do we draw the line?

Because even thinking of possibly monetarily supporting an artist like Chris Brown makes me recoil, idols who have had bullying scandals also make me eek because who knows if they've really changed? Sometimes I wonder if BTS is as good hearted (in a reasonable, human, way) as we think they are, but since we have plenty of evidence that they are, I want to believe in good faith that it's true. Worrying about it would drive me crazy but my brain can't help it, haha!

Hi Anon,

First of all, I think there’s a fair amount of false equivalences going on here and honestly, in a lot of discourse around certain artists. It would never occur to me to place BigBang’s Seungri who was convicted for what are basically sex crimes, and Chris Brown who was convicted for domestic violence and assault, in the same sentence within any context with Lizzo who appropriated Asian culture in a photoshoot where the entire direction of that set was by LaChappelle who himself came under little to no fire, and the well known music magazine it was in, Rolling Stone, was also unscathed.

In my opinion it shows an absolutist mindset seen in hyper-religious people who believe all sin is equally bad. When of course, I think that’s nonsense.

So I guess, I’m not the sort of person to stop being interested in an artist the minute I see something I don’t like because I never approach artists expecting perfection. They’re real human beings with all the vices and virtues available to them. And I’ve said this about BTS in several places on my blog. There’s no hard and fast rule as we’re all different and can tolerate different things. Usually, for me, criminal actions are a hard pass. Nothing BTS has been accused of, even in theory or in rumors, comes even close to any of that, obviously.

There are several idols already toeing that line though, but BTS isn’t one of them, at least so far. And by the way, I honestly don’t believe those people who claim to be blindsided when unsavory/criminal news comes out about their idols because in almost every case it should’ve been plausible because of how those idols behaved. BTS is a bit different from most other k-pop idols or groups for a few reasons. The first is that (at least before COVID), they were always being filmed or moving between locations for touring. They’d be recording material for their new albums while on tour and were at some point functioning on less than 3 hours of sleep because of how busy they were. And were almost always together. Like k-pop stans used to make fun of BTS for always being together, saying that they had no life outside of BTS. It was unlikely to even catch them in compromising situations, so nobody was surprised that it was during their first ever long vacation in summer 2019, that we got ‘scandals’ for the first time from the group.

Another reason is the consistency of reports from people who work with them for the first time, those who have worked with them for years, people who are their peers and competitors, people of all races who have consistently vouched for how the boys behave in their personal dealings with them. It will be weird AF if a bullying scandal comes out for Jimin for example who even before BTS blew up, had almost every report from his old school comment positively on his character. There’s already a track record with BTS that has been corroborated from everyone from random fans and non-fans to even their own competitors. Of course it’s always possible we learn tomorrow that Taehyung is a pimp and Namjoon is a drug dealer. If that happens, I’ll rethink what I know of them now.

Something to always remember with BTS is that they are men, born and raised in a hierarchal, homophobic and patriarchal society. Over the course of their career I’ve noticed some of the members’ behaviors and professed beliefs become more progressive, but we never really know what they’re like. All that said, so far, there’s been no need to separate artist from art for me, in the case of BTS.

You’ll draw your line at a place that makes sense to you, and I’ll draw mine in a place that makes sense to me, which for now hovers somewhere around physical violence and/or criminal activities.

Originally posted: March 25th, 2022 12:22pm

#bts #fandom behavior #problematic faves #repost #lizzo #bangtan #fandom behaviour #kpop #kpop music

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omnivorousshipper · 2 years ago

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Hey omni can you do one where Luke and Deckard turn into babies.

Hi friend! Sure! I do love de aged fics, which I actually did a HUGE one for Deckard over on AO3. It was my own personal challenge to write a chap a day

~~~

Owen stared. And continued to stare.

"What the bloody fuck do we do?!" Hattie hissed into his ear.

"How should I know?" Owen huffed.

"I don't know! Because you're the one who actually likes kids?!"

"Deck is the one who likes them, I tolerate them." Owen corrected. Sure, he always dreamed of being an uncle but he didn't want children. Or to really take care of them.

"Should we call up that bloke Deck hangs out with? Tortellini or something?"

"Toretto. And yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

"What do we do in the mean time?"

"I guess we actually get them some age appropriate toys."

At their feet were two toddlers. One had longer, wild hair too short to be put into a proper bun. He was gurgling happily as he hugged a pillow to his chest and stared at the other toddler in fascination. His little cheeks were rosy as drool went down his chin.

Meanwhile, the other toddler was banging an empty food container on the floor with a determined look on his face. His hair was short and curly, while he looked much bigger than the other toddler.

Which wasn't surprising since Hobbs was a few months older than Deckard, who always had late growth spirts.

So far, the two toddlers had been inseparable. From cuddling to holding hands, and even going as far as to scream when apart. Owen had simply let them be and allow them to be attached by the hip.

"How did Deckard do it? He raised us, so handling two kids at once shouldn't be too hard, right?" Hattie asked optimistically. Owen didn't have the heart to tell her that Deckard was far more competent than they would be raising children.

---

"No! Luke!" Deckard screamed as Owen scooped the other toddler out of the car seat. Hobbs for his part was wiggling and squirming like crazy. Owen only hoped the little bugger didn't bit him.

"Deck, you're fine! We're just getting you out of the car!" Hattie hissed at the little boy, who was acting the same in her arms.

As soon as the twins met outside the car, they both calmed down immediately. Owen swore he was ten years older after all of that. He couldn't wait to hand the two off to Toretto and his crew.

"And who's that I hear!" A chipper voice sang out and Owen couldn't help but wince as he saw Mia Toretto coming out of the house.

Once they called up Toretto, Owen knew the whole crew would be there to greet them, but that didn't mean he was excited about it.

"Hey." Owen said lamely as she walked up to them. While she had a smile on her face for the kids, her eyes were throwing daggers straight into his head.

"We were wondering when you'd show up." She spoke through a tight smile. "We've got everything set up for these two."

The last part was said to Deckard, who hid his face shyly into Owen's chest. But by the smile on his face, Owen knew he'd bond with Mia in a matter of minutes

"Deck!" Hobbs said loudly, with a protective look on his face.

Mia glanced between the two and Hattie explained.

"They've been attached to each other ever since they got turned. They throw a fit every time they get separated."

"I'll make sure to move their cribs together then." Mia nodded. "How long are they going to be like this?"

"If our info is right, only two days." Owen told her.

"Well, we'll make sure they have the best two days any toddler could ask for." She cooed at the toddlers and Deckard sent her a gummy smile. But, as she turned back to Owen, her face was like stone. "And after that, I'm going to kick your ass."

