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band--psycho · 4 months ago

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Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time.

You two didn’t get along.

Sylus knew this.

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip.

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious.

You were planning something.

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions.

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed.

But it wasn’t.

There were no stray feathers.

No shards of metal.

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you.

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it.

And instead of his home being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent.

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall.

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends.

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling.

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes.

He needed answers.

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention.

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you.

You changed him.

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence.

Everything.

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you.

Needed to see you.

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that.

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume.

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully.

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling.

Jealousy however was.

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto.

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends?

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd.

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked.

Mephisto though was different.

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken.

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up.

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him.

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making.

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions.

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him.

He was becoming as infuriating as you were.

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in.

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you.

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts.

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed.

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him.

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips.

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way.

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto.

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips.

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together.

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus.

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers.

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him.

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment.

You already knew why.

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you.

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear.

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear.

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you.

“Thought you two didn’t get along?” He asked quietly.

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another.

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan.

A plan to make Sylus jealous.

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him.

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart.

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question.

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you.

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips.

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss.

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly.

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed.

Taglist:

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#sylus x reader #sylus imagines #sylus imagine #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #lnds sylus #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace imagine #l&ds imagines

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felassan · 1 year ago

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[source (Senior Reporter at Kotaku), linked Kotaku article, two, 'FC 24's performance link', three, four, @/N7SeveranceDay (source of the last two images, "Account supporting BioWare employees laid off in 2023."), five, six, Polygon tweet, Polygon article]

"BioWare Continues to Refuse to Pay Severance" statement transcript:

“BioWare Continues to Refuse to Pay Severance On August 23 of this year, BioWare eliminated “approximately 50 roles at BioWare”. Following the layoffs, seven ex-BioWare employees engaged the services of R. Alex Kennedy to represent their interests, stating that the amount of severance offered was insufficient under Alberta common law. Counsel for the employees has attempted to reach a compromise that would avoid requiring lengthy court proceedings, but BioWare’s lawyers refused any offers to negotiate and settle out of court. The basis of Kennedy’s claim is that according to Alberta precedents and under Canadian law, these employees should be receiving approximately 1.7 months of severance per year of service they gave to BioWare. BioWare has now filed a Statement of Defence, which argues that the seven terminated employees are only entitled to two weeks of severance per year spent in service to BioWare, because of a contract provision that Kennedy says is not enforceable. The filing means BioWare will be taking these former employees to court rather than working towards finding an out of court resolution. The developers involved in the suit have expressed their disappointment: - “We are disappointed that BioWare prefers stalling and intimidation tactics to fair dealing with people who have given years, and in some cases decades, of dedication and hard work to the company.” - “We believe they are using intimidation and stalling tactics to try and get us to drop out. A lot of the more junior employees and those with families, who had more monetary pressure on them, could not risk waiting on a court case that may take many months more to resolve, and have already had to drop out.” - “At the time of the layoffs, BioWare offered us professional assistance in finding new employment, and an additional payment, but ONLY on the condition that we signed an agreement saying we cannot talk about any details of the settlement, and that we would completely waive any right to legal action or even to complain in any way about anyone associated with BioWare now or ever in the future. Tactics like that sure make me think that BioWare knows it is in the wrong.” - “Despite what they publicly announced when they laid us off, this process has been anything but empathetic, respectful, and communicative.” The latest BioWare layoffs were the third round so far this year, and many of the developers affected even in earlier rounds are still searching for work, though some have started to find new positions. Regardless of employment status, the members of the current lawsuit state they remain determined to pursue BioWare in court, regardless of their employment status: - “We strongly believe that if Dragon Age: Dreadwolf does not do as well as BioWare or EA wants at launch, there will be more, even larger layoffs. Therefore, regardless of our own well-being, we believe it is important to hold BioWare responsible and get a clear decision on what settlement amount is legal. We’re no longer part of the development team, so the best way we can help our former teammates now is to hold BioWare accountable and ensure that the next group who is laid off are not treated as poorly as we were.” November 7th marks “N7 Day”, which is a fan celebration of BioWare’s Mass Effect games featuring Commander Shepard and the crew of the Normandy. The developers involved in the lawsuit are hoping N7 Day this year will be a reminder to BioWare of the importance of loyalty to your crew, and hope fans can have a little fun and help express their support with memes and images using an #N7SeveranceDay hashtag. The ex-employees involved in the suit are all based in Canada and have an average of 14 years at BioWare.”

[source]

You can express your support using the hashtag #N7SeveranceDay.

Edit: [Part 2/update] [more on the Keywords topic]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect 5 #signal boost #N7SeveranceDay #worker solidarity #labor rights #pls note that i did not create any of the images in this post #or the N7Severance twitter account. pls see source links

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mariacallous · 1 month ago

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Not long after the November election, new members of Congress gather for a couple of weeks of orientation. Consistent with that tradition, Sarah McBride, a Delaware Democrat, made the short trip from Wilmington to D.C. to meet with her fellow first-termers. At a hotel in the capital, she learned about the lottery for office space, how to assemble a staff, and the intricacies of the legislative process. As the first transgender member of Congress in history, she also experienced an orientation in naked aggression. Within days of her arrival, Nancy Mace, a Republican from South Carolina, introduced a resolution that would restrict access to all “single-sex facilities” on Capitol Hill to those of the “corresponding biological sex.” In other words, Mace sought a bathroom bill—and made clear that she “absolutely” intended it as a reaction to McBride.

“I’m not going to stand for a man, you know, someone with a penis, in the women’s locker room,” Mace, who had claimed to be “pro-transgender rights” as recently as last year, said of her new proposal. She also added an odd, pseudo-feminist twist: “It’s offensive that a man in a skirt thinks that he’s my equal.” Mace found support among Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who, according to Politico, told colleagues that she would fight McBride were the two of them ever to meet in a women’s bathroom on the Hill.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was among those who leapt to McBride’s defense, calling the bill “disgusting.” McBride, for her part, refused to take the bait, saying that she would “follow the rules as outlined by Speaker Johnson, even if I disagree with them.”

McBride was born in Wilmington; her father was a lawyer and her mother a high-school guidance counselor. At American University, she was active in Democratic politics and worked on Beau Biden’s campaign for Delaware attorney general. In her senior year, she served as student-body president, and ended her term by publishing a moving coming-out article for the Eagle, the A.U. paper, called “The Real Me.”

McBride had been hesitant to acknowledge her trans identity, she explained, because that might prevent her from pursuing a career in politics. “I wrestled with the idea that my dream and my identity seemed mutually exclusive; I had to pick,” she wrote. In the end, she realized that she would have to embrace both: “My life was passing me by, and I was done wasting it as someone I wasn’t.”

In 2020, McBride was elected to the Delaware State Senate. And this November she was elected to the United States House. At the start of our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, she seemed determined to keep her cool, despite the insult she had just suffered. “I think in many ways I got a fuller orientation this week, where I actually got to see not just the nuts and bolts of Congress,” she said drily, “but also some of the performance of Congress, too.”

Well, let’s talk about that. Nancy Mace, one of your colleagues now, immediately came forward and decided that this would be a good time, a perfect time, to introduce a bathroom bill, all directed at you. How did you take this piece of what can only be called aggression?

I always knew that there would be some members of the Republican caucus who would seek to use my service representing the greatest state in the Union in Congress as an opportunity for them to distract from the fact that they have absolutely no real policy solutions for the issues that actually plague this country. And, in some cases, to grab headlines themselves. I was not surprised that there was an effort to politicize an issue that no one truly cares about—what bathroom I use. I did think that it might wait until January. It happened a little earlier than I anticipated. I was still getting lost in the tunnels of the Capitol when we got the news that this was coming.

What was your first reaction to it?

“Here we go.” Throughout the campaign, I really focussed my campaign on my record in the Delaware General Assembly: of passing paid leave, expanding access to health care, and the kitchen-table issues that I know keep voters across Delaware up at night that I will be working on in Congress, like lowering the cost of housing, health care, and child care. But, as I got questions about the added responsibilities that sometimes come with being a first, the first thing I would always say is that I know that the only way I can do right by any community I’m a part of is to quite simply be the best member of Congress for Delaware that I can be, to be an effective member working on all of the issues that matter.

