#and this is one of the ones i saw that subsequently pushed me to finally consider this show

[vbrosclips]

s2e10 I Know Why The Caged Bird Kills

[foxy-eva]

Damaged Goods

Summary: The belief that they were both undeserving of love led Spencer and Reader into each other's arms. If they can’t find love, they can at least soothe their need for physical affection, right?

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.” - Anita Ofokansi

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut, Angst with a hopeful ending

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) negative self-talk and self-deprecation (both Reader and Spencer, also in the context of sex!), implied past trauma (nothing explicit), some dark/cynical humor, loneliness, crying (also during sex), showering together, oral (fem receiving), unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: I hope you guys are ready for some smangst! This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge! 

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

It was as if Spencer had expected you when he opened his door, a sympathetic smile spread over his face and the first buttons of his shirt already undone. As if he had known that you weren’t planning on wasting any time to get him undressed once you stepped inside his apartment. 

“He stood you up, huh?” Spencer concluded after reading your expression. 

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “I don't even know why I still try with those stupid dating apps.”

“Probably because you don't want to end up old and alone like me,” he chuckled, his tone laced with cynicism. 

“You're not old,” you countered as you stepped closer to him. “And right now you’re not alone either.”

“Technically correct.”

You came to a halt not even an arm’s length away from him. His sight wandered over your face, obviously trying to interpret your current state of mind. It was rare that Spencer made the first step in your encounters. It was important to him to make sure you were the one in control. 

“I need you, Spencer,” you finally confessed. 

There was a certain desperation audible in your voice but it was nothing Spencer hadn’t heard before. He stepped towards you to close the distance between your bodies. 

“Come here,” he whispered as he placed his hands on your waist. 

What Spencer had to offer was the next best thing to love you could get. So you didn’t hesitate to give into the temptation of feeling his body pressed against yours for the umpteenth time in those past few weeks. 

Unlike the men before him, Spencer was not scared to get close to you even after telling him the secrets from your past. He didn't budge when you tried to push him away, well aware of the darkness he’d face once he stepped closer. He wasn’t afraid that you could suck him into the void that captured the place in your chest where your heart once was. 

What he saw when he looked into the abyss that was your soul felt familiar, almost comforting. It reminded him of the demons that possessed his own soul. It broke his heart to see you hurting. However, as morbid as it was, it also made him feel less lonely in his own suffering. 

One particularly lonely night a few weeks ago led you into his arms for the first time – and subsequently into his bed – to at least soothe the yearning for physical affection.

There was no romantic attraction to be found between the two of you. You came to an agreement that you were both too marred to even speak of romance hypothetically. Too large was the risk of  potential self-destruction that could follow a union of two such damaged hearts. 

This was a purely physical thing – a way to pretend that your love lives weren’t completely doomed. Sleeping with Spencer was like committing to a symbiosis, a mutual agreement to use the other’s body to appease this pain that wouldn’t go away. 

You reminded yourself of that when his lips made contact with yours that night. He kissed you like a starving man, never quite able to satiate the burning hunger of his soul. What you had to offer was good enough for now, though. 

As he walked you into his bedroom, it almost felt like following a routine the two of you had adopted. Just a few skilled movements were enough to stand completely bare in front of each other, greedy hands groping whatever flesh was in reach. 

When you finally lay down on the mattress, Spencer’s lips chased every curve and dip of your body, almost as if he was determined to find the secret remedy to finally end your suffering. 

Only there was none. 

The inner turmoil never went away but during those hours you were able to tune it out. It was nothing but a distant memory once Spencer laid down between your legs. He collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue until you were squirming underneath him, desperate to find relief. 

“Not yet,” he breathed as he sat up between your legs. 

He leaned over you, sharing your own taste with you as he kissed you again. At the same moment his tongue entered your mouth, you could feel his hardness pressing into your entrance. There was no need to be reluctant, no moment of questioning if what you were doing would taint the other one. His mouth left your lips to bite into your neck instead, unafraid that his venom could ever hurt you. 

Everything I touch starts rotting, Spencer once chuckled when you tried to save one of his house plants. Cynical as ever, he had said it with a grin on his face but you knew that there was more meaning behind his words than he would ever admit.

It was different with you, though. The damage had already been done by the hands of other people. There was no innocence that could have been defiled. There was nothing Spencer could do to wound you worse than them, no matter how little he thought of himself. 

Maybe that was the real reason it was so easy for him to lose himself inside your embrace. You could see it in his eyes as he entered you. He was allowed to be himself with you, to feel lust and affection despite his hardship, despite the lack of true love. 

Those sensations were a mutual experience, too. With Spencer you were never worried about being rejected. Together you had created your own safe space, a bright pink bubble within the darkness where you could truly be yourselves with one another. 

In perfect unity you began moving with each other, each thrust of hips answered by your body grinding against him. Together you chased the feeling of sweet release, the moment of pure bliss. 

“Fuck,” Spencer muttered against your lips, announcing that it wouldn’t be much longer now. 

You slowed down your movements, desperately trying to prolong this moment, to indulge some more in this short reprieve of the mess that was your life. 

“Please, hold on,” you begged him as you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. 

Suddenly and without a warning Spencer stopped moving to kiss away the tears from your cheeks instead. He tasted the saline on your skin and imagined that it had been kissed by the ocean instead of the cruel reality.

“Are you okay?” He cooed when he found your eyes.

“No,” you breathed. “But when am I ever?” 

“Do you want to stop?” He offered, obviously concerned with you. 

You shook your head as you pushed against his shoulders to urge him to lie down beside you. Climbing into his lap, you found your place on top of him while Spencer’s hands grabbed your hips. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure before continuing. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “You know very well that I need this just as much as you do.” 

With your hand wrapped around his length you guided him into your body once more. Spencer threw his head back into the pillow as you started moving at a slow, almost torturous pace. Not much time passed until the both of you danced along the edge of euphoria again. 

It only took a few skilled motions until you finally fell over the edge, taking Spencer right with you. The high subsided a lot quicker than you would have liked and with that the bright pink bubble you had created burst again.

Spencer held you for the rest of the night, even after the both of you had long fallen asleep. Only when morning came did he dare to let go of your body as he got out of bed. When you heard him turn on the shower, your entire body began tingling as the longing to bask in the warmth his skin radiated became overwhelming. 

With quiet steps you approached the bathroom and opened the door. 

“Do you need something?” You heard Spencer’s voice from behind the shower curtain. 

You stepped closer to the shower before asking, “Can I join you?” 

“Of course.” He pulled back the curtain to let you step in, offering a hand so you wouldn’t slip. 

It was only a little awkward to stand in front of Spencer completely naked in bright daylight. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, sharing both the warm water and the heat his body provided with you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that you were looking for when you joined him in his morning shower, but it was nice to just be close to him. 

You stepped back to find his eyes and he noticed your ambivalence. Before he had a chance to ask, you giggled, “I’m trying to decide whether I want to get clean or dirty.”

Spencer joined you with his own laughter. “Well,” he chuckled as he grabbed the shampoo bottle, “let’s start by getting you clean.” 

He began shampooing your hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. This act of innocent affection shocked your entire system. Suddenly you were unable to form a coherent sentence, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the sensation of Spencer running his fingertips over your scalp. A part of you wanted to fight this experience of being taken care of but a much bigger, much more desperate part simply indulged in the sensation. 

When you couldn’t get much cleaner, you reciprocated this pure act. Spencer didn’t resist, instead his body became pliable under your touch as you helped him wash his hair and skin. It almost felt like a sacred act to rid him of the remaining soap. Your sight followed the bubbles as they ran down his legs and disappeared in the drain. 

You couldn’t quite explain it but somehow this shower felt more intimate than any sexual act you had shared in the past. It wasn’t your intention but it felt like something between the two of you had shifted as you stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed. 

It felt like the safest option to lighten the mood with your usual playful banter. 

“My therapist said something stupid the other day,” you finally broke the silence. 

“Did she say that you should stop sleeping with me? Because then I might need to have a serious conversation with her,” Spencer joked. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dr. Reid. I never mention you in therapy,” you lied. 

He saw right through you but let it go anyway. “Right,” he said instead. 

Spencer walked right behind you as you made your way over to his kitchen to make some coffee. 

“She said that I need to start learning to love myself before someone else can fall in love with me.” The coffee maker made a hissing noise right as the last word left your lips. 

“Yikes,” Spencer deadpanned. “Good luck with that.”

“I know, right? I’ll probably end up old and alone like you,” you snickered.  

Spencer laughed at your words. “I was talking about the coffee maker but I deserved that.” 

The ringing of your phone distracted you from your mission to make coffee. When you got it out of your purse, you saw a message from the guy who stood you up last night. 

“The guy from last night is asking for another date. Apparently he didn’t show up because of some work emergency,” you explained with your eyes still glued to the screen. 

Spencer huffed in response. “You're not seriously considering it?” 

“What choice do I have? It’s not like people are lining up to finally date me.”

He rolled his eyes as he poured some coffee in a mug. “He’s not the right person for you. You should say no,” was his final advice. 

“That's the thing with damaged goods though, isn’t it? People can sense that we are not worthy of their time, that they can do better. So we have no choice than to settle for something, or rather someone not quite perfect.”

Months ago you had come to an agreement to stop cheering each other up when it came to your love lives. There was a mutual understanding that telling the other one they would for sure get their happily-ever-after soon didn't help at all. It was sort of comforting to be able to talk about the unadorned truth with one another. 

“There's a difference between not quite perfect and absolute dipshit though,” Spencer retorted.

His choice of words made you laugh. It was rare that Spencer used crude language but he never minced matters when talking about your Tinder chronicles.  

He found your eyes and added, “You deserve better than that.”

Half jokingly, half seriously you asked, “Do I really?” 

A smirk formed on his face when he teased, “Well…” 

You playfully punched his arm and laughed, “Don't be a dick, Spencer! Now I’m going to go on this date out of spite!”

Spencer had seen the worst of you and he was aware that you’d probably fall back into old habits quickly, even if that guy was decent. That poor man didn't stand a chance to fight through all those walls you had so carefully built to protect your heart.

There was another, unspoken reason why the two of you had stopped cheering each other up so long ago. In the unlikely case that you would actually finally find your soulmate, what would that mean for Spencer? That he had been more broken than you all along?

It’s not that he didn't want you to find happiness. But the thought that he might be left behind was devastating. Ending up old and alone was only a tolerable thought if he could have you by his side. 

So Spencer did what he knew best and started pushing you away.

Several days passed without hearing a word from him. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was nothing you could hold against him – you had done the same thing before. It couldn't have been a coincidence that right when you were supposed to leave for your date, you found yourself standing in front of Spencer’s apartment door instead. 

Three firm knocks announced your presence. You heard some shuffling on the other side of the door but he didn't open. It was to be expected. You got his spare key out from your purse to enter his place uninvited. 

It was the couch where you found him, his arms wrapped around his knees, making him appear so much smaller than he really was. He was wearing an old Caltech shirt and sweatpants and his hair looked even more unruly than usual. The redness around his eyes revealed that he had been crying.

Instead of greeting you, he groaned, “I shouldn't have given you my key.”

“Well,” you shrugged as you sat down beside him. “Too late.”

“I mean it, you shouldn't be here.”

“Nice try,” you quipped. “You should know by now that you can't scare me off that easily.” 

The truth was that he didn't want you to leave, even when the words that left his mouth claimed the opposite. You had proven to him over and over again that no matter how many of his scars he let you see, you stayed.