Owen merely nodded as Mia took Deckard from his hands and made sure to stay in step with Hattie so Deckard and Hobbs could stay in each other's line of sight.

Shaking his head, Owen was tempted to simply leave. But, then he'd miss out on taking all of the most embarrassing pictures of Deckard and Hobbs.

#shobbs #deckard shaw #hobbs and shaw #luke hobbs #owen shaw #hattie shaw #mai Toretto #mia toretto #de aged #omni writes

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years ago

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Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years ago

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Tumblr is starting to VERY MUCH dislike how long the other reblog chain is getting, so this will be Reblog Chain 2 of my jotting down notes of this fic. Here is the first reblog chain for Chapters 1-20

But it appears as though I was correct in sleeping off Chapter 20, because Chapter 21 is. Hm. bad. Very. Not good.

Chapter 21:

Transcript under the cut:

Chapter 21: It's Called Scars so it Gonna Be Ass

- To be blunt, the constant need to reaffirm that yes, Edelgard went through terrible experimentation and that yes, they were very horrific, is tiring. This is chapter 21. The experiments occurred in chapter 2. Every single chapter between now and then have, at some point, mentioned that INDEED, Edelgard DID in fact go through horrific trauma. It is tiring to the reader to constantly have to reread the same thing - we know it happened. We know it was terrible. There's no need to constantly say so; we already understand as readers.

- "Every time the spark of life broke through Byleth’s blank face, it brought a flickering hope to the Flame Emperor’s heart." ->

- Firstly: Awkward use of the Flame Emperor epithet (its usage is on and off with how appropriate its been - this is off).

- Secondly: Once again, Byleth's face was rarely if ever blank. She was never the Ashen Demon, as even the last chapter showcased. The author is mistaking reservation with emotionlessness, which is simply wrong

- "There had been so many empty days and nights, without friendship, love or joy. With nothing to hope for, except someday, the peace of the grave." -> Suicidal tendencies: another trait that Edelgard doesn't have... (strikes against canon: 89)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 12

- "Dimitri, too, was troubled by the thought, grasping the side of his head and frowning. As the spasm passed, he turned to Edelgard and smiled warmly." -> It seems a little callous to so casually toss Dimitri's symptoms into his interactions with others when such things simply don't occur in the canon interactions. It's not impossible, or strictly against canon, but it does not feel natural; it's more as though the author is shining bright neon signs that say DIMITRI HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES than a genuine attempt at writing Dimitri's mental health issues. This is not the first time this sort of seemingly thoughtless showcasing of symptoms has happened (Noted separately: Dimitri having drastic mood swings)

- "No, this world must be ruled by humans…not cruel gods who ignored the prayers of little girls." -> This statement follows Edelgard internally chastising the actions of not gods, but the Children of the Goddess. This is a weaselly attempt at dodging Edelgard's racist beliefs that Nabateans should not be allowed positions of power by shifting the belief to apply to miscellaneous gods instead. While not inaccurate per se - she does also canonically believe that gods should have no power in human affairs - it is not honest

- "Byleth nodded with childlike simplicity. “We should all try to get along.”" -> Again describing Byleth as childlike and/or innocent. Counter: 3

- For those curious: yes, the rat scene is implemented, yes it is sloppy, yes it is out of character for Claude - so much so that it is being noted separately - and yes it is forced to all hell

- What will be noted here, however, is that this is yet another instance of a man being demeaned/humiliated for the honor of a woman. See quote: "Byleth was on him in an instant, a tempest forming in the sea of her blue eyes. “That isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms sternly. “Jokes are about bringing people together...about making them smile. Right now, the only person laughing is you.”" with Claude reacting awkwardly. Once again, Man Bad Woman Good

- In a showcasing of a complete lack of self-awareness within the fic: "“Maybe if you’d have taught the Deer instead…but since you seem to have no ambitions outside of cleaning up Edelgard’s messes…”" -> This is Claude being portrayed as the bad guy, not the one being completely and utterly right

- " She slapped Edelgard on the back, and smiled heartily. “I agree, Dimitri!” Edelgard grimaced, trying to hide the fact her teacher had just struck the wound she had received during the mock battle." -> As well as where undoubtedly countless scars would be, yes? Scars that still cause Edelgard pain? In fact, Edelgard has been slapped on the back by Byleth and Jeralt numerous times before, and yet expresses no pain or discomfort.

- Another thing, that I had not noted though ought to have: Edelgard, a victim of sexual assault (in this fic), rarely seems to mind people touching her. She gets a little surprised if someone tries to get her attention with touch, yes, but Byleth's constant unprompted and random touching of Edelgard is never said to do anything but bring warmth and joy and comfort to Edelgard. It seems as though Edelgard suffering through sexual assault is just another source of trauma for the author to dump onto her for nothing more than pity points

- This is incredibly harsh to say, yes, and I would usually refrain from attributing such harshness onto a piece of text, but remember that Edelgard's scars only cause her pain when it's convenient, that she only experiences headaches when it's convenient, that she experiences PTSD episodes (when Claude mentions the rat) when it's convenient (note that in this fic he does it outside of battle, where her getting triggered wouldn't compromise her chances at victory). Edelgard not being touch averse and being a victim of sexual assault are not inherently something bad - survivors react to trauma differently, after all - but it is another in a steadily longer line of instances where Edelgard is simply given trauma for the sake of making her pitiable to the reader and the love interest, not something that Edelgard genuinely has to struggle with.

- "As Claude and Dimitri looked at their classmate expectantly, Edelgard was wracked with another bout of guilt. Deep in her soul, the princess knew these peaceful days would end soon. When that happened, no feast or vows of friendship could make up for the chaos and horror she would unleash. It would be better to pull away, close off her heart, rather than fuel the flames of her inevitable betrayal." -> Aka, "Feel bad for me, I feel guilty for planning to cause the death and ruination of countless innocents' lives all because I convinced myself that my way is the only way to get things done my way without ever actually trying to see if more peaceful ways could have worked. I'm going to orphan children, force families to fight each other, have the land be rampaged by banditry, and overall bring chaos onto these days that I ADMIT ARE PEACEFUL all because I feel that my way would be better. Wah wah pity me but I don't wanna be pitied I promise wah wah."