When I was watching this play out on television, reading about it, in the past week or two, I looked up how the first Black member of Congress was received, Hiram Revels. This is in the nineteenth century. He was treated with a great deal more respect than you were. I understand your desire to be poised about this, and straightforward, and to move the issues to the issues you ran on. But I wonder what your emotional reaction was to what you could only have taken as an enormous gesture of deep disrespect.

Look, I’m human, and it never feels good to be used as an opportunity to get headlines. It never feels good to have people talk about deeply personal things. I think I knew what I was signing up for, though; I know what the Republican Party in this country, in Congress, has become.

Which is what?

A party that is more interested in performance art and being professional provocateurs than being serious legislators and a serious governing party. I think they have come to the conclusion that they are able to get enough votes if they occasionally throw red meat to folks, because that red meat might satiate what is an authentic crisis of hope that I think people across this country face right now.

I think we have to be crystal clear in calling them out on what they are doing, and pull the curtain back to really dull the effect that these manufactured culture wars have on the American voter. Some people do receive this red meat, and it resonates with them—it makes them feel better, but it doesn’t actually address the real pain in their lives. And I think we should be calling that out and obviously modelling an approach to governing that genuinely solves the real problems that people are facing that create a level of insecurity and fear that allows for culture wars to satiate at least something instantaneously.

But I truly believe that if we solve problems, if we are serious, people respond. I’ve seen that in Delaware as we have passed paid leave, raised the minimum wage. Voters here in Delaware are sort of bucking this national trend. We’ve expanded our majorities both in 2022 and 2024 in the Delaware General Assembly, I believe, as a byproduct of a record of results that voters are responding to, and a message focussed on kitchen-table issues and economic issues. And it’s allowed us to not only expand our majorities but to break through the culture wars that the Republican Party has pursued. Because we’re in Delaware, in the Philadelphia media market—we are getting those anti-trans Trump ads pumped into our state like we were in Pennsylvania. And yet, despite that, running on a message of paid leave, higher minimum wage, union protections, a trans candidate not only won here in Delaware but actually outperformed every major Democrat running for major office in Delaware statewide.

And yet the notorious ads that ended with “Kamala Harris is for they/them, President Trump is for you”—ads that were oriented around anti-trans sentiment—not only did they occur, they worked. Certainly, they worked in the interpretation of not only the Republicans but the press at large. They ran them over and over again and poured millions of dollars into them.

So, first off, I think there are two things. One, this country is still entering into a conversation about trans people. This country still is at a Trans 101 spot. And one of the things I think Democrats have to be more mindful of is that leaders should always be out in front of public opinion, but, in order to foster change in public opinion, we’ve got to be within arm’s distance of the public so that we can pull them along with us. If we get too out ahead of it, we lose our grip and we’re unable to pull the public with us.

Is that what’s responsible for your calm in talking about this? I remember very well that Barack Obama, when he was running for State Senate in Illinois, got a questionnaire, and one of the questions was “Are you for gay marriage?” He didn’t say yes. Now, everything I know about Barack Obama tells me that, at that time, a clear “no” was not his real sentiment, but that he didn’t want to get too far out ahead, for political reasons. He clearly changed later on. Is that part of your calculus in the way you talk about this? Because Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez answered Nancy Mace in much more vitriolic terms.

I think there is a space for diversity of messengers and a diversity of message. I would never presume what was in Barack Obama’s heart and mind on the issue of marriage equality. Many people authentically evolved. What we do know is that, as the movement for marriage equality moved forward, the most effective messengers for marriage were not same-sex couples, were not parents of same-sex couples or kids of same-sex couples. The most effective messengers for marriage equality were those who evolved. And they were effective because they gave a permission structure to people who had not yet gotten there that it was O.K. to be uncomfortable, it was O.K. to be on the other side of the issue. You weren’t a bad person; you weren’t wrong.

My motto has always been: I’ll extend grace so long as people demonstrate growth. But that is a two-way street. And I think that we are shooting ourselves in the foot, as people who believe in progress, when we create no incentive for people to grow, because they perceive that they will be permanently guilty for having been wrong. We create no space for them to grow by extending no grace for them to actually walk there. I think one of the reasons why we see people pushed into their respective corners is because you say something that’s deemed problematic, and you are immediately hounded by one side and immediately embraced by the other side. Human nature is to—when faced with that degree of extreme binary reactions—go to the people who are validating you instantaneously. We unintentionally actually push people further and further into their own corners and into their negative opinion by responding with a degree of condemnation and vitriol that creates no incentive and space for them to grow.

But I actually want to say something on those ads, because you did say the key sentence in that ad. It wasn’t the surgery point, it wasn’t the undocumented-immigrant point, it wasn’t the trans point, it was the concept in that line that Kamala Harris, according to the ad, was for a small group of people, and Donald Trump was there for “you.” The lesson of this moment, of this last week, is that we should be flipping that script. Because that’s the authentic thing—Kamala Harris was for everyone. And Democrats are for everyone. And every single time Republicans focus in on a small vulnerable group of people, not only are they trying to distract from the fact that they have no real solutions—not only are they trying to employ the politics of misdirection, to move your attention away from the fact that in that same moment they’re trying to pick the pocket of American workers, undermine union protections, and fleece seniors by privatizing Medicare through the back door—but every bit of time and energy that is diverted to attack trans people, that diverts the attention of the federal government away toward attacking trans people, is time and energy that is not being spent on you. It’s time and attention that’s not being spent on raising your wages or improving your benefits or lowering the cost of living. These attacks have costs. Republicans are focussed on attacking a small group of people, and we are here to actually address the issues that you care about.

You’ve now had a week with your new colleagues, and I wonder what kind of support, or the opposite, you felt in your orientation sessions after Nancy Mace made the statement she did.

I have been overwhelmed and heartened by the love and the support of my Democratic colleagues. It was stunning. I got to Washington, and I’m at orientation. I’m grateful that I had a week before all of this started, because I had a week to just marvel at the fact that I was there. I had a week to marvel at the fact that I am serving in a body that Abraham Lincoln served in. One of the first nights we were there, we gathered in Statuary Hall, which is the Old Hall of the House, which is where Abraham Lincoln served. And then, after we gathered there, we walked onto the floor of the United States House of Representatives, where they moved in 1857, just before the Civil War broke out. And we sat in the chairs and I thought, This is the space where the Thirteenth Amendment and the Fourteenth Amendment were passed. This is the space where women got the right to vote. This is the space, these are the chairs. This is the job of the people who voted to pass the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. And you feel this awesome responsibility, not just to deliver on the tangible policies for the constituents you serve in that moment, but you also feel that deep responsibility as you realize that you are one of a little more than five hundred people who have the responsibility to be stewards of a democracy—of the longest ongoing democracy in the world. That is an awe-inspiring responsibility.

I’m really grateful that I had that opportunity. But what was made that much more meaningful was that in that second week, as all of this noise happened—as I continued to be focussed on the actual work that I was there to do—the love and the support that came in from my Democratic colleagues really reinforced what I had already been hearing, which is that that caucus is a family.

And what about the Republican side? Did you get any support from there?

Yes. Look, there was a lot unsaid, but there was kindness and clear intentionality to say, “Welcome to Congress. It’s wonderful to serve with you.” That was quite a contrast to some of the other behavior we saw that week.

People actually coming up to you from the Republican side and embracing you in one way or another?

Yes. Staff and members.

The Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, released a statement that said all single-sex facilities are for people of that “biological” sex. You responded to this on X, formerly Twitter (it’s interesting that you’re still on Twitter!), by calling this a distraction and saying that you’ll follow the rules as outlined by Johnson. But what do you say to people in the trans community who think you didn’t go far enough?