Old habits die hard, though. So he still tried walking away, even if he wouldn't get far. You watched as he disappeared in the bedroom and threw the door shut behind him. The sound didn't even make you flinch. 

Slowly you counted to ten before you got up to follow him. He knew you better than that but he still had a surprised expression on his face when he saw you walking through his bedroom door. A part of him still believed that there would come a point where all this darkness became too overwhelming even for you. 

“I won’t leave,” you reminded him, a loving softness laced over your voice. 

You sat down beside him on the bed when he started crying again. To your surprise he didn’t wince when you reached for his hand. 

“Talk to me,” you finally offered.

“You don't understand,” Spencer whimpered. “I feel so alone.”

Right as the words left his lips, he looked up at you, tears still running down his cheeks. He looked at you and remembered that what he said was wrong. 

Because you did understand. 

And he knew that very well. 

That was when he remembered that it wasn’t his apartment you should be at right now. He took a deep breath before wiping away his tears. 

“You're gonna be late for your date,” he stated, his eyes glued to the floor. 

Your words were genuine when you countered, “You're so much more important than a stupid date, Spencer.”

After hearing those words, he leaned over to catch your lips with his without a warning. The fervor he displayed knocked the air out of your lungs. He kissed you greedily, his hands grabbing your waist to push you against his body. 

His tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, melting into him with this kiss that tasted more salty than you would have liked. How easy it would have been to fall back into your old routine, to lose yourself inside his arms as you both chased a quick solution to a problem that couldn't be fixed. 

His hands started searching for the softness your body had to offer, calloused fingertips brushing over the velvet of the skin he found underneath your shirt. It was not like you didn't yearn for it too, for this make-believe game you liked to play. More than anything did you crave the sensation of his touch, this moment that briefly let you forget all the marks past lovers had left on your body. 

It didn't feel right, though. Not anymore. 

Spencer instantly sensed your hesitance and pulled back to find your eyes. Never before had he looked more vulnerable than in that moment. 

“I don't think it’s a good idea,” you breathed as your hands found his face to wipe his tears away. 

Spencer pulled away from you, denying you the access to his skin. 

“So it's okay if you cry during sex, but when I do it, that's where you draw the line?” He huffed. 

The harshness of his words shocked you but you could see the regret in his eyes instantly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

You reached for his hand as you softly spoke, “It’s okay. You're upset, I get it.” 

Several moments of silence passed. Seconds of contemplating how to proceed until you decided to offer him the comfort he craved anyway. 

You leaned in for another kiss. It was a lot softer and slower than before but Spencer took what he could get. When you got ahold of the hem of his shirt to take it off, he pulled back. 

“Wait, I’m not sure about this,” he stuttered. “I don't want you to feel like–”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him. “Do you trust me?”

A quiet breath fell from his lips before he nodded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With that there was no more resistance to be found when you continued undressing him. He moved with you until only underwear was covering your bodies. 

“Lie down,” you cooed and he did as you said. 

Unlike your previous encounters, it was apparent that what the both of you craved was not sex this time. You laid down beside him to pull him into your arms, no distance allowed between the two of you. His skin was pressed against yours, so much so that it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. 

He left featherlight kisses on your neck before resting his head against your shoulder. You held him as close as you could, not daring to loosen the grip you had around his body. 

With his arms and legs all bent and folded to fit inside your embrace, there was no more trace of the tall man he usually was. He seemed small, almost fragile. Even more so when another fit of sobs shot through his body. 

Spencer trembled inside your arms and you held him. You held him until he had successfully cried himself to sleep.

At least that was what you thought. The harbingers of your own slumber had already begun numbing your senses when you suddenly felt his lips brushing over your cheek. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered almost inaudibly. 

I know, you thought but were already too far gone to answer him. 

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found Spencer already awake, looking at you. His eyes were still a bit swollen but his facial features looked soft, almost content. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Like what?” He mumbled. 

“Like a lovesick fool!” 

Spencer didn't seem surprised at your words. It seemed like he was aware that you had heard what he said to you last night. 

“What if I am?” He asked, a smirk spread over his face. 

Now was not the time for your usual sarcastic banter. Not when everything you had with him was about to implode. 

You sat up in the bed and warned him, “Stop it, Spencer.”

He shook his head, “I can’t keep pretending. It’s the truth.”

You got up to get dressed while you huffed, “How can it be true after you have seen the worst of me.”

“I have seen the worst of you and I still love you.”

You started pacing up and down his bedroom, trying to come up with something to say to that. Spencer got up too and put his clothes on. You came to a halt about an arm’s length away from him before you said, “This is not what love should feel like.”

“How would you know?” He countered. 

His words seemed cruel but they were true. You didn't know what love actually felt like. There was this image you had in your head of an innocent, saccharine kind of love that probably only existed in fiction.  

Spencer didn't let it go just yet. There was a certain insecurity audible in his voice when he practically begged you, “Look at me and tell me that you don’t feel the same way ” 

Instead of looking at him, your sight fell to the floor. “What I feel is the urge to leave.”

It was to be expected that this would be your reaction. Spencer knew you well enough to be aware of the risk he took by confessing his feelings. He suspected that you reciprocated them but were still too afraid to admit it. 

He stepped out of your way and gestured towards the door. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

To your own surprise, you hesitated.  

“What are we doing, Spencer?”

A very timid smile appeared on his face when he realized that you didn't follow your instincts to leave. Maybe there was hope after all. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer answered. “��but I’m willing to find out.”

It wasn’t like this thought had never crossed your mind. In fact, there was a part of your brain that sometimes overpowered anything else and let you fantasize about a potential future with him. 

However, you were very familiar with the demons Spencer had to fight every day. And you were even more aware of your own darkness. You were afraid that the combination of those things might become a poisonous mixture that had the potential to destroy the both of you. 

So it was only logical to voice your concerns. “I don’t think I can make you happy.” 

“It’s not your job to make me happy,” he sighed. “But maybe there is a chance that we could find happiness together. In little those moments, just like before, when we woke up together. Or when we took a shower the other day. Maybe those little things add up one day to something bigger. To something better. Something worth taking the risk.” 

You looked at the door once more but decided to sit down at his bedside instead of leaving. 

You found his eyes and breathed, “Okay.” 

Spencer sat down beside you. “Okay?”

What you had with him was imperfect and not at all what you had imagined. Some might think what you were about to do was stupid, maybe even reckless. It was only a matter of time until one of you got hurt, got caught in the crossfire of the intensity of your emotions. But maybe it was worth giving it a chance. 

Yes, some might call it reckless. But in that moment you thought of it as bravery. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Let’s give it a try.” 

A split second after you said those words, you felt Spencer’s lips on yours. The kiss felt different than the ones before. There was no desperation or insatiable hunger noticeable in his actions. This kiss was sweet, almost innocent. It was a way to melt into one another with no hurry, no need to compensate for something you’d never truly experience. 

Soon you were both shedding each layer of clothing before lying down on the bed to continue the kiss without any barrier between you. His chest was firmly pressed against yours and you could feel his heart thumping against your skin, almost as if it was looking for its counterpart inside your ribcage. 

You could feel your heart calling out to him. For the first time you didn't want to be with him to shield your heart from the rest of the world, no. This time you wanted to open up, to give Spencer a chance to feel your affection.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses. 

He leaned back to smile at you and you could feel how his love entered your body, how it was on a mission to bring light to even the darkest corners of your soul.

“I love you, too.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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[reginaphalange2403]

Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.” 

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?” 

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you. 

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side. 

He glared at you as he sat down. 

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings” 

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut. 

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen. 

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in. 

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering” 

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you. 

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky. 

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room. 

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister. 

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something. 

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him” 

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready. 

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said. 

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there. 

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building. 

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like.  And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms. 

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time” 

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine. 

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with. 

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you. 

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers. 

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you. 

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried. 

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured. 

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.” 

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before. 

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this? 

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you. 

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting. 

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further. 

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache. 

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in. 

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles. 

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers. 

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door. 

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you. 

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control. 

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.  

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time. 

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you. 

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece. 

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before. 

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building. 

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you. 

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen. 

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do. 

 “Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.”  He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do. 

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm. 

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf. 

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next. 

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away. 

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you. 

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some. 

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do. 

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck. 

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able. 

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho. 

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you. 

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. 

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do. 

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment. 

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia. 

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings. 

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha. 

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view. 

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes. 

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat. 

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him. 

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves. 

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in. 

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing. 

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom. 

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile. 

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt. 

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery. 

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze. 

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders. 

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.” 

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

[kbwrites]

TOXIC! Boyfriend Toji

Synopsis: you’ve been dealing with toji’s antics for far too long, but can you really ever quit him??

⚝content: toxic bf! Toji x f!reader, Toji is literally the worst, nsfw, mentions of cheating, makeup sex

⚝a/n: to all the Toji apologists: SAVE YOUR BREATH. He’s toxicccc. Love it though. I hate cheating but for him I’d drop a “he knows where home is”.

⚝wc: 2k

Toji Fushiguro.

Sorcerer Killer. Gun for Hire.

There wasn’t a job he couldn’t do, or wouldn’t take. His name whispered in the darkest corners of the underground. This last job though… went on longer than he’d expected. What was supposed to be “quick and easy” turned into three weeks of cat and mouse. Shadows and whispers, close calls and narrow escapes. Shui would be getting an earful when he saw him again.

He trudged lazily up the stairs to his shared apartment. Each step was heavy, the weight of countless sleepless nights bearing down on him. As he reached the top of the fourth-floor walk-up, a tinge of annoyance flashed upon his tired face as he saw—

All of his shit in black trash bags outside the door.

He fumbled for his key, shoving it into the lock, his irritation only grew when it didn’t turn.

You changed the locks.

Dating Toji Fushiguro for two years, you had been through a lot with him. But through all the ugly arguments, empty promises, heated breakups and subsequent make ups—you two would always find your way back to each other. The cycle as predictable as it was toxic.

He was terrible for you, at least that’s what your friends would tell you. Yet, there was something just so intoxicating about being with him. Like a drug you just couldn’t quit.

But this time, after he disappeared for three weeks, not even bothering to call or text—this was the very last straw.

You lay on the couch flipping through the channels when you heard the banging on the door.

“Hey! (Y/N) Open up!” The voice of your sorry excuse for a boyfriend boomed from the hallway. You rolled your eyes, not moving from your spot. You were done with Toji Fushiguro, finally realizing that he’d never change. You hoped he’d take the hint and leave, maybe go stay with that dumb brunette you caught him with the day after your one-year anniversary.

Instead, you only heard a series of faint metallic clicks before the doorknob turned open.

And in storms Toji, chest puffed out as he watches you nonchalantly surf the tv. His eyebrow quirks up expectantly, waiting for you to jump into his arms after being missing for a month, but instead, you just roll your eyes at him.

He strides over to you, blocking your view.

“You changed the locks.” He huffed.

“Yeah, that usually means don't come in.” Your sarcastic tone only fuels his anger. He glares as he towers over you.

“You’re actin’ like you didn’t miss me.” He chuckles. You stand up, walking away from him to the kitchen. He quickly follows behind you, leaning his muscular body against the doorframe.

“Actually? I didn’t. Three weeks of not worrying if you’d come home in a body bag. Not worrying if you were laid up with that bitch from downstairs. AND better yet not worrying about you gambling away all our money. Truly, it’s been perfect.”

Toji laughs, he fucking laughs at your comment. Only serving to irritate you even more.