- "Byleth shrugged with a characteristic blend of innocence and spirit. “I guess I just like winning.” She began to blush and grabbed Edelgard’s hand. "It's so exciting! I’ve never had anyone other than Papa to celebrate with before!”" -> Byleth = innocent/childlike. Counter: 4

- The fic likes to reaffirm again and again that Byleth is "now" only acting like this due to Edelgard's presence in her life. Note also these statements written previously: "Every day, [Edelgard] was watching the person she loved grow and change. Become who she always was supposed to be." This, perhaps unintentionally, again enforces the "Lesbian Love is Pure and Innocent" trope; these wlw are only allowed to be their good girl, innocent selves - who they were always supposed to be - due to the pure lesbian love they have found with one another

- Count Bergliez didn't know of the experiments initially, but he eventually found out and did nothing to stop them, fleeing from a young and tortured El who was pleading for him to save her - Unnecessarily painting Count Bergliez as a spineless coward too afraid of Duke Aegir to save a child in pain

- Once again, a man fails to save a woman and further traumatizes her

- It should be noted that Bergliez is fearful not for his own life, but for that of his children, who were the ones Duke Aegir threatened. He, very similar to Ionius, cannot save Edelgard, except Bergliez (unlike Ionius) has a tangible, physical, explainable reason as to why he couldn't, and yet it is him who is painted as the bad guy, not Ionius. He is worthy of Edelgard's scorn and hatred, but Ionius only receives a begrudging feeling of betrayal from Edelgard that she feels guilty for harboring, even though he failed her far more than Bergliez failed her.

- "Daughters must always be loyal to their fathers" trope

- "No decent person thought the things Edelgard did. Just as her body had been twisted and shattered by the experiments, her mind bore terrible scars. Scars that the monster kept hidden, so she could walk in the world of men." -> Dehumanizing oneself as a monster as well as having violent thoughts (that specifically stem from trauma) one feels guilty for harboring are not traits Edelgard shows in canon... (strikes against canon, 90, 91)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 13, 14

- "world of men?" Did the author perhaps mean "world of man," as in mankind? Keep note of

- The reason as to why Bergliez is said to have witnessed young El's tortured state and did nothing to help her is revealed: in canon, he dislikes her. It is blatantly and objectively said that he and Edelgard share a mutual displeasure in the other's company. What this fic had him do will be used as an excuse as to why he doesn't hate her, since no one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Edelgard, upon being asked if revenge is the reason she is doing what she's doing (reuniting Fodlan): "“No.” Edelgard put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I think for a long time, it was…but after a while, I realized that revenge wouldn’t satisfy me.” She looked at the blue sky above. “After you go through that much suffering…when you beg for help, day after day, and no one cares...you realize that nothing will ever truly make you feel safe again. The only thing I want is for this madness to end.”" -> This is internally inconsistent. See chapter 15 note: ""You know why they created me in the first place.” / “To reunite Fódlan,” spat Hubert. “It was all my father talked about.” / “And I will give it to them. "" This directly connects Edelgard's want to reunite Fodlan to the wants of her tormenters (as this states she is doing it out of spite). Note how Hubert spits at the idea of reuniting Fodlan, and how it was all his father - portrayed as a villain - talked about. This is not what this Edelgard wants, at least not of her own independent want. Earlier in this very chapter, Edelgard internally states a want to hurt Bergliez for leaving her behind. To say that she now no longer thinks vengeance would satisfy her, or that none of the reason that she is doing everything she does is out of a want for revenge, is ridiculous

- Edelgard to Bergliez, upon being asked what will happen to him and his family should Edelgard rise to power: "“All those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded. Given your history, I have little doubt you will be among them.” She nervously played with her white gloves. “All I ask is that when I seize back control of the throne, I can count on the military’s support.”" -> Yes, all who distinguish themselves to Edelgard, for Edelgard's cause, that Edelgard can see and/or know of. How likely is it that a poor farmer who is exceptional at fighting will actually be noticed by Edelgard and be given the credit he deserves, when others who may not be as meritable but do have some merit have the connections to show themselves directly in front of Edelgard? What means will Edelgard give the poor soldiers (that she or Byleth aren't already friends with, notably Dorothea and Leonie) that will allow them to be able to be seen by her and have their merits recognized? Edelgard is the one who says who gains power after all, so it is her they must prove themselves to, but how can they realistically do that?

- What about professions that are not immediately beneficial to Edelgard's cause, such as the arts? How will they fare in Edelgard's society, when their works and talents yield no tangible, objective results (such as, say, farming)?

- Something the fic will address?

- Edelgard does not nervously do anything in front of those she is trying to negotiate with in canon, not even Thales. Strikes against canon: 92

- "[Bergliez] could only laugh in response. “I think we’re going to get along rather well, my lady…and the other?”" -> Except Bergliez and Edelgard don't get along well, ever. Pre ts they are stated to dislike each other, which continues even onto post ts with Bergliez being the only noble Edelgard couldn't bring to heel. Strikes against canon: 93

- As predicted: No one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Literally forgot Hubert was with Edelgard and Bergliez lmao

- Ionius tried to consolidate power to be rid of the consort system due to his unending love for Anselma -> A ridiculous idea, plain and simple. Ionius was Emperor. If he wished to be rid of the consort system there was no need for him to try and take away all power from the other Imperial houses.

- If Ionius truly loved Anselma, why did he allow her to be exiled from the Empire? Why didn't he step in and use his influence as Emperor to help her?

- Edelgard, when she is Emperor - passed down a supposedly empty crown, at that - showcases the all-encompassing power the title of Emperor truly holds to one willing to use that power. That Ionius supposedly wanted to do all of these reforms and yet nothing at all was done, ever (save for ruining Houses Hrym and Ordelia, something even this fic has as canon), if Ionius did want to make these reforms, means that he was too spineless and cowardly to truly go through with trying to pass them. This again unintentionally showcases how awful a ruler and weak-willed a person Ionius was when he had power when trying to paint him in this righteous light.

- Lambert was stated to be trying to pass reforms before he died in canon, not Ionius. From parents to the children, the author is attributing traits from Lambert onto Ionius just as he (author's confirmed gender is male) attributes traits from Dimitri onto Edelgard

- " Her father and mother…she had thought their romance a fairy tale-a story from her father to make a motherless child feel valued. But…they truly had loved each other." -> Edelgard does believe Ionius when he told her of the story of when he and Anselma (supposedly) met each other. There is nothing to indicate that Edelgard thought it to be a lie: in fact, in canon: "But I choose to believe there was genuine love between them." Strikes against canon: 94

- It seems as though finally, after around 18 chapters, Edelgard's scars will finally cause her genuine inconvenience due to her complex about them as well as her trust issues. She has a gash on her back from the Battle of Eagle and Lion, but will not have it treated if Manuela isn't the healer, and yet the woman is occupied dealing with the rest of the students who were injured. How will this fic deal with this?