I understand that, at a moment where you are scared, you want to see someone fight. I understand that when you are a first, there are a lot of people who never dreamed that something like this would be possible, who are living on that journey with you. And so they feel very deeply the experience of discrimination. They feel very viscerally the experience of disrespect. I think what I would say is, This was not done to bar me from restrooms. This was done to invite me to take the bait and to fight. I am maintaining my power by turning the other cheek and doing what I promised Delawareans I would do, which is to focus on the job in front of me. Yes, when that calls for me to defend my L.G.B.T.Q. constituents, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend workers in my state, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend retirees in my state, I will do that. But I should not be the issue.

You must have anticipated, if not this, then something like it. And of course you are a first, a historical first. Do you face a lot of threats?

I think one of the problems in our politics right now is the level of toxicity has resulted in far too many people seeking to solve political disputes not at the ballot box but through violence. I am certainly not alone in Congress in having to think through that. I think it’s very early. There have been moments throughout my life where I have had to be cognizant. I’ve never had a job where I have not received death threats. Literally, I have never had a job—even when I was in my first, junior-level position.

How do you handle them?

Well, fortunately, we’ve got great law enforcement here in Delaware that I have worked with over the course of this campaign and throughout my time in the State Senate. Look, one of the things that I grappled with when I decided to run for this position is the risk that comes with being a first at this level. Even though I didn’t run to be a first, there’s obviously risk that comes with it. And there was a moment where I almost didn’t do it. Because of the fear.

Tell me about that. Was it a specific incident or just a generalized fear?

There were some rumors about what some far-right-wing groups might try to do, should I run.

When did this come up?

This was before I announced. There was a lot of speculation about me running.

So what within you allowed you to make the leap and declare yourself a candidate for Congress?

A couple of things. First off, I think that we delude ourselves into thinking that people don’t take these types of steps without fear. People aren’t fearless. Bravery only comes into play when you face those fears, when you pursue something despite the fears. I really do believe that we are at an inflection point where we need a politics of grace in this country if we are going to have any chance at not only restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue, which is fundamentally necessary in a democracy, but actually making government work better. I genuinely felt like I had something to contribute in that respect. I think I know how to get things done. I know how to legislate.

But you’re going to have to embody grace—and there’s every sign that you already do—but with a President who says, publicly, something like this: “Your kid goes to school and a few days later comes home with an operation.” That’s the President of the United States, come January 20th. How do you combat that, and all that’s behind it, and embody grace?

I think a couple of things, and I think this extends beyond Donald Trump. So I’m going to step back a little bit. I think Democrats struggle with extending one of our basic principles—which is that no one is their worst act, no one is their worst belief—to people on the other side of the political divide. I’m not talking about Donald Trump right now. I’m talking about Republicans. The question here is not how do I demonstrate grace in the face of Donald Trump; it’s how do I demonstrate grace in a world where people that I work with—where even people that I represent—hold positions and beliefs about who I am that are personally hurtful, potentially.

I think all of us need to do a better job of seeing the humanity of people on the other side of the aisle. Because I think what happens in this country right now is: The left says to the right, “What do you know about pain, white straight man? My pain is real, as an L.G.B.T.Q. person.” And the right says to the left, “What do you know about pain, college-educated, cosmopolitan élite? My pain is real, in a post-industrial community ravaged by the opioid crisis.” And I know that, when I am upset, the worst thing that someone can say to me, even if it is said with the best of intentions, is “It’s not as bad as you think.” Any therapist will tell you that the first step to healing is to have your pain seen and validated. And I think all of us have to do a better job of recognizing that people don’t have to be right in our mind for what they’re facing to be wrong. And people don’t have to be right in our minds for us to try to right that wrong. That comes down to sort of a core recognition that every single person is more than just one thing about them. And every single person is more than even beliefs that might personally hurt many other people. And the other thing I’ll say on that is to a similar point: early on in my career, I went viral for something.

Do you remember what it was?

Ironically enough, I was an advocate. It was a selfie in a bathroom in North Carolina that I was technically barred from being in.

I see.

The vitriol that came back to me as a twentysomething-year-old was so dehumanizing and so cruel and so mean. It was the closest in my life that I have ever been to suicide becoming a rational thought. I wasn’t suicidal, but it was the first moment where I just went, I want to end this miserable experience.

What was coming at you?

I mean just the level of online bullying and harassment. It was amazing to me that people—person after person—telling me to kill myself could actually hurt me. But it was an onslaught. And, again, I was twenty-five. I was new to all this, and I thought, Maybe I don’t have skin thick enough for this. I sort of went on a journey to understand the psychology of trolling and bullying. I think it was a “This American Life” podcast by a writer who talks a lot about her own weight and grapples with her own body image in a really public and vulnerable way, talking about the experience that she had writing about that hurt and getting outreach from one of her worst bullies and trolls online—someone who had created a Twitter account as her deceased father to troll her from—who opened up to her about what was motivating him. And, listening to that conversation, it really helped me internalize a truth that has allowed me to find balance and grace in the face of hatred or cruelty. And that was: Everyone deals with an insecurity. Everyone deals with something that society has told them that they should be ashamed of or that they should hide. And the thing about me is that I have taken that insecurity, that thing that society has said you should be ashamed of and you should keep quiet—and I’ve not only accepted it but I walk forward from a place of pride in it. Bullies see that. They see that individual agency and conquering my own fears and insecurities, and they’re jealous of that. That has allowed me to find compassion for folks who respond to me in sometimes the way that they do, to recognize that I hope, too, they can find the power to overcome whatever pain is plaguing them.

And so much so that when Nancy Mace made the comments that she did, and put forward the bill that she did—are you able to see it in those terms and not receive the attacks with the same despair that you did when you were in your twenties?

Yes. Yes.

That’s an enormous transformation.

I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt, but, yes, I am not distracted in the same way that I was.

“Distracted” is a small word for it. I mean, what you felt in your twenties must’ve been a lot worse than “distracted,” no?

Yeah. I am able to contextualize it and not feel the pain as much. Again, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, but I am able to work through it.

How? That’s a very hard thing. Is it therapy? Is it maturation? Is it living in your skin ten years longer? What is it?

I think the last two: I think it’s maturation, and I think it’s just finding a confidence in myself that allows me not to internalize. I really do seek to find compassion for the people who are acting out, who say the things that they do, because that does help me. That does help me to try to see and understand where a person is coming from, even if the action itself explicitly or implicitly is not well-intentioned, even if it’s being done for cynical purposes—to try to understand that there’s still a person behind that and maybe there’s something in their life that has pushed them to engage in the way that they’re engaging.

In a certain number of weeks, you’re not only going to have to hear about Nancy Mace, you’re going to have to work with her. And you talk a lot about “working across the aisle,” which is a phrase that we hear from politicians all the time. This takes on new levels of meaning—“working across the aisle with Nancy Mace.” Can you do it?

Well, I look forward to working with colleagues on the Republican side of the aisle who are serious about the work that they’re doing. Who have disagreements with me, perhaps profound disagreements with me, but who are serious about getting things done.

For the first time in our conversation, I sense you’re reluctant to answer the question directly. With all respect.

I will work with anyone who’s willing to work with me. And I don’t know this individual member of Congress—I had barely heard of her before this. I will never say that anyone is beyond redemption.

I want to zoom out a bit now and talk about your own unique path to politics and congress. Your late husband, Andrew Cray, was an L.G.B.T.Q.+ health advocate and attorney. What kind of work did he focus on, and what of his legacy can be seen in your own political career and direction?

Andy was the kindest, smartest, and—this is very important for me in a partner—the goofiest person that I had ever met. Just a really good and decent person.

How did you meet?

We bumped into each other at a White House Pride reception during the fourth year of the Obama Administration, 2012. After that, he reached back out to me on social media, on Facebook, and he said that he thought we’d get along “swimmingly.” I thought, Who the hell in their twenties says the word “swimmingly”? But clearly someone I want to spend some time with. So we went out on a date, and I fell in love pretty quickly.

Was he already sick?