“So y’er sayin’ I’m only good for givin’ you stress?” He taunts, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Didn’t realize you grew a brain in three weeks.” You snap back, rummaging through the fridge for a beer. You pop the cap off, taking a sip. The cool liquid providing a brief, soothing distraction.

Toji watches you from the doorframe, his eyes dark with amusement secretly loving the way you got worked up over him. He was a toxic bastard and knew it. Thriving on the chaos he caused in your life.

“Most women would be happy t’see their man.” His tone mocking.

You scoff taking another swig. “You’re not my man anymore, Toji.”

“Is that what you think?” His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint appearing as he pushes off the doorframe, striding toward you with a predatory grace. He stops mere inches away, his rough hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His half-lidded eyes bore into yours, their intensity igniting the white-hot anger within you.

“Let. Go.” You spit, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. His grip loosens, taking a step back to look at you.

His eyes rake over your form, being away from his woman for so long wasn’t easy. And right now, dressed in a pair of shorts and tank top—you looked good enough to eat.

“I’m done, Toji,” you sigh, setting the beer bottle on the counter behind you. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to steady your breathing.

“Y’really think I’m gonna let you go just like that? After everything we’ve been through—“

“You promised you were done with that life, Toji! And for once, for ONCE I actually believed you.” Your voice rises, your anger spilling over as you clench your fists at your sides.

“You knew who I was when you met me.” He scoffs, crossing his strong arms across his chest.

“You’re right. And I’m finished.” You storm past him, your heart pounding in your chest as you head to your bedroom. You grab his backpack and return, shoving it into his chest. He grabs hold of your wrist, his anger bubbling up to match your own.

“Bullshit. You don’t want me gone. I know you don’t.” His eyes lock onto yours, his hold firm and unyielding. You try to wriggle free but fail as he pulls you closer to him.

“It’s that little bitch Yosuke isn’t it? You wanna leave me so you can go fuck that rich asshole?”

His mind whirs with the thought of your coworker, one he’d mentioned multiple times he hated.

His jaw clenches as he pushes you against the counter, your smaller frame now trapped between the marble countertop and your ex-boyfriend’s imposing body.

“You think any of those pricks in designer clothes could handle you? That they could give you what you need?” His voice is low, a dangerous growl.

“I want you OUT Toji.” Your hands come up to his broad chest, pushing against him, but he doesn’t budge. The pain in your voice is evident. He leans in closer, chest pressed against yours. The frustration—the tension at an all-time high. This wasn’t the first heated argument or time he’s left without word, but he knew that after everything was said and done; he’d eventually come home. And now that home had been stripped of all his things. Reduced to black trash bags.

He was so angry; you were such an infuriating woman. And yet, at the same time he wanted nothing more than to be here in this moment. Seeing you so fired up, so pissed off—makes his mind go crazy. His towering figure looms over you, your bodies impossibly close, you could feel each other's heart beats pounding in sync.

And there it was. The reason why you couldn’t ever really shake the habit that was Toji Fushiguro.

He pulls you into a hungry kiss, crashing his lips into yours. The intensity is overwhelming, a mix of anger, passion, and desperation. His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding. As he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he strides toward the bedroom, each step filled with purpose.

He drops you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing from the force. His calloused hands roam your body, feeling every inch of your scorched skin. You melt into his touch, already losing your breath. He smirks at you, his emerald eyes dark with desire

“Ohhh I get it, it’s been three weeks without me huh? All you need is some dick.” Your senses are overwhelmed with him. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the faint hint of blood makes your head spin.

“F..fuck you Toji” You hiss as his lips attack your neck, he smiles against your skin.

“M’gettin’ to that Doll.”

He really was a toxic bastard.

His hand reaches for the hem of your shirt pulling it off you, leaving your chest exposed to him. He looks at your bare chest with hungry eyes. Toji’s head delves down, capturing your breast in his mouth. He sloppily sucks as his tongue swirls your sensitive bud. His other strong arm holding your waist as he works his mouth on you.

You breath hitches in your throat, your hands finding their way to his hair. Nails dragging against his scalp, tugging as he moans into your chest. He releases your nipple from his mouth, looking up at your panting form.

“Missed you so much doll, you have no idea..” he mumbles, setting you down on the mattress as he crawls between your legs. His fingers hook around the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with intense force.

He growls as he finally sees your sopping wet entrance. His own length straining against his pants. If it was up to him, he’d live and die between your plush thighs.

“No one’s touched my pussy while I was gone right?” He questions lowly. A hint of possessive anger in his voice as his brain imagines that idiot from your job touching what was rightfully his. He bites down onto your inner thigh.

“No! Only you, Toji!” You whimper as he nips and sucks at the skin between your legs. He moans as he hears those delicious words leave your lips. Wasting no more time he latches onto your clit, deep moan rumbling in your core as he tastes you for the first time in weeks.

Your back arches into the bed as his skillful tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves. He mumbles against your cunt.

“M’sorry baby… so fuckin’ sorry..” As his tongue lolls out to tease your entrance. His finger rubs your clit as his tongue fucks your weeping hole bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He thinks it’s ridiculous, absolutely laughable that you would even think you could leave him. Why would you? When he knew exactly what to do to make you come undone?

Your body shakes as you reach climax, your essence coating his tongue. He greedily laps at your cunt, slurping up every drop of your slick. He climbs on top of you, kissing you hungrily—allowing yourself to taste just how good he could make you feel from just his tongue.

Pulling away, he looks at you smirking.

“M’not done with you doll, on your hands and knees.” You only half register his words, mind still hazy from your orgasm. He flips you over, pushing your head into the pillow.

You feel the head of his aching tip rub between your folds, gathering your slick before sliding into you. You both let out breathy moans as his thick cock is sucked in by your walls.

“Ffuccckk, missed this pussy so goddamn much.” He groans as he bottoms out. You whimper into the pillow as you feel him deep in your cunt. His large hand rests on the small of your back as he pumps into you. His strokes long and hard, heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust.

“You know thump. That little bitch thump. Can’t fuck you like I can.” He bullies your cunt, anger and jealousy behind each thrust. He gives your ass a harsh slap, you yelp as he rubs the sting away.

He mumbles and drones on as you moan into the pillow, his hips stutter as he feels your walls clenching around him.

“Yeah doll, juuusst like that.” He grips your hair, yanking you up, flush against his chiseled chest as he pounds into you. “Who’s pussy’s this mama?” He whispers into your ear, hot breath and raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Your’s Tojiii!” You whine as you cum on his cock. Your mind emptied, all the stress he caused disappeared as he fucks you through your orgasm, pistoning in and out of your pussy. His arm leaves your hair, wrapping it around your neck as he roughly thrusts up once more. You feel his length twitch inside of you as he cums.

You fall back onto the mattress, Toji’s weight sinks next to you, the bed dipping under his muscular frame. You turn over to look at him, his chest rising and falling heavily, glistening with a sheen of sweat that catches the dim light of the room. His black hair is tousled and damp, sticking to his forehead, a smile etched onto his scar-laden lips. He looked so good, too good.

He pulls you against his chest, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he whispered lies into your ear. You knew his apologies meant nothing. That you’d probably be in the same exact position next month. He was a liar, a killer, but he was yours. Flaws and all.

“Y’still want me gone doll?”

[coichii]

FROM THE START - FELIX

pairing - bf!felix ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: fluff & flash back style. self-indulgent cus I don't like horror movies.

word count: 0.7k

warnings: slight cursing & actions used to reduce panic

A/N : hello !! welcome to part six of my fall series, “fall: records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for the members :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “fall” feeling ! this story is based off of “From the Start” by Laufey. enjoy !!

“I know I’ve loved you from the start”

“Do you remember when you confessed to me?” He asked you out of the blue. Suddenly, you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you’re reminded of the rather embarrassing day you had confessed to him.

“Do you have to torture me?” You groaned, pushing your head into the crook of his neck from where you were sitting on the couch.

He chuckled at this, rubbing your back in small, consoling circles. “I personally think it was adorable, my love.” Suddenly you’re blushing even harder, if that was even possible.

Your slew of whines that you let out after his remark tells him everything he needs to know, stopping his remembrance with a slight chuckle.

Felix’s mind goes back to the movie you two were watching, Coraline to be exact. But you can’t focus, your mind drifts off to when you confessed to him, a content smile spreading on your face.

◂—past—▸

“Don't worry, I’ll protect you from all the scary monsters.” Felix said cheekily, nudging you in the shoulder. You rolled your eyes at him, hitting him lightly in the arm as he chuckled. “There are no damn monsters in this Felix, we’re watching Scream. Besides I’m not even that scared anyways.” You lied; you were scared.

You two were currently about to watch a horror movie in theaters since Halloween was just around the corner. But there was something else. Ever since you were a little kid, you've hated horror movies. You didn’t get the thrill of being scared nearly shitless for “the thrill of it”. However, it’s Felix you're seeing it with. You didn’t want to possibly let him down by saying no. He was your best friend turned crush after all, you just had to do it.

So, when you find yourself settling into the seats of the theater with the feeling of your heart racing and cheap buttery popcorn, you knew you had only yourself to blame.

It’s only a while of anticipation before the movie officially starts, long, boring trailers and warnings finally out of the way. But to be honest, as the movie carries on, you're slightly wishing those trailers stayed just a tad longer.

It’s a bit into the story when the movie starts to really get to you. Jump scares and screaming making you flinch, which Felix took quick notice of. There's one particularly brutal scene that causes you to fling your hands over your ears, a habit you picked up over time as a form of comfort. “Are you sure you’re okay y/n? we can always leave you know.” he whispers, voice softer as to not disturb anyone else. You nod weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just caught off guard a little.”

Felix saw right through you though, he always does. He didn’t want to push you though, so he just took your hand in his when you placed it back on the arm rest. Now your heart is beating for a different reason than fear, but affection. You’re sure the sweat your accumulating is from a different kind of fear than the type you were just experiencing now, face flushed red.

Bang! a sudden sound from the screen makes, startling you to the point of flinching. You subsequently jerk your hands out of Felix’s and back onto your ears as a desperate attempt of consoling yourself, but it doesn’t really work, and Felix notices.

“Thats it, were leaving.” He whispers, voice firm nonetheless. “Felix, I'm fine. I promise. Just a little scared.” You lied, and he read you like an open book.

“No, you’re not. You’re scared, and that's okay. I don't want you to watch something you’re uncomfortable with. We can find something else to do, and it doesn’t have to be this.” He whispered, earning a couple of annoyed glances his way but honestly, you couldn't care less.

You don't wait any longer, standing up and quickly scurrying out of the theater. The guilt wouldn’t go away though, you couldn't stop apologizing to him the entire rest of the hangout or the way home. Felix obviously said it was okay, that he didn't mind and things like this happen from time to time. He was making you feel a little better, but it wasn’t helping all that much.

“I'm still sorry Felix. I’ll make it up to you.” You say frowning as he pulled up to your house. “Y/n, I promise it's okay. I still had a lot of fun hanging out with you without the stupid movie.” He reassures, locking his doors so you can’t leave without hearing what he has to say. “Are you sure?”

He smiles, grabbing hold of your hand once again. “I promise.” The way he's looking at you, touching you, has you overfilled with love to the point you can control anything you’re saying. “I love you.”

◂—present—▸

“I will say, I’m still upset I didn't get to tell you first how in love I was with you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence you two had as the movie continued to play.

“Hah! At least I could get one win out of that night. That night was so fucking embarrassing.”

“Really you think so?” You scoff. “I know so.”

“Hmm. I thought it was cute.” He smiles, rubbing your back again.