- Ingrid, referring to her and Sylvain: ""We just switched from Felix lecturing us all day to listening to Edelgard moralizing, didn’t we?"" -> The author is trying to compare a childhood friend whose friends have had years to get used to their barbed tongue to a stranger that directly insults the dreams of one of them. Something which Ingrid canonically hates having be done to her, even from Felix, a childhood friend. Once again, Ingrid being so casual about Edelgard being so disrespectful of her dreams is out of character. Strikes against canon: 95

- "Sylvain shook his head knowingly, ignoring Felix’s truly alarming scowl. “You should have seen his face, Edelgard. Dimitri would go on and on about this girl he met when he was a kid…and Felix would complain about her for hours!” He looked at Felix and smiled. “For all his whining about the “Boar,” nobody loves Dimitri more than him.”" -> Oh? A romantic gay male relationship presenting itself within the fic?

- Another vision of SS experienced by Edelgard. Word from a nameless guard: "The woman, Byleth, leading their forces... She’s not human! She killed half my battalion with one swing of that sword of hers. She didn’t speak, she didn’t shout, she didn’t even change her expression!” The panicked man was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “All those people rallying around her, and it’s like she doesn’t care at all. Like she's a walking corpse!"" -> Obviously saying that Byleth becomes the Ashen Demon if not allowed to be with Edelgard.

- Unintentional statement: Byleth can't be the pure innocent (lesbian) woman without Edelgard's (lesbian) love granting her purity, reverting her to a monstrous, corrupt demon incapable of humanity

- See chapter 20 note: "Implying that choosing SS - aka, choosing the Nabateans - makes Byleth less human. Intentional?" Confirmed to be intentional. Also false: in canon, even when accounting for CF's lesser chapter count, Byleth emotes far more on SS than on CF, which matches with CF having Edelgard call Byleth detached in their A support. Strikes against canon: 96

- The same nameless soldier, same context: "And those Faerghus kids…” / Edelgard leaned forward in her chair. “Ingrid…Sylvain…what of them?” / “They…they were animals. Screaming and ranting about revenge for the King.” -> Is the author really demonizing Sylvain and Ingrid for (potentially!) being mad at Edelgard for murdering one of their childhood friends? Is that really the depths the Edelgard worship will sink to, that friends becoming enraged at a friend's unjust murder from a warlord is being portrayed as something sad for the warlord? Just what else should Edelgard be pitied for?

- "The scared girl desperately tried to drown out the thoughts that reverberated incessantly. / They’re going to despise us…it’s destiny. And how could they not? If we were truly good, the Goddess would have saved us…protected us. But She didn’t. The Goddess took Mother. She took our family. And soon, She’ll take everything else we love. She hates us. / It’s what we deserve." - Now confirmed that Edelgard hears multiple voices in her head tormenting her. That trait that, once again, Edelgard does not have... (Strikes against canon: 97)

- ...but Dimitri does. This is the third time this chapter that this has happened, and far from the only chapter to display such baffling characterization of Edelgard via Dimitri's traits. It is nonsensical.

- " Why had [Edelgard] even been born at all? Nonexistence would have been preferable to watching every faint dream be dashed, to suffering alone over and over. She was just…so tired of being alive." -> Once. Again. Suicidal tendencies/thoughts is not a trait Edelgard shows in canon... (Strikes against canon: 98)

- ...but Dimitri does. The fourth! The fourth time in one chapter the author desperately wanted to just write Dimitri!

- If the fic wanted to take Edelgard in a different direction than canon does and has her display some of these traits, it would be more passable, but this fic is under the delusion that it is in any way following canon closely, especially in regards to Edelgard, and so this can only be seen as a desperate attempt from the author to have Edelgard be sympathetic by donning the skin of an actually sympathetic character such as Dimitri

- "Edelgard looked at herself in the mirror. The back of her academy uniform was stained red, the rhythmic, soft dripping of blood assaulting the princess’ ears." -> And no one commented on this? No one was worried? Not Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, who were sitting right by her? Not Lysithea, who saw her take the blow to her back and never get it healed? Not Dimitri, who delivered the blow? It just so happened that literally no one at all noticed this?

- Byleth literally slapped Edelgard on the back earlier? Wouldn't her hand come back red with blood if it were seeping through the uniform?

** The scene that follows the previous note is too long to quote, despite how truly terrible it is. Long quotes, even extremely long quotes, have been presented in these notes before, but the length this quotation would be if the full extent of it were written here would be a mess, and quite frankly, at that point it would do one better to simply go to the fanfiction itself and read the text from there. With the context received from these notes, if one wishes to see the words for themselves, go to chapter 21 of The Emperor and the Goddess, enter Ctrl + F (or Find in Page on mobile devices), and enter the phrase "Byleth crossed her arms, clearly frustrated" verbatim. The following note will not be quoting the entire scene from the fic (merely summarizing it), though context is needed to understand how truly bad the scene is. **

- To have hope in this fic performing anything correctly is proving to be a fool's dream, for it has yet to do anything right; that includes the aforementioned gash upon Edelgard's back. As stated, it did not draw the attention of those who were sitting around her nor did it draw the attention of the one who witnessed the injury itself, nor of the one who delivered the injury itself, so no one commented on the gaping, bleeding wound Edelgard was "hiding" from everyone as she turned her (bleeding) back to them and left for the baths to clean up (it must be heavily stressed: immediately after leaving it is revealed that the blood is seeping through her uniform). As she was washing - naked, of course - Byleth just so happened to step into the baths with only a towel wrapped around her "for modesty," much to the horror of Edelgard, for she does not want Byleth seeing her scarred body. A slight argument arises between the two over Edelgard getting her injuries checked, before Byleth warns Edelgard that she will go to Rhea and force her to go to the infirmary should Edelgard continue to refuse treatment, which drives Edelgard past the brink. She raises her arms from the bathwater and presents her scars (""Fine!... If you want to see so badly, here!""), to the horror of Byleth ("Byleth Eisner was not a woman given to strong emotional reactions, but she staggered back, hands over her mouth."). Edelgard cries in hysteria, fear of her beloved teacher running away in disgust over her ugly, mutilated body overwhelming her. But Byleth, childlike in her innocence, shared that she too is scarred in strange ways, and that she too is scared of failing those around her - that she has no ambitions save to help and protect those around her. Byleth reveals that it is Edelgard whom Byleth looks up to for always being so strong and always moving forward, and shows that without Edelgard Byleth wouldn't know how to handle the pressure everyone else puts on her. The exchange ends with Byleth reassuring Edelgard that she is beautiful and not the monster she thinks she is.