No. He was an attorney, as you mentioned, working on health policy, and he was actually working on the implementation of the Affordable Care Act. He was a brilliant mind, but also—and I think this goes back to our conversation about grace—he was so principled. I remember we had a debate once where he won me over—where we had a debate about whether it was appropriate to out anti-L.G.B.T.Q. politicians who were in the closet themselves. I was of the mind that their hypocrisy called on us to out them. And he was of the mind that the principle that we are fighting for—that everyone should be able to live their life fully and freely, be able to live their sexual orientation and gender identity, the way they see fit and the way they need to—if that is not an unbreakable first principle, then what is? And principles only matter when you have seemingly altruistic reasons to violate them. He was someone of just immense grace, principled grace.

He got sick about a year into our relationship. He developed a sore on his tongue and went in thinking it was just a benign growth. He had a little minor surgery to remove the benign growth, which was aborted in the middle of the procedure as they realized perhaps that it was something more. About a week later, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. It was a shock to both of us. I mean, we were both young invincibles, something that he had written about as he worked on the A.C.A., right? We never would’ve imagined that cancer would enter our lives in our mid-twenties, but we knew from the very start how lucky we were. He knew in particular, given his work, how lucky he was to have health insurance. And we were both very lucky to have flexibility with our jobs that allowed Andy to get care: a twelve-hour surgery that left him having to relearn how to talk, how to eat, how to breathe. I was lucky to be there by his side to care for him, to suction his tracheostomy tube, to tend to his wounds, to hold his hand through the absolute fear.

And then eventually, when his cancer turned out to be terminal, to be there by his side, to marry him, and to walk him to his passing, which happened a couple of days after we were fortunate enough to get married in our building. My brother, who’s a radiation oncologist, said to me, “I’ve seen a lot of people pass away from cancer. And one thing you should try to take stock of over the weeks ahead, as Andy’s health deteriorates, is that you are going to bear witness to acts of amazing grace that will fill your life.” And truly that grace and those miracles were everywhere. I think it has fundamentally shifted my perspective on the world and my ability to see that grace, to see beauty and tragedy, and to recognize that hope, as an emotion, only makes sense in the face of hardship.

In other words, you’re thinking about him all the time through this?

Yes. Yes.

And what does that do for you?

It makes me feel less alone in navigating this. It makes me feel more confident in what I’m doing and how I’m trying to go about this. There’s certainly things that I wish I could talk to him about and get his perspective on, but I try to take the lessons from our couple of years together and try to draw those lessons into action in this moment.

We began our conversation with you talking about how moved you were to be in the halls of Congress for the first time as a soon-to-be member, and seeing and sensing all that had happened in progressive terms, in liberatory terms, over time and in previous centuries. My guess is that this is not going to characterize the next two years for you in Congress. The Democratic Party, in large measure, will be fighting a rear-guard action against all kinds of initiatives by a Trump Presidency in a Republican Congress. How do you anticipate the coming next two years? What kind of role will the Democrats and you play? What will be your day-to-day life, do you think?

Well, there’s no question that we’ve got our work cut out for us. There’s no question that we’re going to have to push back on a lot of damaging and dangerous policies.

But, look, I think the biggest challenge for us is not that we understand that there’s a fight. And we will do the work. The challenge is going to be to summon the hope necessary to see that fight through. I think that one of the challenges that we have in this country right now, particularly for Democrats, is that, really since the nineteen-sixties, it has felt like if we simply work for it, if we vote for it, if we volunteer, if we share our stories, if we lift our voices, that we can then inevitably bend the arc of the moral universe toward justice. And we felt that, I think particularly, in 2008 and when we elected Barack Obama, and then A.C.A. passed, and marriage equality became a law of the land. It just felt like there was this sort of unfolding sense of great progress.

It feels different right now. It doesn’t feel like, if we simply work for it and fight for it, that change will come, that things will work out. We can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. But the other thing that I thought about, as I sat in that chair on the floor of the House, was about not only the elected officials that served there but all of the advocates and activists and citizens who lived through those different chapters in our country’s history. We have to recognize that that sense of inevitability with hard work that we felt twenty years ago, thirty years ago—that’s the exception in our country’s history. Every single previous generation of Americans has been called to conquer odds much greater than the ones that we’re facing right now. And they had every reason to believe that change would not come. They could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Enslaved people in the eighteen-fifties had no reason to believe that an Emancipation Proclamation was on the horizon. Unemployed workers during the early days of the Great Depression had never heard of a New Deal. Patrons at the Stonewall Inn never knew of a country where they could live openly and authentically as themselves. And yet they persevered. They summoned their hope, they found that light, and ultimately they changed the world.

The narrative you describe is very, how do I put it—Obamian? It reminds me of Obama’s speech in Selma, the last one he gave there as President, about a kind of parade of American heroic advance. And when I talk to a lot of younger people in my office, in my life, in my family, they don’t all share the sense of determined hope that you do. There’s a good deal of depression—if not giving up, then a kind of sense that these are going to be very dark times to come. And with all the emergencies surrounding us, at home and abroad, and environmentally, it’s very hard to muster hope. As a politician, as a member of Congress, what do you tell them?

You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the reasons for hopelessness of an enslaved person. You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the insecurity and the fear of workers in the midst of the Great Depression, and a country that very easily could have fallen into totalitarianism and fascism, as many liberal democracies around the world were falling into that, in the early thirties.

Hope is not always an organic emotion. Sometimes we have to consciously find it and consciously summon it. And, yes, there are big challenges right now. Maybe those challenges are insurmountable. Maybe we will be, because of social media, incapable of restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue. Maybe because of the culture that we live in right now, we will no longer be able to have conversations across disagreement. Maybe because of unchecked wealth and corporate power, we won’t be able to conquer climate change. The list goes on. Maybe. But we would be the first generation of Americans to give up on this country, and we would be the first generation of Americans who were unable to find the path forward. And I just don’t believe that we are. And I certainly believe that we don’t have to be.

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notherpuppet · 11 months ago

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I know they’re probably not going to go into this (which i understand, there’s only so much time in an episode and they’re telling a different story) but I think about Al’s background a LOT. Get ready if ur in the mood for a read.

To be a mixed Black person in America is a…bizarre experience. You come to realize that due to the coincidence of your genetic makeup, white folks may divulge information that they keep so closely guarded from the ears of “more obvious-looking” black folks. Im gonna bring it back to Alastor, but lemme give some personal context. I’m mixed with Filipino, so I’m pretty obviously not white, yet my ambiguous ethnic makeup in a predominantly white suburbia seemed to make white peers and people feel much more at ease in relaying their criticisms or prejudices of black people to me. I would hear someone feel comfy enough to spew vitriolic racist shit with me, then toe the line like a circus acrobat when around someone a few shades darker in skin tone and a few coils curlier in hair texture. It was constantly infuriating and holding my tongue was a practice to both investigate someone’s true nature and preserve my own safety. I did abandon that method of navigating life in America, and experienced the switch-up white folks made when I started ‘broadcasting’ my blackness. (E.G. beyonce pre vs. post Lemonade). The criticisms and prejudice confessions just came less often, til I saw them being caged up completely after white peers experienced backlash from me. After they realized “OH this bitch is a n*****!?”

Now this is from someone who is brown, but i also wanna talk about my white-passing cousin with a similar racial makeup as Al, who is from the south and oh BOY. (Let’s call him J for this post’s purposes). J’s navigation though simple daily life is such a constant contradictory experience, of which he is still working through in therapy. I think of one moment when he was manager at retail gig and his boss told him that whenever a Black customer enters, it’s policy to give them “exceptionally attentive customer service”. Essentially, “follow that n***** around”. This is just one modern incident of when J would hear the quiet part out loud, despite his Blackness, because his appearance was white enough to make white folks drop their guard. Eventually, my cousin and I took to the same direction where we used our advantage of disarming white folks against them when the time came. We would keep note and record of racism and unlock a sort of “this you?” when the opportunity to expose that person’s true nature came. It’s pretty vengeful thinking ngl, but it is really REALLY hard to resist exposing an asshole rather than attempting to teach an asshole to change their ways. Especially given that such an attempt is an ARDUOUS uphill battle. The experience of KNOWING the truth about what someone thinks of your people, and being opened to opportunities and information that you would not have access to if the chance of your genetics was only slightly different is bIZARRE, horrific, and fuel for constant inner turmoil. (It sucks y’all)

Now back to Alastor; to have been a mixed person in the Deep South in 1930s America—it’s not too difficult for me to imagine how traumatic and convoluted that experience must have been. Especially when legally and socially, things were so much more Black and White. And when you’re on the line in between that, when society does not prepare a place for your existence, it can be SO isolating. You may consider the absurdity of such an arbitrary method of determining class, status, and/or caste much earlier in life than peers, which only further isolates you. You hold a resentment of society now that you know exactly how the other side is operating to ensure your oppression.