“How couldn’t you.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I just love you too much to not find everything you do adorable.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Maxing Out on Emotions

The opportunity to work as Red Bull's PR assistant was a dream come true, even though you had heard stories about Max Verstappen's fiery personality and grumpy attitude towards the media. When Christian Horner offered you the job, you were hesitant at first. However, you weren't one to judge based on gossip, and the chance to work in Formula 1 was too good to pass up.

Your first day didn't go as planned. Determined to make a positive impression, you decided to introduce yourself with a friendly gesture. Armed with boxes of doughnuts, you made your way to Max's driver's room, hoping to break the ice with a sweet treat. You knocked on the door, expecting a warm welcome, but there was no answer. Puzzled, you knocked again, a bit louder this time. The door swung open, and a less-than-happy Max stood before you. "What?" he said harshly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. "Hi, I'm Y/N, your new PR assistant," you said nervously, trying to muster a smile. "I thought we should introduce ourselves since we're going to be working together this season." You held up the boxes of doughnuts with a hopeful grin. "Ah, and I brought doughnuts!" Max stared at you as if trying to decipher a complex puzzle, silence hanging heavily in the air. Finally, he spoke, his tone flat and unyielding. "I can't eat those doughnuts. They're against my diet." His bluntness made you feel foolish. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment. Max continued to scrutinize you, his expression unreadable. "Look, I'm Max the driver, and you're Y/N the PR assistant. That's all we really need to know about each other." With that, he closed the conversation and the door to his driver's room, leaving you standing there with the untouched doughnuts.

Your subsequent interactions with Max weren't much better. He gave you short, curt responses and seemed to avoid you whenever possible. You often wondered if you had done something wrong, but you couldn't pinpoint what it might have been. Thankfully, you found solace in befriending other members of the team and the paddock, especially Daniel Ricciardo. His infectious energy and easygoing nature made him a joy to be around, and you quickly became close friends.

The paddock was buzzing with energy as the race weekend was in full swing. You were sitting with Daniel in a quiet corner, discussing his favourite Australian snacks, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

"Y/N, how is it possible that you've never tried them? Next time we go to Australia, I'm taking you with me to try them," Daniel said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You laughed, enjoying the light-hearted conversation, when suddenly the door to the lounge swung open. Max walked in, his expression immediately darkening when he saw you with Daniel.

"What are you two laughing about?" Max snapped, his tone harsher than usual.

You glanced at Daniel, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Just talking about snacks, Max," he said casually. "You should join us."

Max ignored Daniel's invitation, his eyes fixed on you. "Y/N, shouldn't you be working? We have media obligations today."

The mood in the room shifted instantly. You felt a pang of frustration and decided you couldn't take his attitude anymore. "Max, can I talk to you for a minute?" you said, standing up and gesturing towards a quieter corner of the room.

He hesitated but followed you, his demeanour still cold. "What is it?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Why have you been treating me like this?" you demanded, your voice a mix of anger and hurt. "I've tried to be nice and helpful, but you keep pushing me away. What did I do wrong?"

Max looked taken aback, his eyes searching yours. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You didn't do anything wrong, Y/N. It's just… I honestly don't know how to act around you, you're always so happy and nice to everyone. And then there's me. People think I'm rude, and maybe I am. I just… I didn't know how to handle you."

You frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

He looked down, his usual confidence wavering. "I like you, Y/N. More than I should. And I thought you were too good for me. You're always smiling, making friends with everyone, and here I am, this grumpy guy who doesn't fit in with that."

You stared at him in shock, the pieces slowly falling into place. "Max, you can't just push people away because you're scared. I didn't know you felt this way. If you had just talked to me…"

He finally met your gaze, his eyes softer now. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't know how to deal with it."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. "Well, you could start by not being so rude," you said with a small smile. "And maybe we can figure this out together?"

Max's tense posture relaxed, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. "I'd like that."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "Good. Now, let's get back to Daniel before he starts planning our trip to Australia without us."

Max chuckled, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of the warmth beneath his tough exterior. As you walked back to join Daniel, you couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future, both professionally and personally, with Max by your side.

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not. 

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord. 

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts. 

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd. 

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same. 

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to. 

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot. 

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?" 

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't. 

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off. 

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his. 

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it. 

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With  Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a... 

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant. 

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak. 

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop. 

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me." 

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable. 

It goes as quickly as it came. 

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you. 

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right? 

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark. 

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates." 

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination. 

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same. 

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again. 

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones." 

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" 

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream." 

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude. 

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy," 

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts. 

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate. 

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through. 

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

[owlsie-hoot]

ACGAS series 5 in general.... (thoughts about 5.6. later)

Where to begin? (that I said I would write no more essays?)(beware this is not really positive)

Maybe with this: The writers seem to have completely forgotten the entire character development from four previous series. I don't get how you can come up with such a series after series 4 (and I mean series as in "season") ?

Harsh words, sorry, but I am annoyed and frustrated and after episode three I had sadly lost faith in series 5. Slowly, but for reasons I try to explain in this very lengthy text post (not everyone will agree with me of course and that's ok).

So far ACGAS has really managed to keep up very high quality writing for four consecutive series. There was the odd episode that I didn't like that much but there was never such disappointment involved.

First: usually the episodes feel well balanced, the storylines are all interwoven in a way, all characters have an equally strong story arc for each individual series and continuous character development. There is also a good balance between heavy and light topics. ACGAS is very good at giving us meaningful quiet scenes that show a character's depth without overdoing it. To me almost all of this was missing in series 5. Mainly because they changed the structure and therefore also the balance of the episodes. Instead of connecting the characters, each episode featured and focused heavily on one couple, giving them a lot of space with one long storyline and the other characters were pushed into the background.

Episode 1 focused on James with an almost 20 minute long sequence of scenes that only featured him and his crew. Usually (and this applies to all subsequent episodes) the show switches back and forth between the different storylines and never lingers too long on one character. That creates a good balance. Because you feel that all characters are treated equally even if the main focus in an episode is only on one character.

Episode 2 focused on Audrey and her new role as warden. The main focus were her and Siegfried in this episode.

Episode 3 put the focus on Tristan's return but also had the christening and Helen's struggle with Hannah and until after the christening the episode felt well balanced to me. But then we didn't see Audrey anymore for almost 15 minutes and focused only on Helen and Hannah as well as on Tristan and Siegfried.

Episode 4 made the same mistake episode 1 made: a very long sequence of scenes that only features Tristan and Carmody. Siegfried was not seen for about 25 minutes.

Episode 5 introduced a potential "love interest" for Siegfried, something I absolutely hated and was extremely annoyed at. After the first two episodes, Audrey and Siegfried's interaction in episode 3 and the couch scene in 4 it felt like a huge step backwards and an ignoring of Siegfried's reaction to Audrey's entire series 4 storyline. Convinced that nothing would come out of this I tried to brush this away as a misstep. A plot device to show Siegfried how important family is for him. This episode also pushed all other characters, except him and Carmody, into the background and although it felt better balanced than ep 1 and 4, the other characters didn't move forward.

Episode 6 was actually the one that stood out from the others and felt like the episodes I love. There was a focus on two couples this time (Tristan and Siegfried / Helen and James ) and they balanced it really well with a fun and a very emotional storyline. Suddenly they remembered how to do it! But only in episode 6. But the entire "love interest" plot was a bit too much through the Tristan and Siegfried scenes, which feels like a disservice to the entire fandom after series 4 when we saw how important Audrey is for Siegfried and when even the press finally realised that these two should be more than friends. The ending sadly felt unfinished to me. No conclusion, no real denouement at all. It felt like it needed two or three more scenes to finish the episode.

I have never complained about an entire series of ACGAS before and I hope this will be the first and last time I am doing this. As much as I love my ship and have of course also watched series 5 from a shippers point of view, it also failed to deliver for James and Helen (until episode 6) and also for Tristan. We knew James was struggling, we saw glimpses of that every now and then but everything felt rather shallow and was not given that much depth. Mainly because this heavy topic was buried underneath a lot of fun and happiness and laughter and silliness that seemed to be the main theme of series 5 (as opposed to the more angsty series 4). Yes, that topic was resolved in episode 6 and also in a good way but the way towards it felt a bit half-heartedly.

Same goes for Tristan. I was so looking forward to his return and they did a great job with that in episode 3 and also in 4 (although episode 4 dragged a lot, and felt a bit repetitive in the end) but after that I would have loved to see the cracks in his mask, see how he really struggles, see him in quieter moments, unobserved by others. This is what made ACGAS so good in the last 4 series! And it was totally missing. Siegfried and Tristan's talk did not really get to the bottom of his troubles at all. I felt that Tristan was not really telling the truth here.

Take Helen. She's a new mom, we saw her struggle a bit with her new role at the beginning but then they did not give her a storyline for herself at all. Throughout series 5 she was mainly used as a plot device to crack single cases. Like the poisoning of Bingo, the poodle incident in episode 3, Frisk's death and resurrection. We only really saw her shine in episode 6.

Audrey had an amazing start with episodes 1 and 2 but from episode 4 onwards she was more or less degraded as housekeeper, busy in the background. Of course there was the "bomb" incident in episode 5 which was fun but in previous series they would have connected that story with the other storylines of the episodes, used it to show what a strong woman she is, how no one can tell her what to do. In interviews it was hinted at that she would get a storyline that tests her mental health. We have not seen any of it at all. Nor have they managed to use her role as Warden to bring the reality of war closer to Darrowby. It was funny, even ridiculous in episode 5. The seriousness of her war effort was wasted almost entirely. And the other major failure was the complete omission of Edward. Which further underlines my main complaint about series 5: lack of depth, lack of character development, lack of meaningful progress. What bothered me most about her storyline was that they separated her completely from Siegfried in the last two episodes. The scenes they shared were mainly her working in the background, except for that moment about going to the Drovers. Suddenly they felt like employer and employee again. And she was a housekeeper. Not a family member. This is something that I really cannot take. Sorry.

And at last Siegfried. We saw him struggle here and there, we saw him embracing his found family in the first 3 episodes. He was the most emotional in episode 3 but after that his character development also kind of stopped and even went backwards with the "love interest" storyline they forced him into. Throughout the last four series, Siegfried has slowly moved from overcoming his grief to testing the waters again with Dorothy and Diana, then his focus slowly shifted back to Audrey. And especially in s4 we saw how much she means to him in more ways than housekeeper/friend. All this was now disregarded in the Miss Grantley storyline which would have fitted into s3 when Audrey and Gerald were not yet a thing but serious enough for Siegfried to react to it every now and then (the "not date" and his reaction to the kiss). At the beginning of the series, the interviews made us think that Siegfried felt left out, as if his work was not important enough. We saw very tiny glimpses of that but only if you look closely. This was another storyline and development left floating on the surface instead of really delving into it and developing it properly. (and I might write an entire essay about Siegfried + Audrey soon) In the end he felt very far removed from Audrey and the married banter was completely gone in the last 2 (maybe 3 episodes) as if the writers decided to extinguish the slow burn all of a sudden.

So overall s5 started well with the first 3 episodes but then started going downhill (for me) halfway through episode 3. A lot of potential was wasted. The focus was mainly on making sure everybody had something to do but they forgot to go deep, to show us what makes this new adaptation of ACGAS special:

It's the much more real, rounded characters, their feelings, their experiences, the way the storytelling goes much deeper and makes the characters more relatable than in the old series.

And when you take that away, you lose bits of the soul, you lose what makes this version of ACGAS so special. It was still there, partly, but not in the way we have seen it in series 1-4.