- There is no nice way of putting this: this is a classic example of how not to write someone opening up to another about something. Edelgard views herself as weak, ugly, repulsive, a monster, shameful, but it is Byleth's love and affection that gives her comfort and warmth, that gives her hope of something more. It forces Byleth to behave wildly out of character (the author can try to excuse this with "well she wouldn't normally behave like this!" all he wants, it doesn't matter when it goes against the base, canonical Byleth. Strikes against canon: 99) in order for Edelgard's scarred body to be seen as something that is repulsive, that is ugly, that is stained, so much so that the pure, childlike, innocent Byleth couldn't stand to see something so tainted. And yet it is that same pure, childlike, innocent Byleth's pure, innocent, childlike love that pushes away the pain of Edelgard's scars for just that moment. Other characters become suddenly blind and/or forgetful of Edelgard's obvious, bleeding wound so that it is Byleth who can be the one to save Edelgard with her pure, innocent, childlike presence and her pure, innocent, childlike uncertainty about her own insecurities (but only when it is convenient for Edelgard, as even Byleth didn't noticed the gaping, bleeding wound until she was alone with Edelgard where no one could interrupt their bonding moment). This scene is inorganic and forced, ham-fisting Edelgard and Byleth in the same room - the wash room, where both are either naked or nearly naked - so that Byleth is the one to find Edelgard, no one else. No one was worried enough about the sudden exit Edelgard took from the conversation she was having to follow her and make sure she was alright, and Byleth just so happened to enter the baths right after Edelgard. The scene is, to be frank, insulting.

- There have been a couple of joking references to a book titled Stones to Abigail in these notes, but in all seriousness, this scene plays unsettlingly similar to a scene in said book, where a scarred girl who is naked reveals her "ugly" and "revolting" scarred body to the love interest, who goes on to soothe and comfort the naked girl as best they can. The resemblance is uncanny

- Byleth described as childlike/innocent. Counter: 5

- Edelgard, in canon, never expresses feeling herself to be ugly, or repulsive, or a monster. Strikes against canon: 100

- Again, Edelgard's scars are only important when they are convenient - this time, in helping develop the romantic relationship between her and Byleth

- There are ways in which scars can be utilized without being problematic, but certainly not when this much focus is placed on them and yet they are only truly present when they cannot hinder Edelgard.

- Perhaps particularly insulting is this phrase from Edelgard: "Did she actually love Byleth at all, or just being saved by her?" Yes, Edelgard, you do simply want to be saved by Byleth, because that is precisely what the narrative has been drilling into the reader's heads ever since Byleth showed herself. Byleth is Edelgard's light, Byleth is Edelgard's hope, Byleth gives Edelgard back her humanity, Byleth is Edelgard's one source of joy, Byleth is Edelgard's entire life, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this fic has shown this to ever be a bad thing. This dependence on Byleth to bring Edelgard joy at the near complete expense of everyone else has been propped up as something romantic, and yet it's now, 21 chapters and over 85K+ words in, that we're supposed to believe that this was actually Edelgard being unhealthy? Even though the author himself said that this was what he enjoyed about their relationship, how much they found each other in each other? Even though we see what the author thinks would happen to the two of them should they separate - Edelgard, lonely and afraid without her beloved teach, and Byleth, the Ashen Demon who cares for nothing without her beloved student - in her visions of SS? This is a joke

- It cannot be overstated that Byleth came to the bathhouses completely independently of Edelgard. She did not come to specifically see her because she followed her out of worry for Edelgard due to her injury - she only knows that Edelgard's injured in the first place due to seeing bloody bandages that Edelgard removed in the bathhouse, before Byleth arrived.

- Author's notes: "On Bergliez, we find out very little in-game, but he 1) offers himself for execution so his men can go free in SS and 2) seems to be actually competent at his job. I thought a nuanced portrayal was more interesting, since I've been writing Aegir as the absolute worst person in the world." -> Note: this is what the author believes to be a nuanced take on someone. Someone who likes Edelgard entirely and does nearly whatever they can to help her, but they did one thing that's morally gray (leaving a child behind to save his own children from the same fate) that is portrayed as objectively bad, so now they are nuanced. While perhaps this sort of character would be truly nuanced in better hands, as it is with his actions being portrayed as something that is obviously so completely and utterly wrong and him someone who deserves complete and utter condemnation - and yet Ionius, who does far worse for far less understandable reasons, gets a comparative slap on the wrist - it causes confusion as to Edelgard's lines. Bergliez seeing her the one time and never helping her is enough for her to want to hurt him as she was hurt, but her father repeatedly coming to and "being forced" to watch her actively be tortured and doing nothing does little to invoke similar depths of resentment? Even granting the idea that "she gives more slack to her father," Ionius is objectively and far worse than Bergliez, down to doing hard things to protect their children, and yet it is only Bergliez who is shined in this unpleasant a light

- To be clear, Bergliez's decision was not a good one, but understandable. It is a gray decision to make. But notice how he is called "gray" and "nuanced" and yet Ionius is nearly completely innocent, as described by the author himself, despite their being no given explaination as to why "he was a figurehead" should be a good enough reason to wash him literally standing there and watching as his children - some of whom aren't even teens yet - get slowly tortured and killed.

- "There are many localization changes I understand (Byleth wanting to get drunk after the battle is one of them), but Treehouse's decision to remove Ionius' entire reason for power centralization (eliminating the consorts) was a big, big mistake." -> Given the history of this author's grasp on the Japanese language, this needs to be checked, as he cannot be trusted as a source as to whether this is true

******* Notes of Claude mischaracterization: Chapter 21, section 1, paragraphs 1, 21 & 23, 27 *******

#o captain my captain #is the Cap'n's name fuckin' Greg holy shit #this chapter was baaaaad #b-but hey maybe i'm just being overly critical?

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Selfish Part 3

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader (kind of?)

Warnings | smut, vaginal sex, swearing

Word count | 1798

Summary | Steve's selfish choice brings Bucky and y/n much closer

Part one | part two

Masterlist

Y/n hummed, her hands working nimbly as she folded up the last of Bucky's t-shirts. She lifted the pile of clothes and placed them onto the bed, somewhere she knew Bucky would find them to put them away himself.

"Y/n?" His unusually chipper voice sounded from behind the girl.

"Yeah, Bucky?" Y/n sighed, turning around with her hands on her hips to face Bucky, who had his pleading face on. It had been nearly three months since the first night Bucky stayed with her, and they hadn't slept in different beds since.

Bucky and y/n had taken to running the compound until the remaining members of the team decided what they were going to do with it. So far, they'd cleaned the place top-to-bottom almost weekly and Bucky had even learnt to cook.

"Can you cut my hair?" Bucky's voice was soft, his eyes alight with hope. Y/n scoffed.