And then I think of Al’s weird ass moral code. How he arrived in Hell and (according to Mimzy) began killing overlords with reckless abandon. This is someone who likely had to develop the cunning to navigate 1930s Deep South America as a mixed, murdering, psychopath without getting caught by authorities who are already gunning for you. And now he is in Hell where the rules of society have gone up in smoke and he can fully embrace his rage, resentment, and vengeance. A desire to burn down the powerful people of the world can be accommodated and ANY previous inhibitions can finally be released. The morality of rising above someone by cutting them down (instead of developing emotional/spiritual healing) has become the easier and satisfying option. Finally the opportunity to show the power-secure villains of the world how easily you can tear them down when nothing is holding you back any longer.

TLDR; The trauma of racism in America is pretty sufficient cannon fodder for a severe psychotic break, the development of socially debilitating behaviors and isolation, and a quest for profound vengeance. So maybe that can explain some of the enigma that is Alastor.

And this is just ONE facet of Al. I didn’t even get to bring up the isolation that comes with being an aroace nonbeliever in the 1930s Deep South. Like FUCK. I’m a mixed, aroace nonbeliever from a modern day conservative town and yall….what a weird experience for sure lol but anyway lemme get back to my life. Whole point of this was—-WHAT AN INTERESTING FUCKEN CHARACTER TO THINK ABOUT

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #it’s an alastor analysis yalllll #character analysis gives my media and art engagement brain the wiggles #also I hate racism!!!! :)

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risuola · 7 months ago

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ENTRY #10 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You make my heart do things it's not supposed to do.

contents: arranged marriage!au, teeth rotting fluff, nothing else — wc. 1000

a/n: expect me to drop few entries very quickly because they are all finished in my drafts <3

series masterlist

It still flustered him.

Satoru never, not once in his 28 years of life, felt more confused, than right now. Why was his heart doing backflips in his chest? He sat there, on the wooden chair frozen and thankful for the furniture that held his weight because if suddenly it’d be taken away, he would collapse to the floor, meet the cold kitchen tiles and melt against them into a puddle of mess. He was there, stuck in time with his head empty and heart racing in his chest, rumbling against the cage of his ribs while you were going about the day without a care and attention to his pathetic state. A state you reduced him to.

It’s been few minutes already and Gojo sat there in silence, watching your back as you were washing fruit in the sink, snacking on the juicy strawberries he grabbed for you earlier that morning — a gesture foreign to his own body but he wanted, for once, to be the person who made you smile and not only experience the effect of someone else’s doing. He woke up earlier that day, before the sun even peaked above the horizon line and with his thoughts racing and stomach full of butterflies, he went on a very special mission.

It was a tiny market, way outside Tokyo but with the loveliest sellers. He found a booth he eyed once when on the job in the area, a stand full of little hand-woven baskets, each of them brimmed with fruit. The strawberries were red, some very bright and some very deep in color, glistening in the early sun with the morning dew that scattered across the surface looked as if little crystals were adorning the harvest. Satoru smiled and the old lady smiled as well.

“How can I help you, young man?” She asked, spreading her arms invitingly and Satoru could tell, by the look of her calloused hands, stained in juice and dirt, she was working hard every day to make a living.

“My wife loves strawberries,” he began, catching himself on the ease with which the word wife left his mouth, “but I don’t know much about picking the best ones. Could you help me with that?”

“You came to the right place, son!”

Just few moments later, Satoru was walking slowly towards his house, after warping back into the city. In his hand, a bag hung hooked over his fingers, full of those little baskets and their contents. He might have gone overboard with the purchase, but the joyful tears that welled in the eyes of that old woman when he paid her for fruit — definitely much more than it was worth according to the prices — he had no regrets. In result he carried the bagful of not only strawberries but also some apples, raspberries and sweet cherries — all of which he was forced to take, despite his initial plans of getting only the red ones you like so much.

“There you are, right on time,” your beautiful, melodic voice greeted him the moment he swung the doors open, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He could’ve bought you flowers as well, he planned to do so, but he had to evacuate himself from the grasp of that one seller lady, because as lovely as she was, if he stayed a moment longer, she would pack him her entire harvest of that morning. “I thought you went out earlier, but I made breakfast for you anyway.”

“I went for a little walk,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant and at ease as he could despite the rageful whirl of butterflies in his stomach. Why was he so nervous? “And I bought you these.”

A soft thud barely made itself apparent above the cacophony of clinking plates and cutlery, but it was enough to catch your attention. You looked at him, curious, and somewhat carefully reached into the bag now rested on the kitchen table. Your face brightened up, your eyes glimmered and you smiled — and Satoru could’ve sworn he’s never seen something more beautiful. You reminded him of a child that got a toy it dreamed of. Pure happiness washed over your features and he wondered if it was always that easy to bring joy to your otherwise calm self.

“Oh my god, Satoru–“ you gasped out, fishing out one of the berries and after a short rinse under the water, you popped it into your mouth and melted. He was told by the woman in the market that the type she was growing on her fields was exceptionally sweet, with the right amount of tang and a lot of juice.

“Tasty?” He asked, watching how you savored the flavor with pure pleasure.

They were tasty. He found out himself, because when your lips pressed to his own, he forgot how to breathe and the only things on his mind were the plushiness of your mouth and that sweetness. His body moved on its own, his hands found their place on your hips, pulled you in, as if it was a natural reaction for him to bring you closer.

And then, before he managed to secure his grip on you, you were gone from his proximity, leaving only the lingering taste of strawberries on his lips and a growing confusion.

I love you.

He heard that right, a gentle whisper against his mouth. You said it, this time you said it for sure, this time he was sure the words actually were spoken, not read between lines.

“Sit down, Satoru, eat your breakfast,” you sing-sang happily, as if you didn’t stop the entire globe just now. As if you didn’t just alter the universe he was in, shifting the rhythm of the muscle in his chest permanently. As if you didn’t just tell him you love him.

But he sat down, afraid to not lose his balance and absentmindedly shoved a piece of a pancake into his mouth.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland@ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

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sebsbarnes · 13 days ago

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Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?

im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.

pda || tangerine

tangerine x reader

warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.

he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."

with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.

tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.

"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."

it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.

there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.

"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.

the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.

"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.

tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.

"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."

"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.

just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.

"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.

tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.

"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.

you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.

"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.

tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."

you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.

"kiss me."

"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.

"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"

before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.

tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.

the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.

your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.

your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.

if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.

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eleganzadellarosa · 1 year ago

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pairing: newlywed!mingyu x newlywed!fem reader

genre: SMut 😏 and fluff

warnings: MDNI (kinda drunk sex? definitely pussy drunk Gyu, dacryphilia, overstimulation, pleasuredom! gyu, size kink (it’s obvious), daddy kink, breeding kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism? slight dumbification, pet names (baby, angel, princess, pretty))

word count: 1.8K+

A/N: just a lil something because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading :)

For better, for worse

In sickness and in health

Till death do us part

The words flowed so naturally between the both of you, waiting for this day to come after being engaged for a year. It’s not like you weren’t used to kissing him, but this kiss was special. A kiss that only happened once if things went well. A kiss to be cherished for the rest of your lives.

Everything had gone according to plan, the day was absolutely perfect. Mingyu was your soulmate, you clicked the first time you met and the rest was history. He knew you like the back of his hand and vice versa. You never thought you’d find someone like him, but now he was yours till death did you part.