Now: We still have a Christmas special and it was written by a writer I really trust. However, I have always trusted the writers and they have let me down this year so I am now sadly really anxious about the final episode of series 5. I never thought I would feel that low about a favourite show and my ship again after Downton s6. But I guess there is no escaping that in fandom. Ever. I just want my "giddy anticipation" back :(

[wandasaura]

Just saw your oral fixation post and I can just imagine Daddy Natty picking you up in a way you can't grab her with your mouth and just brings her to Wanda like, "here this is yours right now."

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ no because i can confirm this happens at least once a week, but the first time it happens your shocked that your daddy can pick you up in such a way, until you realize that she’s somehow cracked the code to your nommies and no matter how much you squirm you can’t reach her with your teeth. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ you’d have been sitting in her office the first time you dared to bite her, because usually whenever you get the urge it’s when you’re cuddling with wanda. there’s just something so irresistible about her shoulders and her biceps and especially her fingers when she’s wearing all of her most sparkly rings. natasha thought it was cute at first, and the first time you bite her when she’s in the office, she doesn’t think anything of it… that is until you decided to be bold and dig your teeth into her shoulder just the tiniest bit harder. she warns you to stop, she threatens a getting you a muzzle but you know she would never, so like you do best, you ignore her and bite her again… and again… and again… until she’s finally at her breaking point and abruptly pushes away from her desk and picks you up practically sideways. you’re held a far distance away from her chest, and no matter which way you squirm her forearms are just slightly out of reach. cue your cute pouty face and annoyed whines. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ she doesn’t even bother knocking on wanda’s office door, she just barges in and uses her feet to pull wanda’s swivel chair away from the desk. you’re subsequently dropped in your girlfriends lap, natasha’s finger wagging in your face, and honestly she should’ve known better because the second she’s distracted with wanda you reach out to bite it. “take your girlfriend.” she completely ignores the way your nibbling on her finger, seemingly proud of yourself for finally winning, but that ends quickly when she pulls her hand away and places them on her hips. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ “my girlfriend, huh?” wanda quirks an eyebrow up at natasha, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. she isn’t looking at you, entirely captivated by the sight of natasha with the faintest patches of dampness on her exposed arms and shoulder. she doesn’t even need to ask why you’ve suddenly been dropped off to her like some kind of plush toy, she knows that ever since you’ve discovered biting one of them when you need to fidget is exponentially better then chewing on your nails or your sleeve, you’ve become the exact definition of a menace. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ “your girlfriend until she stops using me as a chew toy.” natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a soft fondness buried within that enchanting shade of green that suggests she’s not actually annoyed, just overstimulated. you can’t even bring yourself to feel bad about being the cause of that, already distracted by wanda and leaning into her touch, you pull her hand up to your lips, biting down on her fingers with a hum of content. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ “mommy needs her hands, baby. shoulders or arms, if you can’t handle that we’ll go find you something else to do.” she redirects you gently, and though you’re upset that you’re favorite thing to bite has been taken away, it’s better then nothing, so you just attach your mouth to her shoulder instead, cheekily giving the woman a hickey that would be hidden by the blazers and blouses she wears at the office. wanda merely laughs at your recently discovered oral fixation, secretly adoring that she can provide you this level of comfort in a way that’s not at all sexual… though… she definitely uses it to her advantage when you’re playing. “say bye to daddy, she’s gotta finish her case.” ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ you wave to natasha, not even responding verbally because that would entail pulling away from wanda and absolutely are you not going to do that. natasha kisses your head before she leaves, though you catch the words that escape beneath her breath as she heads to the door, “i’m gonna get her a damn chew toy at this point.” you just ignore her because you know that even if she does, and she definitely does, you’ll always prefer wanda and those toys will sit unused in her office drawers until you inevitably make your return in a couple of days and decide that biting her is more fun that finding wherever wanda is hiding. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

[dmbakura]

as someone who became interested in Stellar Blade when its 2022 trailer dropped (where its name was changed from Project Eve) watching the lead up to the game become hijacked by the incel squad claiming it was gonna be the downfall of modern gaming because it brought back sexy female protagonists, to the subsequent "censorship" (it is not censorship) debacle that saw most of the same squad turning on the game, and the entire conversation surrounding the game in general, has been maybe the funniest, most bewildering thing to witness.

on one hand you have the incel gooners trying to use the game as a political mouthpiece to push a certain agenda, usually being misogynistic or bigoted in other ways in the process. also mixed in are misguided critiques of certain double standards (example, regarding bg3 and how it handles sexual content vs stellar blade and its fanservice) and just overall a lack of actual care for the game outside of using it as a bludgeoning tool in their dumb culture war.

on the other hand you have people who only know this game through the conversation the incel gooners have started and think the game is some hentai coomer simulator with no other substance. I believe this group is mostly well intentioned, but at the same time are allowing the incel gooners to be the authority on the game and aren't doing any actual research of their own. I have seen so many people gobsmacked that stellar blade has actual polished gameplay and that the sexy costumes/boob jiggle aren't at all representative of the game as a whole. there's definitely some good faith critiques of the character design mixed in here, but also please stop allowing the gooners to shape your perception of the game and letting them dominate the conversation.

and finally you have people like me who have ACTUALLY PLAYED the game (in my case I'm 22 hours in so I haven't finished it yet) and know what the game is actually about. it's a highly polished single player action game, with no microtransactions, on console (which is a HUGE deal in the Korean market, which is dominated by mobile games) and it's overall just a really fun experience. the sexy stuff you can take or leave, there's a bunch of costumes that cover her up if you don't like the skimpiness, but aside from the blatant fanservice with Eve, it's just about the most sexless game I've played in a while. seriously, there's not even romantic hints, aside from a female shopkeeper hitting on Eve.

anyways, it's just interesting (and borderline incomprehensible) what the conversation surrounding this game has become lol

[defectivevillain]

scarlet sufferings

pairing: Julian Devorak/Reader (implied to be romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

Julian isn’t the only one who has nightmares—you all do.

word count: 1.4k | ao3 version

warnings: spoilers to the game, nightmares, canon-typical depictions of death and sickness

Muriel dreams of the haunting scraping of metal blades against the Coliseum ground. He dreams of unseeing eyes staring straight through him; of boos and jeers reverberating through his mind loudly enough to send pain shooting across his temple. 

Nadia dreams of her city falling to ruin. She dreams of abandoned city streets, silent and decrepit; of civilians with reddened eyes begging her for help; of the world outside the castle disintegrating until she is the only person left to make sense of the wreckage. 

Portia dreams of her brother: accused of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to the gallows. She dreams of locking eyes with him, seeing one final word fall from his lips before the guillotine falls with a deafening crash.   

Asra dreams of losing you—of watching the light fade from your eyes as he holds you in his arms, powerless for the first time in his life. 

And Julian? Julian dreams of his own execution; of that disillusioning dinner shared all those years ago; of crimson eyes burning into his skin; of a curse delivered to him disguised as a gift. Fortunately, Julian’s nightmares become less frequent after the revelation that he’s innocent—and the subsequent innocent verdict. And when Lucio is vanquished and the plague is eradicated, the others begin to forget their sleepless nights. 

Your nightmares, however, only increase in frequency. After all, you only recently learned that you died from the plague. You hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but it just makes too much sense. The grief in Asra’s eyes… his elusiveness… your headaches and memory loss… that inexplicable déjà vu when you first saw Julian in your shop… It makes a disturbing amount of sense. As time passes and you begin to accept it as the truth, your memories begin to return. They slowly emerge from a hazy fog, assailing you in the strangest of moments. Idly—perhaps foolishly—you hope that the return of your memories will give you peace. Instead, they only incite further torment. 

You try to hide your nightmares from Julian. You wake up breathing heavily and quietly slip out of bed before he notices. But one night, you lurch forwards—tossing and turning loudly enough that you unknowingly rouse him. You suppose it was inevitable. If Julian is bothered by the disruption, he doesn’t show it. 

“Hey,” Julian murmurs, his brows furrowed as he pushes himself up to a sitting position. You rub your eyes roughly, struggling to ground yourself in reality. When you take a slow breath, you can still feel the stiff, heavy air of The Lazaret. “What’s the matter?” He frowns, looking concerned. 

You just shake your head silently.

“Hey, you helped me through all of my problems,” Julian reminds you. “The least I can do is help you.”

“You already have,” you say quietly. And it’s true—Julian has already done so much for you. He has placed his trust in you time and time again, even when you didn’t have the confidence to trust yourself. 

Julian looks momentarily surprised by your remark; a blush then rises on his cheeks, before he shakes his head. “You’re having nightmares.” He states, waiting for you to elaborate. After a few seconds pass and you remain silent, he sighs. “Come on. Being stubborn and self-sacrificing is my thing.”

“You are pretty good at it,” you acquiesce, letting out a choked huff of amusement.

“Aren’t I?” Julian smiles, puffing out his chest pridefully. It’s clear he’s trying to lighten the mood and you find a smile threatening to rise on your lips. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can utter the words. “I keep dreaming about The Lazaret,” you admit. Something flashes in Julian’s eyes. You know the building is an unpleasant reminder to Julian too—albeit for different reasons than yours. You take a slow breath and shakily smooth out the covers, desperate for something to focus on. But you can’t avoid Julian’s attentive gaze, even if it’s a patient one. “The memories are coming back to me.”

Julian’s eyes widen as he catches onto what you’re saying. He reaches out and grasps your forearm, looking distressed at the thought of you experiencing those horrors all over again. “I should’ve been there,” Julian says hoarsely. He looks across the room to the open window, where the starry sky stretches across the horizon. There’s pain written all over his face. He pulls his eyes back to you, as if imploring you to blame him. 

You just shake your head. That’s not why you’re distressed; moreover, you don’t want Julian to blame himself for things that were out of his control. “I just…” You murmur, finding it increasingly difficult to verbalize your feelings. “When I close my eyes, I’m crumpled on the floor there… decaying behind those walls. And I can feel the hunger gnawing at my stomach; the pain running through my arms and legs; the red tinting my vision; and… the loneliness.” 

“We live alone and we die alone,” you recite. The cool night air from the window sends goosebumps across your skin. “I know that. But…” The words die in your throat. 

Julian immediately pulls you into an embrace, his hand rising to support your head as he leans into you. His grip is stronger than normal, as if he’s reassuring himself that you’re still here. You hold him in return, fighting back tears. Your throat is burning. The memory of your death is so raw and real. You can recall it with frightening ease—can nearly feel the blurred haze of pain and discomfort. 

“You’re not alone,” Julian reassures you. You bite the inside of your cheek. He brings a hand up to cradle your jaw, his eyes gleaming. “Not anymore. Not when I’m here.” 

“That’s not something you can promise.” You murmur. Asra told you something like that too, once upon a time. But then he distanced himself, because the sight of you was enough to provoke intense grief within him. You know he didn’t mean to harm you… but it hurt regardless. 

“I can and I will.” Julian asserts, looking uncharacteristically sincere. He brings his hands to your shoulders and leans back, locking eyes with you. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it.” He pulls you into his arms again and you allow yourself the fleeting comfort. 

You’re not sure how long you stay there in Julian’s embrace. All you know is that, at some point, his voice breaks through the silence. “How long have you been having these nightmares?” 

And there it is: the very question you'd be hoping to avoid. You feel guilty that you’ve been hiding them from Julian, but at the same time, you didn’t want to bother him with your distress. You tell him as much, which only brings a frown to his face. 

“I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but… you don’t have to suffer alone,” Julian says, brushing his fingers across your knuckles. You clasp his hand and meet his eyes, surprised by the sheer depth of emotion gleaming in them. “Let me help you, the way you’ve helped me countless times already.” 