"You trust me to do it?" She frowned, reaching up and ruffling the man's shoulder-length locks, that were still wet from his shower. Bucky chuckled and y/n faltered for a second, before her small smile was resumed. It was a sound that she'd seldom heard since the incident with Steve, and it still caught her off guard every time it happened.

Fuck, Steve. Y/n didn't quite know how she should feel about him. Angry? Sad? Guilty for holding him back? Hurt? Betrayed? She shook off the thoughts quickly and refocused on Bucky, who was now stood in front of her with scissors outstretched from his hand.

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes before snatching the metal from him and making her way into their bathroom. Well, it was Bucky's bathroom, but as they shared his room now, she liked to call it theirs. She used to share a room with Steve, and going back into it was too painful for her after she found out what he did.

Y/n pulled out the stool that Bucky usually sat on whilst shaving - the man was secretly such a drama queen and straight up refused to stand long enough to shave - and Bucky follow closely behind her. He got comfy on the stood, his cerulean eyes piercing y/n's through the slightly foggy mirror.

"Okay, Bucky. If I mess this up, it's on you." Y/n sighed, running her fingers through his hair whilst deciding where to start. Y/n cursed herself, the girl finding it increasingly harder to not admire the super soldier she was living with. Sure, she always knew that he was attractive - she wasn't blind. But y/n hadn't ever taken a second look at his personality and hadn't needed to, either; she'd always thought Steve would be it for her.

But now, after him taking care of her for months, y/n was starting to fall more and more. She wanted to hate herself for it, she really did. But she couldn't. Steve had done much worse, so why should she feel guilty about harbouring a small crush on his best friend? It's not like he was coming back, anyway.

"There we go, all done." Y/n announced, placing the scissors on the counter with a clang before fluffing his much shorter hair with her fingers. Bucky smiled at her through the mirror as she tilted his head from side to side so he could get a look.

"It's not bad." The soldier smirked, reaching up and carding his own fingers through the pillowy brown locks.

"Not bad? I think it's a damn masterpiece, Barnes." Y/n retorted and Bucky couldn't help his grin. He loved seeing her like this - carefree and happy again. Bucky would never forgive Steve for what he did to her. The resentment he felt towards his former best friend only grew as his feelings for y/n did, too. He'd always felt an attraction to y/n; she had a warm smile, a great sense of humour, was extremely smart and not even to mention incredibly beautiful.

"You're right, doll. I'm sorry." Bucky admitted, turning around and standing up before her. Y/n took a shaky breath, suddenly much too close to Bucky for what could be considered friendly. Bucky breathed out, slow and controlled as his hand raises to cup y/n's cheek.

"Do you like it?" Y/n whispered, eyes unable to leave Bucky's as she ran her fingers through his now much shorter, fluffy locks. Bucky nodded, his head dipping down to meet y/n's lips in a kiss.

Y/n moaned against his mouth, fingers tangling into Bucky's hair as his metal arm slipped around her waist. He pulled her flush against him, their hips starting to grind slightly as the kiss became more and more heated.

"Is this okay?" Bucky mumbled against her lips as he walked her backwards, y/n making a little oomph sound as her back collided with the bathroom wall. She nodded before quickly returning her lips to his, hands trailing over his body until they reached the hem of his shirt.

After she gave it a little tug, Bucky got the idea. He pulled away long enough to get the shirt over his head before his lips were latching onto y/n's jaw. He began to kiss down y/n's body, his lips barely dancing over her navel before y/n was pulling Bucky back up to face her.

"We can do that later, I just need you inside me." Bucky nodded, hands grasping at her shirt until it was torn over her head. He hastily unbuttoned her jeans, y/n kicking them off once they were far enough down her legs. She toed her socks off whilst fumbling with Bucky's belt, pulling the leather from its loops before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet.

Stepping out of them, Bucky finally discarded the last of y/n clothes before hooking his hands under her thighs. Y/n let out a short, high squeal as he lifted her from the ground, his hips pinning her to the wall as he braced a hand next to her head.

Bucky moaned when his tip ran through her wetness, hand wrapping around his length as he lined himself up with y/n's core. Bucky leant in, pecking y/n's lips once, twice, three times.

"Ready?" He mumbled and y/n moaned his name when he sheathed himself inside of her in one, slow thrust.

"Fuck, Bucky!" Y/n moaned, head dropping forward to rest on Bucky's shoulder as he let his thumb rest on her clit, teasing circles rubbed over it making the coil in y/n’s stomach tighten already, blue eyes now turned black as he looked into hers.

"I want you to come around my cock, pretty girl." He murmured, lips at her ear as he slowly pulled out to the top, cock dragging deliciously against her walls. Y/n's hands clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin only spurring Bucky on as his pace became slow but strong, knocking the air out of y/n's lungs with every thrust.

Y/n's fingers traced over the scars littering his shoulder, before clinging to the cool metal and moaning out at the contrast of cold against her flushed and hot skin.

"Good girl." Bucky moaned, the praise sending an unexpected wave of wetness tumbling down to y/n's core, his cock pushing in and out of her almost effortlessly now with how wet she'd become.

"I'm gonna come so hard, doll.." He mumbled into the skin of her neck, dropping his head to nip and suck at y/n's jaw line. Y/n knew there'd be marks there tomorrow, but she couldn't care less in that moment as her walls began to clamp down on him in a vice grip.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel how close you are." Bucky moaned and y/n's mouth dropped open into a silent scream against his flesh shoulder, eyes rolling back into her skull. Bucky's pace picked up as he tried to push y/n to her release before he hit his.

When y/n came it was a sudden, the coil snapping and opening the flood gates. Y/n's hips were bucking, stomach tight and legs shaking around Bucky's waist.

"There we go, good girl." Bucky groaned, chasing his own release now. "Shit, y/n." He moaned, stilling his hips as a final thrust sent him over the edge, cumming in y/n in hot spurts.

Their heavy breaths mingled, the smell of sex filling the bathroom as y/n panted against Bucky's shoulder; his own breaths were laboured.

It was a few hours later that y/n found herself in a familiar place - tangled up in Bucky's sheets while the super soldier laid beside her. The only differences now were that they were both still naked, and y/n was practically sprawled over the super soldier's chest.

She was humming, fingers tracing little circles over his bare chest as Bucky's soothing hand ran over her thigh.

"This wasn't just...a one time thing, was it?" Y/n was almost stunned with how weak Bucky's voice sounded, as if he was scared her answer would be wrong.

"I don't want it to be. I want you, Bucky. If you'll have me, that is." She grinned, lip tucked between her teeth as she stared at the soldier. Bucky couldn't contain his own smile as he gazed lovingly at her, his knuckles caressing her cheekbone softly.