There was something so seductive and attractive about knowing you were his and him, yours. A promise of loyalty and love. He sat across from you sipping on his third bottle of soju, looking absolutely ravishing. He ditched the suit jacket and tie that he had worn just a few hours earlier and the first few buttons of his white collared shirt were undone.

Maybe it was the vibes of today or the amount of shots you downed, but the way he looked had you feeling feral. It came from deep within, like the only thing that would help is if he fucked you so hard you would feel it in your throat.

“Whatcha staring at angel?”

His words snapped you out of it, his voice not helping your problem. His chest peaked through the open fabric, so tan…you wanted to run your tongue over it. He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of your face.

“Baby, come talk to me.” He patted his left thigh, beckoning you over. Was he really going to have you sit on his lap out in public?

You shakily stood from your seat, thighs rubbing together to hopefully do anything to stop this agonizing throb. He looked up at you but just barely due to his tall stature. You sat down, his arm wrapping around your waist and his hand softly patting your butt.

“What’s going on pretty? What’s on your mind hmm?” He planted a kiss on your lips, patiently waiting for you to answer.

You could easily just tell him the issue and he would immediately take you home to fix it. Yet, the feeling was so overwhelming that even him doing nothing, his cologne filling your nose, had you dripping wet.

He ran his other hand under your dress and up your thigh, making you pant. “Just as I thought. Need Daddy to get you out of here?”

You nodded as you played with the collar of his shirt, a blush creeping on your cheeks. He quickly called the waiter for the bill as you returned to your seat. You gathered up your things as Mingyu paid and followed him to the car. He opened the door for you like the gentleman he is and even leaned in to buckle your seatbelt.

He got in on the other side, smirking when he saw your hands pressed together between your thighs. God why was this so hard? You were on the way to the hotel Mingyu rented out for the two of you; all you had to do was wait.

He saw how desperate you looked as you tried your very best to contain the pulse running through your pussy. Mingyu thinks you’re so cute when you get this horny and he loved being the one to fix it for you. There was a red light and a few cars in front when the idea popped in his mind.

“Lay your seat back and spread your legs for me angel.”

You looked over at him confused, only because your mind didn’t fully register what he said. Your body started to move when his hand worked your dress up your legs. You’d already changed out of your wedding dress for the reception and opted for something shorter and more form fitting.

You followed his orders and laid the seat back slightly and spread your legs wide, or as much as the car would allow. He licked his lips and moved your panties to the side. You could’ve made him crash with the way your pussy glistened under the passing street lights. You were absolutely soaked.

No need to wet his fingers before hand, being able to plunge two thick fingers inside you with the utmost ease. Your jaw fell slack, a moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck baby you almost made Daddy crash, you’re so wet.”

You looked over at him with heavy lids. He tried so hard to keep his eyes on the road, but you had a tight grip on his arm as you bucked your hips up to ride his hand. You were moaning and whimpering with how good it felt at this angle and with the width of his fingers. He pumped them faster, feeling your walls contract and your pussy leak more slick.

“Be a good girl for Daddy and cum on his fingers.”

He used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s what does it. Your whole body tensed up and you let out breathy moans as you came down from your high. You hadn’t noticed you were parked in the hotel lot until you see Mingyu turned in his seat watching you.

“Gyu, I…I need more.” You clawed at his arm desperately and his brows furrowed.

“Trust me, with how hard you have me right now, I wouldn’t want anything else.”

He sucked your juices off his digits and quickly got out the car to rush and open your door. He helped you fix your dress and kissed your forehead as he lead you to the check-in desk. The hotel looked fancy from the outside so you could only imagine what the rooms looked like.

Not even two seconds after you walked in did he have you in his arms bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. Guess a room tour would have to wait. He laid you down on the edge of the bed gently and sunk down on his knees. He tugged on the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs. He pressed your legs apart, big strong arms holding you in place.

“Look at this pretty pussy all for me…” he was in complete awe of how tasty you looked. If there was one thing he loved doing, it was eating you out. You tasted better than anything he’s ever had, Mingyu thinks.

He licked a fat, long stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your legs tried to move down but he was not letting up on his grip. He was eating you out so messily, spitting and licking everything back up; fingers playing with your leaking hole. He slurped on your clit then moved down to fuck his tongue into you, his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves.

Your chest heaved as you cried out his name, hands tangling in his dark locks. Your ears picked up on how he moaned too, you know he was having the time of his life. You felt that familiar tightness in your stomach, signaling your orgasm was coming soon. You were tugging on his hair now, ripping deep groans from him.

“G-gyu gonna cum!” Your head felt fuzzy. You were almost sure you were going to faint from the pleasure.

As impossible as it sounded, he felt himself get harder. “Go ahead pretty, cum all over my tongue.”

A few more curls of his fingers and sucks on your clit, you came violently on his face. He stopped after you settled down and stood up, chin glistening. It was him now who felt like he couldn’t wait any longer. He removed his clothes and yours after. He pushed you up further on the bed and rested his hips in between your legs. His dick felt warm and heavy against you and you were already just as turned on as you were a few minutes ago.

“You’re so beautiful baby, I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he rolled his hips into you. He looked down as he slowly inserted his dick in you, moaning at the feeling of your walls so tight around him. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can go slow, you feel too good.”

“Don’t go slow, fuck me dumb Gyu.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He set a vicious pace from the start, stretching you out deliciously. No matter how many times you had sex with him, he seemed to never fail to open you up. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, not able to reach anything else with how wide his body is.

If he’d known how intoxicated you would have him, he wouldn’t have drank so much soju. You were his everything, his world, his partner for life. You looked so gorgeous underneath him, writhing in pleasure from his deep and fast thrusts. He hoped this feeling never faded and you loved him as much as you do now for always and forever.

You sounded so pretty whimpering and stuttering out his name. Your knees were back at your chest as he pinned you under his large frame, making you feel so small in comparison. This new angle had him hitting new depths. He maintained eye contact as he moaned and sped up this thrusts. You weren’t sure how much longer you would last. Your mind was slowly going blank the more he pressed down into you.

“S-so good Gyu, feels so good. W-wanna cum for D-daddy. Can I please cum?”

He noticed but the feeling hadn’t settled in your mind yet; tears were rolling down your cheeks. He never admitted it but this expression made you look ethereal. Mingyu loved seeing you cry from being fucked dumb on his dick. How did he get so lucky?

“My pretty princess…of course, fuuuck- today is your special day, you can cum as much as you want. I’ll give it to you all night.”

“Fill me up Gyu, wanna feel it in my tummy.”

His head was spinning; you were his kryptonite. His thrusts became sloppy, preparing for his release. “Want Daddy to fill you with his seed? Make your belly big with his baby?”

You looked at him with teary eyes, nodding frantically. How could he not cum seeing that? He shoved his fat dick deep in you, cumming in spurts as he felt you reach your climax with him. Your body was spasming against his, milking him for every drop. He pulled out slowly to watch his cum drip out. He scooped it up with his fingers and fucked it back into you, your pussy clenching from the sensitivity.

He got out of the bed to fetch a warm cloth to clean off the both of you before pulling you close to him under the blanket. You were already dozing off by the time he got settled but you know he’d be following close behind.

“Gyu?” You continued when he looked down at you with a hum. “Thank you for making today the best day ever.”

He sighed contently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything for my amazing wife.”

#mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu

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obsesssedblerd · 5 months ago

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According to Shiu Kong, this little assignment was supposed to be simple. You and your infuriatingly attractive work partner, Toji, infiltrate a formal dinner party to get information about a target that you’ll have to assassinate later on, and then sneak back out without being noticed.

It was simple, until it wasn’t.

One of the target’s bodyguards had been eyeing you and Toji carefully for the last hour, despite both of you blending in with the rest of the couples at the party. “Maybe it’s because we both look good,” he told you when you mentioned it earlier, gesturing to your red dress and his dark suit, but you weren’t so sure.

During a speech, Toji places a hand on the small of your back, then leans over to whisper in your ear, “Time to go. He’s definitely on to us.”

You raise a brow. “Oh, are you finally admitting that you’re wrong?”