“Okay.” You agree reluctantly. You can almost see the relief in Julian’s expression, as his shoulders visibly relax and he takes a slow breath. 

“Good,” Julian says. His fingers trace your cheekbone and a look of unmistakable fondness crosses over his face. There’s a slight smile on his lips, unmarred by his typical bravado. A few seconds later, he seems to realize what he’s doing and he pointedly clears his throat, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “We should try to get some more rest. If at all possible.” 

But his hands remain cradling your face and he hasn’t made a move to separate from you. You blink at him, waiting for him to retreat back under the covers and close his eyes. 

Several seconds pass and nothing happens. “Sorry, I-” Julian blinks, a shy smile rising on his face. Then something like amusement takes over. “I seem to be stuck.” You roll your eyes fondly; eventually, Julian lets out a theatrical sigh and removes his hands. You both know Portia will have your heads if you’re late to breakfast again. With that recognition, the two of you burrow back under the covers. This time, you don’t bother to pretend to maintain some distance—instead drifting towards the middle of the bed and closer to each other. A sudden sense of tranquility washing over you, you fall asleep easily—knowing that whatever your nightmares produce will fade in the face of Julian’s steadfast presence. 

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[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Not Alone

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Bucky is refusing to come to terms with everything that’s happened following the fight with Thanos, and you know that the walls he’s carefully built up around his emotions are going to come crashing down one day. So what happens when they finally do?

Warnings: Angstyyyyy, Bucky is SAD, takes place somewhere between that and FATWS but idk where, crying, hurt/comfort, I don’t know if it’s an inherently “happy” ending per say, but it's a comforting one I think, some mentions of bad mental health, NOT Endgame!Steve Friendly (just like me)

A/N: I am sorry for this

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

Bucky had been struggling, you knew it.

You’d been by his side for long enough to know when he was trapped in his own mind

But this was different

Usually, you could at least get him to tell you what was wrong

But ever since the fight with Thanos he’d avoided talking about what was wrong

You could hardly blame him, it had been a difficult last few months

In the fallout of his return from spending 5 years as a dust pile and the subsequent fight, you had held Bucky’s hand through Tony’s funeral, being placed in a holding cell by the US Government, his pardon hearing, moving back to Brooklyn, starting his court-mandated therapy, and trying to acclimate to the modern world, and fully come to terms with the pain and torture HYDRA had inflicted him for decades.

And then of course there had been Steve.

You knew Bucky was upset and hurt over his best friend leaving him, and everyone else he had grown close to, behind to be with Peggy.

And you could hardly blame him.

Suffice to say, Bucky had been through few months alone, and you knew it had been hard on him

But whenever you had tried to ask him about it he simply smiled and said “I’m fine, Doll. I’m okay.”

But you couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t reach his eyes.

He was trying so hard to be strong, to push down how he was feeling, but you saw the seams starting to unravel

All the pain he’d been feeling for months finally came to a head late one night

You two were doing dishes after dinner, you were washing and he was drying

Occasionally, Bucky would bump his hip against yours, making you smile and gently splash water at him, making him laugh

You and your boyfriend loved this, just enjoying each other’s presence with the two of you being giant dorks together

Everything was good, you two were having fun

Until Bucky went to dodge one of your splashes and lost his grip on the glass he was drying.

The glass shattered on the floor below, and he immediately went tense.

“Oh God, Bucky!” You grabbed his flesh hand gently, checking for injury, “are you okay?”

He didn’t reply, but looked down at you touching his hand

“I don’t see any injuries. You’re alright, Sweetheart. I’m gonna clean up the glass, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, but he didn’t look up.

Cleaning up the shattered glass went quickly, but when you finished you noticed Bucky was staring blankly at the floor where you’d cleaned, his blue eyes misty

“Bucky?” You cupped his face, but he still wouldn’t look at you, “Talk to me Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

“N-nothing,” his voice was soft, like he was trying his hardest to keep it from wavering, “I’m fine, Doll.”

“If you can look me in the eyes and say that, I’ll believe you.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” it was almost a chant as he slowly lifted his head, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m–”

As soon as Bucky looked you in the face he burst into sobs, falling to his knees in front of you.

It tore a hole in your chest.

“Oh…” you knelt down in front of him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close, cradling his head against your shoulder, “oh Baby, oh, Bucky…”

He buried his face in your neck as you rocked him from side to side, your fingers carding through his hair, “shhhh, it’s alright, let it out, Baby Boy, let it all out…”

“H-He was my best friend,” Bucky whimpered, “h-he was my best friend, and he…he j-just fucking left me here–!”

“Oh, Baby, I know,” you kissed his temple, “I know. I’m so sorry, Sweet Boy…”

You held him tighter as he dissolved into sobs again.It broke your heart.

You knew that this was good for him, that Bucky had been fighting this for so long

He needed the release, the catharsis, but that didn’t mean it didn’t fill your broken heart with anger.

Anger at Steve for leaving the man in your arms behind in a world he didn’t understand, at the Government agents that treated him like a criminal for things that he had been forced to do when he had no control over his mind and body, at anyone who had ever caused this kind, sweet, gentle, loving man harm and left him unable to feel his emotions properly until he reached his absolute breaking point

When Bucky calmed down again you suggested moving to the couch

“It’ll be a lot more comfortable than the floor, Baby,” you said, gently taking his hand in yours and leading him to the living room

Once you two were seated you wrapped him in your arms again, keeping him close and rocking him.

“Talk to me, Baby, please,” you cupped his face, thumbing away his tears, “tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“It’s… I wasn’t worth it.” Bucky said in a quiet, broken voice, “I told Steve I wasn’t, back when he… when we were on our way to Siberia. He tried to tell me that I was, and being with you, in Wakanda, when I was finally free I started to think that maybe he was right, maybe I was worth saving. That I was deserving of some kind of peace. But then Steve–”

His voice cracked, and you gave him a comforting hug.

“I just keep thinking that if I was really worth what you all went through for me then he– he wouldn’t have left me here alone."

Tears flowed freely again, and you hugged him tightly to you, pressing comforting kisses to his temple

“Shhhhh, Baby Boy, it’s alright,” you whispered, “it’s gonna be alright…”

Bucky shook his head and buried his face further into your neck

“I just… it makes it hard, y’know?” You nodded and kissed his forehead, he took a deep breath and added, “I’m scared. I keep thinking that one day I’m gonna wake up and you’re not gonna be there. T-that you’re gonna realize the same thing he did. That I’m not worth all of this.”

“Oh… Oh no, oh, Bucky…” You rubbed his back, pressing kisses to the top of his head, “oh, Honey…”

You cradled his head against your chest, running your fingers through his hair and hushing him, rocking him from side to side.

Once he’d calmed down slightly you took his face in both hands, stroking his stubbly cheeks.

“Baby? Can you look at me, please?” His sad blue eyes met yours, and you gently wiped the tears from them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Bucky. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Baby. And I’m especially sorry that you were made to think like that.”

Bucky looked you in the eyes. No one had ever said that to him before.

“and speaking as someone who was involved in all of that trouble? You were absolutely worth it. Every minute of it. The two years Sam, Steve, and I spent looking for you, every fight, every bit of time spent on the run, every moment spent waiting for Shuri to okay letting you out of the ice in Wakanda. I would go through every second of it again if it meant that you got to be free, Sweet Boy. Even if you weren’t the man I love, even if you weren’t Steve’s best friend, even if you were just some guy I had no attachment to, I would fight just as hard if it meant you got to be safe and free from those monsters. Because you didn’t deserve HYDRA’s abuse, and you didn’t deserve to be punished for things you couldn’t control.”

He rested his hands over yours, and you pressed your forehead against yours

“I know it’s hard to trust anyone after what Steve did, I know. But I would never, ever leave you alone. I’m with you for the long haul, Sweetheart. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes."

His eyes searched your face, looking for any sign that it wasn’t true, and found nothing but genuine love and care. You gave him a soft sad smile.

“I’ll be here, right by your side, as long as you want me, Baby,” you kissed the tip of his nose, “you aren’t alone anymore, Buck. You’ll never be alone again.”

Bucky dissolved into tears in your arms again

“I-I’m sorry,” he cried over and over into your shoulder, embarrassed at his carrying on, “‘m sorry I keep cryin’...”

“Shhhhh….” you continued rocking him and rubbing his back, “you don’t have to apologize for expressing your emotions, Sweetheart. You’re allowed to feel bad. You’re allowed to let it out. I’ll be here for you.”

You held Bucky until he calmed down, and he let you lead him into the bathroom to clean his face with a cool cloth, not wanting the salt from his tears to irritate his skin, and showering him with affection and love.

When you two finally laid down to sleep that night you held the man you loved as close as humanly possible, pressing little kisses to his hairline and rubbing his back

Bucky nestled into your chest, listening to your heartbeat and relishing the feeling of skin-to-skin contact

“Get some sleep, Baby Boy,” you whispered, “I’ll always be here when you wake up. I love you so much, my Darling.”

Bucky looked up at you, a small but genuine smile on his face.

The first you had seen in the months since Thanos

“I love you too.” he kissed your lips, “goodnight, Doll.”

As Bucky drifted off in your arms, he felt better.

Lighter.

Better than he had in months.

He wasn’t cured, he knew that.

The demons of his past still haunted him, still clawed at the edges of his mind and whispered that he wasn’t worth the pain

But knowing that he wasn’t alone, that you would stay by him and support him through even his darkest days?

That you wouldn’t leave no matter what?

Maybe he could finally start to heal

[carlsdarling]

No Mercy Part II

This was requested a lot. The hate-love-story between Carl and Y/N, who is Negan's daughter, evolves... Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, slightly violent sex (consensual), angst, abusive language

During the following weeks you and Carl just couldn't stop doing two things: Fighting hatefully and fucking each other. It almost became a ritual. And the more violently you argued, the better the ensuing sex, which was always rough. After you spent an evening at Ron's to watch a movie with him and Enid, Carl was convinced that you had been drooling over Ron. "You were checking him out the whole time," he kept angrily accusing you as you headed home to Rick's house. "You probably want to fuck him."

"So what if I am? What's business is it of yours, Carl?" you snapped. "Maybe he's better than you? Not that it's that difficult."

By now you'd reached the house. Carl opened the door, roughly dragged you over the threshold and immediately pushed you into the pantry next to the kitchen, where he ripped off your jeans and panties, shoved you face-first against the wall and without foreplay penetrated you from behind, fucking you with hard thrusts. "Carl, yes, please," you whimpered, pressing against him as your head kept hitting the shelf above you.

He buried his face against your neck to silence his moans. "I've wanted to rail you all evening, but you presented yourself to Ron like a slut! How many times do I have to tell you that you're my personal fucking property?" snarled Carl, pounding even harder, aggressively rubbing your clit with his right hand. He covered your mouth to prevent the other people in the house from waking up as you cum and screamed out loud. " Do you see? See? You hate me, and every time you cum on me you beg for more," he gasped contentedly, enjoying his orgasm. His cum dripped onto the floor as he pulled out of you. Upstairs you continued, the whole night was filled with angry sex, and in the morning you both had quite a few bruises, hickeys and scratches to hide.

Subsequently, the situation between you began to change slowly and almost unnoticeably. You started sneaking into each other's room more and more often in the late evening and eventually having sex in bed. What was new was that you didn't always argue beforehand. Then a few times you found yourselves lying together afterwards, cuddling and exchanging caresses. Whenever you became aware of it, one of you would angrily stop it right there and start a fight, whereupon either you or Carl would storm out of the room and the old ways would be reinstated. You hated Carl, and he hated you, and sex was just a way of expressing that hatred and it had to be violent.