"Of course I want you. I just didn't know if it would be..."

"Awkward? Appropriate? Look, I know you and Steve were close, inseparably so, but don't worry about me and him. He hurt us, remember. If he's happy, we deserve to be too." Y/n murmured, eyes twinkling as she took in Bucky's face.

"Are you? Happy, I mean." Bucky asked. She leant forwards, placing a small peck to his lips, before doing it again and again. She giggled between each kiss, hands now flat on Bucky's chest as he squeezed her thigh gently.

"I'm happy." She mumbled between kisses, "are you?"

"As happy as I've ever been. Now come here and let me kiss you properly." Bucky whispers against her lips, his hand curling around the back of her neck before his lips were pressed to hers in a passionate kiss.

It was then that Bucky realised that he'd made a selfish choice. And he didn't regret it one bit.

Because Bucky Barnes was a selfish man.

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: lots of emotions, feelings, slightly cynical and bitter reader- she’s honestly just being a realist, we are chugging forward, did not check for typos, format could be fucked up bc i’m posting from my phone quite literally minutes before i clock in- PATHETIC LMAO

word count: 2.7k

this is a short chapter by my standards, but it felt long to me because of the things in it??? this is part five! all other parts can be found on my masterlist, it’s my pinned post!

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Wanda asked while she tied your corset, not even needing to ask whether it was too tight or loose. You looked up in your vanity and immediately tried to wipe your smile away, but it was too late. She knew you better than anyone, and she had yet to see a thoughtful smile on your face, ever. Pietro, who had caught you going back inside the previous night, caught on to the fact that you looked more carefree, and that you just seemed to look like you were carrying around less.

“Nothing.”

“Hmm,” Wanda hummed, an entertained look on her face. Something told you that she already had an idea of what was going on, even though there was no way she could have. Besides, you hardly even knew what was going on. “I’ll ask again later.” She looked you in the eyes through the mirror, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. “Maybe then you’ll tell the truth,” she said, flicking you on the side of the head, and then letting it rest.

§§

Natasha was out in the village doing whatever it was the knights did one night, and she was planning on spending the night at a bed and breakfast before coming back in the morning. As disheartened as you were about not being able to see her for your stargazing, you were partly glad for it. You missed being with the twins.

You had dinner with them alone, sitting and laughing about old memories and scheduling times to make new ones together. You loved the way you could be with them. Your laughter was allowed to go over the volume of a giggle without them looking at you like you had grown seven heads, your silverware were allowed to take a tumble onto your plate with a clatter without a second glance, and you were allowed to use whatever language you pleased. You missed the comfort that you felt with them, the comfort that your brain and the part of you that would always be the farm girl felt with them.

“And Pietro chased him all the way off, you should have seen how terrified he was,” Wanda recapped, and you couldn't help but grin at Pietro, who was sipping wine with his charming grin. “That boy will never lift another skirt, I can assure you of that.”

“I’m glad,” you mused, shooting Pietro a look that made him laugh.

“Enough about me,” he said after swallowing a sip of his wine that was much more like a gulp. “We’re not going to talk about how you’ve been walking on the clouds for weeks now?”

You nearly dropped your fork again. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve both realized,” Pietro said, motioning with his buttered knife towards his sister, who had a soft smile on her face as she observed your reaction. “That you have been significantly happier. Even with the circumstances-”

“Pietro,” Wanda hissed, but you just snorted and shook your head.

“It’s like you found your own little pocket of happiness. We were worried about you, but, you’re doing alright.” Ever the blatant one out of the three of you, he leaned forward with his trademark smirk, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you know that we don't?”

You hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing twice as you grappled for anything to say, even a lie. And then, you settled on just shrugging your shoulders with a grin, shaking your head. “Honestly, Pietro, I know nothing. I don’t know anything.”

§§

Your heart was beating faster than normal as you looked at the woman next to you, your hand subconsciously itching closer to hers as you sat on the ground, ass on the blanket that you had brought out. “I would like to… show you something.”

It was probably the twentieth time that you and Natasha had met with each other, and still, you were entranced by her and everything that she did. And you were entranced while you stared at her and waited for her answer, just a little nervous as to what she would say.

As if she would ever say no to something you said.

“Show me anything you’d like me to see,” Natasha urged on, and you fought back a smile. You stood up, and she did the same, and then you were picking up the blanket and walking side by side with her. It was quiet the entire way there as you walked in step with her, hand brushing against her every few steps and sending tingles down your arm every time it happened.

The feeling that you got when she touched you made you feel both alive and scared to death. You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were steadily collecting more than friendly feelings for her, and that she may have been on the same page you were on. The game you were playing was a dangerous one, the risk threatening to swallow up the reward more and more by the day.

You had known that being with her by yourself was bad judgement, ever since the first time you did it. Hell, the look you gave her the first time you met her was far from appropriate. Every single conversation that you had with her was a risk, and both of you knew it. And now that your soon-to-be husband was approaching, it was even more scandalous. No one knew and you hoped no one would ever find out, but hiding forever wasn’t a choice. But what would you be hiding if there were no true feelings?

You hated yourself for falling for her and her pretty words.

“I used to come here to escape,” you started, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, voice low as you passed the tree line to get into the thick of the woods. You narrowly missed stepping in a particularly muddy spot on the ground. “This was my spot, before I got the garden of course.”

“The woods?”

“No, Nat,” you said, slightly amused as you stepped over a fallen branch. You smiled a bit when the sound of running water hit your ears. “The stream.”

You knew the exact second that she saw it, because her eyes widened and her breath hitched. “That’s not a stream, that’s a river.”

“It’s the forgotten part of the main river,” you explained. “It’s much skinnier and more shallow, and it doesn't have nearly as much fish coming through, so people forget about it.” You looked towards her and saw how intrigued she was by it, so you judged her armor free body with a slight smirk. “What? Never seen running water?”

“I lived in the capital, all they had was the ocean. And even then I was never allowed on the harbor if I wasn’t selling clams, and I didn’t sell clams much.”

You felt silence start to grow between the two of you, so you said the first thing that you thought of. “You don’t look like a clam seller.”

He looked away from the river and to you, a slight grin on her face even as she talked again. “And you don’t look like a petal kisser, blossom, but look where we are today.”

Your heart raced in your chest. “Blossom? Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“It’s only payback for calling me ‘cherry’,” she said, and you stifled a laugh at the retired name, glancing up at the red hair that you had gotten inspiration from.