“Shut up and walk with me.”

You roll your eyes, but walk when he takes your hand and leads you behind the crowd, both of dropping off your empty champagne glasses on a tray when you pass a waiter. When you two slip into one of the venue’s quiet hallways, you feel the bodyguard trailing behind you—a small distance away, but still nearby.

“The entire party will be filled with skilled assassins,” Shiu briefed you two before beginning the mission, “If you are caught, you will be greatly outnumbered, so make sure you don’t get caught.”

Toji also knows that the bodyguard is following you two. You can tell by the way his mouth presses in a tight line. He’s thinking of a plan. The door that leads to the car you both arrived in was on the opposite side of where you are now. To get out safely would mean getting the bodyguard off of your trail. He turns left, then tugs you down another long hall that’s filled with multiple doors. He quietly opens one, then ushers you inside before getting in as well, shutting the door behind him.

You bite back a yelp when your back immediately hits a wall. “Toji,” you whisper, “is this a closet?”

“Yes. That guy will more than likely think we took the door that leads to the basement. All we have to do is hide here long enough for him to disappear, then go back the way we came.”

The closet wasn’t cramped to the point of extreme discomfort, but it was still on the smaller side. You can tell from the faint smell of cleaner that it was where the custodians stored some of their supplies. The tiny, dim light bulb above of you both is your only source of light. When Toji sees your brows furrow, he scoffs, “What? Got a better idea?”

“...Why didn’t we just take the staircase that went towards the side of the building when we left the party?”

“Too many people, dumbass,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blink in surprise. “Do you really think he’s that idiot’s only bodyguard? What’s better? One person pursuing us, or multiple people pursuing us?”

It takes a lot to remember that you’re supposed to be quiet. However, you’re pissed, and it doesn’t stop you from whisper-yelling, moving your hands around animatedly. “First of all, you empty-headed piece of shit,” you hiss through your teeth. “I said the side, not the front. The side entrance of the building was down the stairs. The door is literally at the bottom of the staircase. The bodyguard was on the other side of the party when we started walking. By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, we would’ve been gone.”

Toji takes in your words, and the smugness fades from his eyes as he slowly makes the connection. Then, he exhales. “...Oh.”

“Oh?” Now it’s you scoffing in disbelief. “Oh? That’s what you have to say? Didn’t you look at the fucking map that Shiu gave you of this place the other day?”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, so I got the fuckass map mixed up. Cry about it later, let’s just get through this.”

“Yeah, you always get shit mixed up and that’s why we always end up in dumb scenarios such as this one.”

He glares at you. “Look, if you really think that—” When moving his hand, it knocks a bucket off of the shelf, and it clatters noisily to the ground. His eyes widen, and your heart drops.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching from down the hall. Quickly.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he quietly hisses through gritted teeth, and he drags a hand through his dark strands. It’s the first time you’ve seen Toji look worried.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart. “Do you think we can knock this guy out? Or even kill him and run?”

“He’s more than likely got a gun, and back-up on the way,” he replies, and right on cue, you hear a gun clicking, as well as the bodyguard muttering something into a phone. Shit.

Your breathing picks up. The only way you two were getting out of this in one piece is if the bodyguard abandons his plan after seeing you and Toji in the closet-

Bingo. “That’s it!” You whisper-yell again when your new idea hits you.

“What? What’s it? You got something???” Toji asks you, and the footsteps are dangerously close now. You’re out of time.

Your eyes meet his. “Play along like you fucking mean it,” you tell him firmly.

“What do you– mm!” His words are cut off when you grab the front of his jacket, push up to your toes and slam your lips against his. Once he gets over the initial shock, his hands are on your waist, and he’s shoving you up against the closet wall, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

It pulls a small moan from you, and you begin fumbling with his tie as his hand trails lower down your body, grazing your leg through the open slit of your dress. You run a hand through his hair, gripping slightly, and the sound he makes is between a groan and a growl. It makes heat rush through your entire being. You’re just beginning to pull his tie all the way off when the door to the closet opens. You hear a shocked gasp, and you and Toji break your heated kiss to look over at the bodyguard, whose face is flushed a bright red.

“Do you fuckin’ mind?” Toji asks him irritatedly, slightly out of breath from the kiss.

The bodyguard steps back and stammers out his apologies. “S-So sorry. I, uh, I didn’t think this would be– Please forgive me.” He shuts the door, and on top of the rapidly departing footsteps, you hear him clear his throat before saying, “No, no. False alarm. Just two guests having a private moment.” You grin, then laugh quietly. A split second later, Toji joins you.

“Wow,” he breathes out, then looks back at you. His face is a bit flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen from kissing, but he’s mostly relieved. “Good idea.”

“Thanks,” you say, “can’t believe it worked.” Your gaze drifts back to his lips, which now had hints of your gloss on them. “You’re a good kisser,” you mumble without thinking, and you immediately wish that you can take it back.

“Yeah?” He asks, the corner of his scarred mouth lifting.

No point in avoiding it now. You meet his stare head-on. “Mhm.”

“Right back at you.” His voice is low; a bit sultry. When you feel his thumb lightly stroke your waist, you remember that his hands are still on you. Your arms are also still wrapped around his neck. “We should go, huh?” He asks.

“Right,” you mumble, but don’t move. You don’t want to. “He’s gone now, so it should be safe for us to leave.”

Toji doesn’t move either, and his eyes don’t leave yours. “Right.” You notice how they darken with hunger. Arousal swirls in the pit of your stomach, pools in between your thighs.

He leans in and kisses you again, much slower than before, but still as intense. His lips drift towards your neck; kissing, then suckling a small mark onto your skin. “Toji…” you sigh blissfully as your head falls back to give him more access. “We’re in a closet,” you say, the last shard of common sense within you making a desperate attempt to remind him.

“Shh…” He hushes, enjoying the way you shudder when his fingers drift even lower than before. “They think we’re fucking anyway. No one’s coming back for a while,” he assures, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “It’s just us.” You tilt your head to look back at him, and his thumb gently drags across your bottom lip, messing up your gloss even more.

“Let me have you.”

----

a/n: hehehehehe cliffhangerrr 🤭

#another one of my fav tropes UGH #toji imagine #toji au #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk au #written by rey <3 #fushiguro toji #toji fushigro x reader #toji fic

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mellowsaturns · 2 years ago

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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fullfriendnerdclutch · 6 months ago

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Artie grinned mischievously as his friends profile started to appear one by one. The app linked to the saved contacts in his phone and somehow they managed to extract a fairly accurate profile of Artie's friends, resulting in a couple avatars that Artie can choose and tweak to his likings. The app, called Chronivac, not only changed Artie's physique to look like a 30+ years old hairy muscle hunk, it also molded the reality in accordance to the final prompt Artie typed in, turning the 20 years old college dropout into a bonafide hunk living life lavishly from workout courses and OF, and he's about to spice things up in the life of his dear friends.

He started from Randall.

He started very methodically as he put Randy as the new name. Then, when the profile options opened, he started his work. Get rid of the glasses. Get rid of that acne scar and blackspot. Retain the face but make the jaw angular. Styling the hair so it's no longer greasy and moppy. Face done, now the body

Randall is quite a perv and his biggest turn-on is big titties, but well, most untouched virgin are perv anyway so maybe he should make Randy turned on with himself by giving him this large pair of muscle tits? Lol, that's hilarious, he thought to himself. Humh.....so maybe keep Randy as a 255 lbs fuckers? Well, turn all the fat into muscle and click "Optimize" because he can't be bothered to perfect Randy's muscle distribution.....hot damn that's one massive unit! Finalize the whole change with the short prompt

"Randy is a gym junkie and absolute freak of nature. He's probably the biggest 20 years old in the entire Americas. He's one of my mentee and he looked up to me as his inspiration, he even will not hesitate to take my cock if I instruct him to do so to get bigger, quite the dumb oaf he is,"

Click Save and then Process. Several seconds later, a transformed Randy appeared in the room that Artie booked for this holiday. Randy appeared to be sleeping while he got altered earlier, Artie just realized it's night time in the States so no wonder Randy is asleep. He will check him out later as he still have several more profile to go

Andy. Oh, yeah, the profile arrangement is based on surnames. Coleman, Randall. Garcia, Andy. Andy is Artie's bestfriend from childhood so Artie knows very well what Andy really wanted to look like.