Then the day came when Carl went out with Rick and some others, but they returned without him. "Where's Carl?" you asked in a squeaky voice, looking all around for him.

Rick looked utterly distraught. "We lost him," he muttered.

You felt like you'd been thrown into ice water. "Is he... dead?" For some inexplicable reason, the thought of never seeing Carl again shocked you. Even more unbearable was the idea that he might have turned into a walker, soulless and distorted.

"We don't know, we were separated by a bunch of walkers. We need to get back out there now, with more people, and search for him." Rick ruffled his hair.

For the next few hours you couldn't think clearly, nervously pacing from room to room, and when you finally saw Rick and Michonne approaching the house with Carl between them, you felt sick with relief. Carl looked pale and exhausted, and he was completely sweaty, filthy, and stained with blood and other weird substances. "You stink," was the first thing you said to him, and you turned up your nose. „It’s disgusting.“

"Screw you," he said wearily.

You waited for Carl to go into the bathroom and entered ten minutes later when he turned off the shower. He was sitting on the toilet lid, and was busy patching up his numerous bruises. Hastily he adjusted his bandage to hide his missing eye from you; you had never seen it. "I really thought you got killed, Carl," you blurted out.

He stood up and met your gaze in the mirror. "You would have liked that, wouldn't you?" he asked with a sneer, but there was something else in his beautiful blue eye. The one he still had.

You quickly nodded. "You bet," you agreed with him. "Anyway - I'm disappointed you're still alive," you said venomously, and went to your room.

It wasn't long before Carl showed up to throw you on the bed recklessly and wanted to fuck you. You had hoped he would do so; your whole body was craving him, and eagerly you wrapped your arms around him.

But he stopped the attempt shortly after with his face wrenched in agony. There was a bloody Band-aid stuck to his stomach. "Carl, what is it?" you asked, startled. "Are you in pain?" Before he could stop you, you grabbed the Band-aid and loosened it. It wasn't a bite, just a nasty cut that looked infected. The wound was located just below the scar he already had when he had been shot back then and Hershel had saved his life.

"It's not that bad," Carl claimed, taking the Band-aid away from you and reapplying it to the wound.

"Yes, it is," you countered, "You need antibiotics."

"Why do you even care?" he asked dismissively, frowning.

"Oh, I don't," you promptly returned. "Go and do whatever you want. I couldn't care less how you feel. But you can't rail me in this state anyway, so you're useless, so piss off," you hissed, pushing him away and tossing a pillow at him. Carl gathered up his clothes, showed you his middle finger and left the room - but not without turning around once more, winking at you and mockingly throwing you a kiss. You shook your head with an annoyed grin and switched off the light.

Then everything happened very quickly. The next morning, Rick caught up with you in the hallway as you were about to go to the bathroom. Carl had taken some medicine - in the end, he had listened to you - and now he was fast asleep. "'Get your things together,'" Rick ordered. "You're leaving."

"But... why..."

"Your father's people captured Gabriel," Rick informed you angrily. "The Saviours have a hostage, we have a hostage. We'll trade you."

Stunned, you stuffed your few belongings into a bag, then Rick hustled you into the car and drove you to the main gate. "I'm sorry you didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Carl," Rick said.

"Carl and I hate each other," you said coldly. Rick looked at you with amusement, but made no comment.

After some mutual accusations and insults between him and Negan, you were handed over to your father at the same time Gabriel was walking towards the Alexandria gate. Before you realized it, you were sitting next to your father in the car, and you were on your way back to the Sanctuary.

Negan looked at you from the side. "Are you alright? Have these bastards done anything to you?"

"No, Rick treated me well," you said tersely. You had been caught completely unaware of what had happened. Ten minutes later, you felt the sourness of stomach acid filling your mouth. "Stop the car. Stop the car right now. I'm going to puke," you managed to say. Negan stopped the car, you yanked open the door just in time and vomited onto the asphalt.

"Are you sick?" your father inquired as he restarted the motor. "Maybe the fish from last night was rotten," you evaded the question.

(yessss there will be a part 3... tell me if you liked the plot development 🥰)

[ebongawk]

hii !! i hope you’re well - number 6 and hellcheer for the kissing thing when you have the time please 🫶🫶

6. A Kiss of Relief

Look. He hadn't gone into this whole thing with the expectation of dying. To say he had any expectations at all would be an absolutely asinine claim of which he'd never take ownership.

And yet, as he looked up at Dustin through the portal in the ceiling of the boys' locker room, all he could think was, it has to be me.

There isn't enough time. I won't let her die.

The knifepoint of his spear sliced so easily through the climbing rope they'd dug out of the school's storage locker. Dustin's shout of disdain mostly lost in the screaming bats that had broken through the gymnasium windows.

He'd ask himself when he became the sacrificial beacon of the group, but that, too, would be a stupid question.

Eddie remembered the exact fucking moment.

The group had poured in through the trailer door, exhausted not even beginning to encompass the weight of the entire world that rested on their weary shoulders. Everyone had all but collapsed onto the nearest soft surface, and Eddie gave up his bed so Nancy, Max and Chrissy might have somewhere to sleep. Promising to take first shift, to make sure the music kept playing.

Because it was music that kept Max and Chrissy from literally floating to their deaths.

He'd accidentally discovered that with his ass.

Mere days before, when Chrissy had come over to buy special K and had instead fallen under the lich's spell. When she'd risen off the ground, his pleading screams of her name lost to the impossible trance inflicted by her attempted murderer.

When he'd bumped into Wayne's shitty old record player in his retreat, the needle scratching against Rumours and Fleetwood Mac's Songbird starting up.

Rumours had a home now in Chrissy's Walkman, and Eddie offered to make sure Stevie Nicks kept up her soft lullaby for the first few hours.

He didn't wake anyone else. Instead, sat on the floor beside his bed, he absorbed the way Chrissy's hair spilled across his pillow like a sunrise. A firestorm quieted in the night, softness punctuated by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as notes and lyrics kept the nightmares at bay. She let out these tiny little sounds every now and then, a song pulled from the back of her throat as much needed rest finally fell through her bones. Maybe the thought shouldn't have felt so insane. But still, he took himself aback when he gazed at her and a new realization dawned across the horizon of his consciousness.

I would die for her.

Shocking, yeah. But, as it settled like creeping fog across the forest floor of his brain, it felt right, too. And Eddie, terrified of that ridiculous fucking implication, had written it off as exhaustion.

As he pedaled away from the school as quickly as he possibly could on that blackened bike, though, he realized just how true it was.

Goddamn it.

The bats swarmed, screeching their ear-splitting song as they dove and gnashed their nasty little teeth. They dove, sending the bike flying, and Eddie didn't remember the tumble. Only that he was on his feet again, spear and shield gripped in sweaty hands as he turned toward his reckoning.

He didn't even feel the first bite. Heart pumping adrenaline through his veins, time slowed down as he pushed his body to the limit. Spear swiping and stabbing, shield held aloft and flung.

But there were so many of them. And he was so fucking tired.

All it took was one slip. One wrong step of his boot. Suddenly, he was down on one knee, and the bats saw his partial collapse as the opening it was. Raining down on him like the most ridiculous fucking storm he had never known to expect experiencing.

Every subsequent bite after the first wasn't as easy to ignore. They dug into his ribs, his arms, his legs, tiny teeth like razor blades slipping past flesh. Eddie ripped them off of him, but for every one he managed to tear away, it seemed three more took their place.

Over the screeching victory of his tiny assassins, though, he heard another scream. Just before a firestorm erupted overhead, it pierced that rolling red thunder nearly close enough to touch. Sunrise. A fireball tore the sky asunder, the bats all shrieking in agony. Gross, paper-thin wings catching the flames and spreading like they'd been doused in kerosene, the little fucking monsters ran away from the heat pouring overhead. Eddie rolled to his knees, nearly gagging on pain as he looked up at his savior. Divinity in human form, Chrissy rushed to his side, a can of hairspray in one hand and his lighter in the other as she scorched his attackers with her homemade flamethrower. Finding some reserve of strength buried beneath his stomach, Eddie took his spear in hand again, standing at Chrissy's back and guarding her from anything that might get close enough to rip her weapon away. Throwing himself back into the fray, because now he needed to protect her as she protected him. It felt like a lifetime but was likely only a few seconds later when all of the bats squealed in unison, lifting up a dozen feet in the air before they all came falling like rocks to the ground. Eddie tucked Chrissy into his body, holding his shield above them to keep anything from hitting her.

Panting, it was as though, as soon as he stopped moving for longer than a moment, all of the pain rushed in at once, and Eddie collapsed to the ground. Barely catching himself on his hands and knees.

"Eddie!" Chrissy shouted, falling with him. Further dirtying the grimy pink pants she'd borrowed from Nancy as she carefully pulled him up to a kneeling position. "Oh my God, are you okay? You're-- You're bleeding, God, Eddie, why did you do that? Why didn't you run, you said you would run!"

Hardly able to breathe around the pain - Christ, it felt like his entire body was covered in fucking paper cuts - Eddie still managed a grin.

"You needed more time," he answered, groaning as he sat back on his heels. Jesus, it felt like those bastards had taken a chunk out of his ribs, but, after carefully poking around the area, he deduced that it wasn't as bad as it felt. "What, Cunningham, were you worried about me or something?"

"Yes!" she cried, cupping his jaw in her hands and forcing him to meet those insanely gorgeous storm cloud eyes. "God, Eddie, I-I came rushing back here because I had this insane feeling that you were going to do something stupid. And you did! Why would you do that?"

Did she really have to ask?

"Because you needed more time," he stressed, wrapping his hands loosely around her wrists. Holding her in place, holding the heat of her palms against his face like she alone was the balm to all those scrapes and bruises now littering his body. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and begged her to see. "And I wasn't gonna let him take you, Chrissy. I wasn't gonna let him kill you."

Not when I am fucking desperate to see you live.

Eyes searching his gaze, they danced over his face, his hands, his body, as though trying to find some hidden wound that would unravel him bit by bit beneath her fingers. Her lips parted, a single tear escaping from a duct, but Eddie didn't have a chance to wipe it away before her lips were on his.

Oh. Oh.

She pulled back way too fucking quickly, his name barely having a chance to drip off the tip of her tongue before he was yanking her back in. Swallowing down her little mewl of surprised appreciation, her tongue drifted along the swell of his bottom lip, and Eddie greeted her eagerly.

She tasted of hope. Of fucking belonging and sunrise and relief above all else. Eddie felt all of his pain fading away, and he realized that maybe they called it relief because it was so goddamn close to relive that he would've sworn he was coming back to life in her arms.

God. He needed her more than he needed air.

"Eddie," she whispered after finally pulling away with a gasp. His name spoken like she was tasting it for the first time, rolling it around on her tongue, before a smile broke from her cheeks to let him know how much she liked it.

"Chrissy," he responded with his favorite flavor.

Nothing more was said for a moment. Nothing more needed to be.

He just kissed her again.

kiss prompt!

[runawaybandito]

I wrote another subpar fanfic!

Originally posted to AO3

__________

A Lost Bag

Momo frantically dug through the boxes they just moved and groaned, "Where is it?"

"Miss Ayase, what's wrong?" Ken hurried to her side and lightly pulled on her shoulder, "Can I help you with something?"

The wind picked up, whipping Momo's hair into her face. She let out a frustrated huff and pushed the strands back, "I can't find my bag. It's fine, just go home with everyone else." She stood up straight and turned to head towards their new club's meeting space. "I'm going to go check the storeroom, I'll catch up with you all later."