“You didn’t actually mind it,” you said, looking off into the distance, only looking back at her when a warm hand slotted over yours. You blinked and looked down at your hands, which she had intertwined, and then back up at her again, only to see that she was staring straight ahead in the dark at the way the moonlight hit the water.

“How could I?” She asked softly, a subtle breeze picking up.”You were the one saying it.” She looked at you, and in the dim lighting, you could have sworn that her eyes were saying, you can call me anything in the book, and I will own it proudly. And then, the look changed to something else, something less devoting, and something more passionate. It took you a few seconds to understand what the look meant, and before you could fully register it, she was leaning forward.

A few seconds came and went where you could feel your heartbeat all over, and you tried to look somewhere other than in her eyes. You couldn't. “Don’t look at me like that.” When all Natasha did was tilt her head to the side and give you an even more intense version of the look, you let out a small sigh. “Please.”

“Why not?”

She knew why. She knew why probably better than you did after living in the capital. She saw what happened firsthand to people who committed crimes, and those who committed second degree adultery. If you two did what you were wanting to do with your entire heart, you would fall right into that category. “I know where this is going,” you said softly, “and this won’t end well.”

“Why not?” She asked again, and you turned your head to the side, shaking it slightly and closing your eyes.

“Because, I’m about to get married,” you hissed, and though you didn’t mean to sound so angry, you did. Natasha was hardly affected.

She lifted her arms and let them fall against her clothing with a soft slap that still echoed in the night. “You’re not married right now.”

“But I will be, Natasha,” you said, gripping her hands and squeezing them softly, begging for her to understand you. “What’s going to happen when I get married to a man who already has a streak for murdering his wives, and he finds out that I have feelings for you? He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll both be hung for adultery, after being put into torture camps for being… together as women.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Y/N, you know that.” The fervency in her tone nearly shocked you as she took a bold step forward, nearly surrounding you in her scent and energy. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

“You’re too important for me to condemn to death and dishonor just because I have feelings for you. It was selfish of me to meet with you in the first place, but I can’t let myself do this. It’s a bad idea,” You said, voice hushed even though no one would have followed you. You were trembling, hand shaking more than anything else as you tried to understand how fast everything was moving; forward and backwards, sewing together and ripping apart all the same. If you were any more attentive to her expression, you would have seen the grin that lit up her face as your confession. “We were just about to cross a line. We’ve crossed quite a few dotted ones, but this one? It is bold and blaring.”

“Blossom,” Natasha started, and you just shook your head and kept going.

“And-and what we were just about to do? That crosses the line. We cannot.”

“Do you really think my feelings for you are going to change depending on whether or not we kiss?” She asked, her voice slightly deeper than usual, almost sounding insulted. “You’re telling me to close my heart off from you, not to not kiss you. And you know that.”

“What if I am?” You asked, eyes starting to burn with tears. “I’m doing it for the right reasons, Nat. I’m trying to save us from a world of hurt when reality finally sinks in.”

“That isn’t today.” She took another step forward and this time, you couldn't find the strength in you to step back. “And it isn’t tomorrow, and not even within the fortnight. You and I have something, and I know that you know it’s different. It’s special. We would be so stupid to ignore it, so stupid.”

“I know, I know,” you said, voice tapering off into a whine as you slowly felt your resolve come apart, even though you thought it was stronger. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Natasha said after a few minutes of pure silence, and you found yourself exhaling. “I just wish things were different.”

“I know,” she said, and you turned to look up at the sky, tears threatening to come down on your cheeks. The stars seemed to twinkle and wink at you, talking amongst themselves about a future you had no idea about just yet.

“Guess they’re never gonna line up,” you murmured to yourself, and then you heard Natasha grumble something from your side, and then she was coming closer, a barreling energy force full of passion and intent, and you knew exactly what she was coming for. For less than a split second, you thought about it. And then you turned your head and met her halfway.

You would have been surprised by the passion in it if you weren’t just as desperate for the contact. You twisted in her arms, already wrapped around you as she drew you in close, closer than you had ever been with her, and the tears that were welling up before were now escaping for a different reason. Your lips were pressing into hers, moving fluidly and with an air of fervor that she matched equally. You felt wanted, and needed, and you felt loved. You felt the tenderness of the moment with every brush of her fingers on the back of your neck and with every rub of your back over the thin material of your night dress.

Your legs were shaking, and she noticed before you did that you were getting weak in the knees. She held you up and pulled back slightly, just enough for you to feel her lips brush against yours while she asked if you were okay, like she wasn’t willing to take herself from you just yet. And honestly, you weren’t ready for her to leave you, either. You nodded, and she leaned in again, much slower, and then you had time to think.

Her eyes weren’t the same shade they were when the sun hit them, they were almost an eerie pale blue, but they were still just as gorgeous to you, especially now that they were slanted with desire. Her hair wasn’t perfect like she somehow always managed or it to be, and you realized that it was because you had gotten a hand to run through it despite the way that she had previously held you like a lifeline. Her lashes were long, and you swore that she was close enough that you could count them. Her cheekbones were accentuated in the lighting, making her look like something straight out of a fairy tale, like a floating fae creature that led people to safety. In that moment, you could have sworn that she was the answer to every prayer you had ever whispered, to every question you had ever asked your etiquette teachers. In that moment, and in every moment to come, she was your ending and beginning, your creation and destruction, your sunrise and sunset. She was Natasha Romanoff, and in that moment, no wedding or murderous man even held a candle to the way you felt about her.

What a beautiful person.

“Now you’re looking at me strangely,” Natasha said, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it as the both of you treated over the moment carefully, trying not to break it and leave it in shambles. “What are you thinking about?”

“How I’m going to have to pretend like this never happened in a few weeks,” you said softly, and part of you hated yourself for bringing up the bad part of the future so soon after you both had just lost all ties to reality.

“You don’t have to,” she said, stroking your hair. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, sneaking off in the night and coming back in the morning before anyone realizes. Nothing really has to change, I just want you to know that I… that we can be whatever you want us to be.”

“As long as we’re in the confines of the garden walls.”

“And now the woods,” Natasha said, and you couldn’t help but laugh in her arms.

“And now the woods."

****

this is short, but i couldn’t see anything being tacked on to this. we’re at an important part, and from here it’s gonna be fun!! thank y’all for reading; if you liked it please drop a like and a reblog bc it makes my day!! comments also make me ascend y’all

tags!! : tags! : @teenwonder @saamwilscn @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

so sorry if i forgot anyone!!!!!

#natasha romanov x reader #natasha x female reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #lgbt marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #my fics #natasha x reader #knight!natasha #knight au #lesbian!natasha #natasha romanoff x female reader

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