Ken walked beside her, averting his gaze but getting pushed into her by another strong gust of wind. "Let me help you. We'll find it faster and then you won't have to walk home alone."

"Sure, okay," Momo pulled on her bangs as Ken glanced to her and saw pink creeping into her cheeks. She stopped in front of the old building and yanked the stiff door open.

The two stepped in, immediately met with the musty smell enveloping the small space. Momo flipped the switch by the door a few times, but none of the lights flickered on. "Guess the lightbulbs will have to be replaced before we meet in here. Come on, I think I might have left it in an empty box around here."

There weren't many boxes left, and Ken went to the few gathered on the opposite side of the building. Before he even had to open a box, he saw the bag perched on a shelf. He sighed and smiled, reaching up and grabbing it, "Miss Ayase, I fou-" the door suddenly slammed shut, causing him to drop the bag and washing the room in darkness. "Miss Ayase! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but..." Ken heard her rattle something in the dark, "the doorknob is stuck. Can you kick down the door?"

"I can, but I probably shouldn't. The school probably won't give us another space for our club if we break this one." He felt across the wall until he reached the door. Or rather, until he bumped into Momo. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ayase!" He could feel their sides touching, and his face heated at how much of her he could feel.

He moved to step back, but Momo grabbed the hand closest to her. "Why are you trying to run away?"

Ken's mouth dried and he stuttered as he thought of his answer, "I uh... I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He was pulled over until he could feel Momo's chest against his own. "Okay, but what if I'm not uncomfortable?"

It was possible that she was going to kill him - his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest and he felt like he couldn't remember how to breathe. Ken pulled his hand from Momo's grasp and placed both of his against the door behind her, subsequently trapping her between his arms. Had he been able to see the position they were in, Ken Takakura likely would have sent himself into a panic attack while apologizing and trying to put as much distance between the two of them. As the situation currently stood, he had too many hypotheticals running through his head and far too many ideas of what he wanted to do with Momo. "Please, don't toy with me. I'm an awkward guy, I don't know what you want me to do."

Momo grabbed his uniform and pulled him to have their bodies fully pressed together. "I want you to do something."

Certain that she could hear his pulse with how loud it was pounding in his own ears, Ken leaned forward until he could feel her breath against his lips. "But what do you want, exactly?"

"Just keep doing what you're doing, Okarun." He pressed his weight against her at the sound of his nickname, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to ignore how she felt against him. "Please, I trust you."

Ken hesitantly tilted his head towards Momo's, barely brushing their lips together. After what felt like an eternity, he finally pressed his mouth against hers. Immediately, Momo's hands laced through his hair at the back of his head. Her touch sent shocks down his body, but he smiled into their kiss as he considered that she was likely trying to keep him from running away.

His hands had moved from the wall to rest on either side of Momo's neck and were slowly moving down her shoulders and arms. Dropping from her elbows to her waist, Ken lightly dug his fingers into her sides through her sweater. His hands ventured further until he grazed the bottom of her skirt, and he felt himself harden as he fought the incessant urge to lift it and put a hand between her thighs.

Momo pulled down against the back of Ken's neck, causing him to break the kiss out of confusion, "What are you doing? Do you want me stop?"

"No, I'm just trying to get more comfortable."

She managed to get him to follow her down to the ground, but he started to unbutton his uniform jacket instead of resuming their previous actions. "You need to be careful, you could get your clothes dirty," Ken pulled off his jacket and handed it to Momo, "here, put this under you."

Momo scoffed as she took the jacket, "You know this just makes it so now your clothes are going to get dirty."

"That may be, but I'm not worried about me." She rolled her eyes at the response but complied, spreading the jacket on the ground beside her. She laid back and pulled Ken with her, causing him to jerk back for a moment. "Miss-"

"Quit it with the formality. You're not allowed to address me by my name anymore unless it's by my first name." She tugged on him again, but he resisted.

"Fine," he stuttered, "Momo, what are you doing?" Ken was fighting against the thoughts of Momo on her back underneath him, writhing and in a state of undress. He wouldn't try to go that far in this moment, but he noticed the hardness straining against his pants even more at the idea.

"Nothing, just trust me." She pulled him again, and he finally complied, lowering himself to hover over her.

With shuddering breaths, he kissed her again, more intensely this time. Momo's thighs squeezed against his hips, and Ken groaned into her mouth. He tentatively brushed his tongue against hers, waiting for this to be the point that she'd push him off and tell him get away. Instead, she tangled her fingers into his hair and hooked a leg around his hips, pushing them down against her own like he'd been trying so hard to avoid.

Hands made their way to Momo's thighs, sliding up under her skirt, but still keeping distance from where Ken truly wanted them to be. He reveled in how much of her he was able to hold and how soft her skin felt in his hands. Gripping where her hips met her thighs, he lightly dug in his nails and pulled her hips up as he pressed himself against her. "Okarun," Momo gasped into his mouth.

Ken pulled away enough to rest his forehead against hers. One hand went to her inner thigh and his thumb traced circles where he could feel the warmth between her legs. "Momo, I'm going to need you to not say things like... that."

"I don't know what you mean," The smirk was obvious in her voice, "you're the one making making me do that." She took the hand still on her hip and slid it under the hem of her shirt.

"Momo," Ken squeaked out, "what are you doing?" He kept his hand still on the skin of her stomach, scared to move it and cross a line.

"You don't have to be so scared, I won't bite." She grabbed his hand and moved it to cup her breast over her bra. "I told you, I trust you."

Ken was thankful that the dark hid them from eachother, as he was sure he wouldn't be nearly as confident if he could see the way she was looking at him - that was much better left to his imagination. He removed his hand from under her shirt, leading to a protest from Momo that he cut off by biting her lower lip, eliciting a gasp from her. He kissed down her jaw and to her neck while his free hand untied the bow around her neck and freed the top button of her blouse. His hand went back to push up her shirt and slid under her bra, while he bit and kissed the newly exposed skin around her collarbone.

Ken wasn't entirely sure that he could believe what was happening. He moved his head back to press his mouth against hers, covering her gasp as he ground his erection against her. He was kissing the girl he loved, and she was kissing him back and asking him to touch her more. He could imagine how depraved they looked with him on top of Momo and between her legs, one hand up her skirt and the other in her bra. The mental image sent a shiver down his spine. He was certain that any moment, he'd wake up and this would have all been dream.

A metallic clinking sound came from the door and the pair quickly scrambled away from eachother, trying to fix their disheveled clothes as quickly as they could. The door swung open and Ayase's grandmother stood there, lit cigarette in her mouth and wearing a deadpan expression. "It's almost dark out and you idiots decided to lock yourselves in a storeroom. Do you know how long it took me to find you at this damn school after Jiji said you guys didn't walk home with everyone else?" Ken and Momo sat there, still shocked that they were almost caught. "You need to tell the school to have maintenance replace this doorknob, the lock is rusted. I managed to get it open this time, but it's a real safety hazard." She glanced between the two of them and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Quit your gawking and get your asses up so we can go home."

"Yes ma'am," Ken quickly muttered and basically sprinted out of the building.

Momo took her time getting up and grabbed her bag from where Ken had dropped it before standing beside him. "Whatever, can you give the lecture a rest so we can go home already?"

"Watch the attitude," Seiko said with a smile.

The three started back home with Momo and Ken following behind Seiko. Ken bumped his shoulder against Momo's and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and looking anywhere but at her to hide the growing smile on his face. They walked back together in a comfortable silence.

[kairismess]

i'll try my best for you. – college!bokuto x gn!honors student!reader

it was never a surprise that kotaro bokuto isn't the best student out there. he had scored pretty low on... most, if not all, the exams, and was on the brink of failing this semester. you didn't know what that problem was like, it felt like a completely different universe for you to receive anything that bad–you couldn't let yourself fall behind, it wasn't in your nature. your professors noticed your drive and enthusiasm for studying, and out of pity and desperation, they offered you extra credit to teach the "lost cause" that was this eccentric fellow, who... was rubbing an open book on his head. "...what are you doing?" "shh... i'm soaking up the knowledge. kuroo told me this is how he studies, and he gets such high grades!" you sighed as you pulled up a chair and sat next to him. you lifted the book off his head and noticed his pretty, coffee-colored eyes with dark yellow, honey undertones to them. he smiled up at you, practically beaming; hints of pink on his cheeks glowed, making you a little warm in the face, yourself. overtime, you both had grown accustomed to each other–even though you both had your misunderstandings and spats at times–bokuto sincerely meant well and wanted to do better at school. not for himself, but rather, for the one who's put all this effort to teach him and help him get better: you.

even on days off, you'd sometimes see bokuto studying at the library, which unsettled you a bit because the sight was... a bit uncanny, a bit worrisome. but when you'd hear bokuto scream out his signature, "hey, hey, hey!" in the once quiet and peaceful room–beibg subsequently shushed by the librarian who gave him a nasty look–bokuto shied back behind his books and smiled to himself all giddy. "hey, hey, hey!" he whispered to himself, finally understanding the topic you nearly lost all patience teaching him. after a week of catching bokuto studying without him knowing, it seemed like he was already a little advanced, and very well-read on the topics you were tutoring him about.

he chuckled when you praised him, pushing back the fake glasses he bought to look smarter on his face, smirking at you. "that's because i have such a wonderful tutor..." he buttered you up, smiling widely. "or, maybe because... you spent more time and effort on your studies, even without me?" you asked him with a knowing grin, making bokuto sweat a bit, thinking you might've found out already his secret. he cleared his throat and looked away from you, whistling and denying your allegations. "why do your eyes have slight bags underneath them?" "i-i... got into using makeup recently!" "makeup...?" "y-yeah! akaashi does... eyeliner for me, it's really... really pretty on me, no?!" he asks you with a trembling smile that faked confidence.

you could clearly see through him, but you didn't mind letting him indulge in him making you feel like the best tutor the world had to offer him, and in a sense, you were. it wasn't because of how well you taught him or how high his marks were after teaching him, it was because... he now does his best, even when it seems impossible to do, because he knows you'd be proud of him if he did better than before, even by just the tiniest bit. nothing would make him any happier than you feeling proud of him, of yourself, for teaching him; because when he saw you smile at his little coverup... he noticed a brightness in them that he only witnessed just now. you were proud of him, even if you didn't say it–and he... felt over the moon when you congratulated him for his passing scores, he screamed again in excitement and joy in the library, making the librarian shush him again–their eyes shooting daggers at him.

"i promise you," he whispered as he leaned closer to your ear, grinning from ear-to-ear, a gleeful mess, "i'll do my very best, always. these exams won't be that scary this time around... and that's because i'll try my best, better than the best... i'll try my best for you." he finished with a blush and a smile on his face, unable to contain his excitement. you were going to correct him on his grammar with that 'better' and 'best' declaration, but you decided to let bokuto express just how dedicated he is to making you proud of him–to give your efforts meaning. "well... good luck, bokuto." you told him with a smile, making bokuto freeze up and his heart momentarily skipping a beat, and suddenly thrumming in his chest that he felt it could leap out of his chest any minute now. "y-you bet! bring it on, exams! i don't fear you!" he screamed in the library, with you trying to quiet him down as the librarian was about to throw a book at him to sit him down and silence him. oh, this boy... he had a way of making you feel like the smartest person in the world. to him, of course you were–but to know he was doing his best for you... it made your heart patter a bit. it was a good feeling, though a little strange; maybe this feeling would be... a little more than just that, only time will tell.