Keep the name and lineage. A little tweak in his testosterone to boost that facial hair growth and make that balls pumped full faster with mini Garcias. Andy admired his hotter, older brother, Juan, so badass and clearly a true symbolism of what Latin American community deemed as macho, so Randall ensured that whatever feature Juan possessed, Andy is going to make that even better. Thicker hair, more defined abs, bigger biceps, bigger triceps, rounder delts, voice that trembles anyone that hear it, obviously bigger uncut piece of meat, more tattoos, all lodged in as part of the new Andy's persona. The avatar is looking quite a looker already so Artie just added a bit of simple prompt, click the Save button and then Process the changes. Andy suddenly appeared in the day bed next to Artie, still sleeping soundly and Artie just smirked as he continued his work

He tweaked Ollie's profile right after, making the pale and lanky 6'5" Norwegian-Lebanese former ballet dancer to be closer to his Lebanese roots as he shrunk him to a 6'1" muscle daddy. Ollie, or Olaf, quickly turned into Ali, and just like Andy, appeared in the same resort where Artie stayed

Michael is supposedly next on the list, but James is already quite distracting for Artie so he decided to work on James first. He's really not that close to James and to be honest, if it's not because James is Andy's college roommate, Artie probably would have 0 interest to befriend him. He might be clouded with jealousy because Andy seemingly enjoyed James company, and even worse, a little crush on him, but well, with a reality-changing app in the palm of his hands, why should he accept things as it is when he can change it? So, rather than focusing on the physical aspect, Artie simply turned his focus to James mental part. He smirked devilishly as he turned the pretty-much straight James into a horny, lustful bottom. Artie practically emasculated James and he felt zero remorse whatsoever as he then added to the prompt that James tagged along to this trip as he's a clingy cum dump that Michael fucked once in the seedy bar that he and Andy frequented. Yup, that's the plot of his change to the innocent Michael.

Artie quickly tweaked Michael profile, the smallest and shiest one in the friend group is now the horny beast who needs to fuck a hole in daily basis. Artie based all of them in the same city, the same apartment building even and then created this whole backstory of their ascendancy to the top of OF and independent adult industry in Michael's prompt space. When he clicked Process, the sound of James moaning in delight echoed all the way to the swimming pool, Michael is basically fucking the shit out of James

The noise also managed to wake Andy's up. Despite seemingly confused at first, Andy quickly find his senses and instead of freaking out or reacted in surprise, he seems to be very much comfortable and at home. Artie sighed with relief, thrilled that his little handiwork resulted nicely.

It seems like that Andy is totally not aware that his life has been dramatically altered by his own best friend that just whipped out his cock from the swimming shorts he's wearing. With a grin while his right hand started pumping his meaty cock and the phone flipped and locked in the table, Artie said

"Care to help a friend here? We can drench Ali to wake the fucker's up when we are close,"

#chronivac tf #chronivac #reality change #male muscle growth #personality change #male transformation #nerd to jock #fat to fit

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calcifiedunderland · 8 months ago

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Part I (here), Part II, Part III (COMPLETED)

Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader

In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…

I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕

Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina

Warnings: food/eating

Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D

———————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”

Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.

Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?

Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.

Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.

Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.

Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.

Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.

IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭

TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him

Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.

The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.

—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—

Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.

“Prefect? What are you doing here?”

You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.

“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”

Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”

As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!

You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”

Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”

The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.

“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕

lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘

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fic-dumpster · 1 month ago

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Deer in Headlights | Panic arrives at the office

Summary: Working as Sanzu’s secretary for a day wasn't so bad; he was rarely in his office, so you had to handle most of his paperwork and appointments. Where was he? Who knows…

Pairing: Bonten x F!Reader

Word count: 2.4k+

Content Warnings: Plot development, feelings with sprinkles of angst (eww), reverse harem, fluff, brief mention of violence and death. This is part of a series! Just adding that for new readers.

A.N: Finally freeing one of the old wips which I rewrote like five times because i couldn’t remember what I was doing. Anyway! Enjoy more of this never-ending series of unfortunate events surrounding Doe and her harem. K bye 💋

You asked Mikey if you could stay at their workplace longer since being at home was becoming duller and duller. He agreed, but as always when it comes to anything involving you, nothing happens in this household without a fight.

At first, Takeomi objected and would only allow this ridiculous idea if you were his assistant, then Kakucho added that he also needed help. But then backtracked. He remembered his position as an enforcer and didn’t want you to see him like… that— so yeah, discarded.

Meanwhile, Kokonoi laughed in their faces. mentioning how he was the one who spent more time sitting down on his desk— buried in paperwork— and that's why you should be with him. The safest option, according to him.

Surprisingly, the infamous Bonten trio had been quiet the whole time. Ran, Rindou, and Sanzu seemed very uninterested in acquiring you for help. Such a reaction from your pack of hyperactive golden retrievers left you puzzled.

Your incertitude didn’t last long. Later you found out that they didn't want you with them due to the nature of their jobs too, just like Kakucho earlier. The more gruesome parts of Bonten always fell on their shoulders as well.

Not soon after you heard Kokonoi explain their unusual silence, he also added a few extra details. Such details gave you the final push to decide who gets a new helping hand.

Kokonoi gave the longest speech you’ve ever heard him say about Sanzu. The silver-haired individual went on and on about Sanzu never submitting reports on damage, expenses, casualties, and a whole bunch of other desk work.

Sanzu argued that it was utterly ridiculous and unnecessary since everything would be destroyed by the next day. Still, you watched them ping-pong about such… matters for a while.

That's the main reason why you decided to choose Sanzu. And that's what you are doing right now. Sitting outside the door to the pinknette’s office in a new desk that Kokonoi insisted on arranging for you, even added a new desktop setup and all.

The whole morning was pretty calm. Kakucho came by and left some sweets for you, then Ran and Rindou took you out for lunch, and Mikey passed and snatched some of the sweets Kakucho gave you.

Everything seemed normal. it wasn’t until a little after noontime when the scorching sun hit the blinds that a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up from your papers, there stood a tall man—a dangerous-looking man, you might add. A distinctive tattoo was peeking from the neck of his well-tailored suit, strikes of blue and white adorned his hair. The alarms in your head activated for the first time since you were with Bonten. Which meant that danger was imminent.

He greeted you, although his gaze was not on you but looking at his surroundings. Observing and analyzing.

“I’m here to see Bonten’s numbers two,” that was all he said, not sparing you a second glance.

Panic settled in your guts. Sanzu never told you about a scheduled meeting, nor that someone might be asking for him today. You felt that denying something to this individual was not a good answer and how you wished you had followed your instincts.

“I’m sorry, Sir, he's not here at the moment, but you can-” You were cut short when, out of nowhere, a hand hit on your desk, sending papers and pens flying everywhere.

“Call him, then,” now he did pay attention to you, yellow eyes scanning every inch of your features, “or not.”

he stepped closer to your desk, somehow, you felt he was about to break the wood and glass with his palm still there. He then proceeded to bend over, just a little, to have a closer look at you. And it was like recognition hit him and his eyes seemed to acquire a playful glint, “I don’t think he would mind if his secretary keeps me company.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. You froze under his scrutinizing eyes. As still as you were, your fingers itched to bash the keyboard on his face. What was this slimy feeling covering you, overwhelming you? A sudden thought shot through your mind… you were no cheap whore.

That’s what you wanted to scream at him, at least. But you held back— or more like, you were out of options. The fact that he was standing inside Bonten’s building unharmed and without an escort spoke volumes about the caliber of this individual.

Why was such a short interaction setting off all your distress signals? Why was your throat screaming for air even as you breathe? Cold fingertips and a racing heart were the least of your worries at the moment.

Damn, Sanzu and his unorganized schedule and his lack of communication and… you would have continued to mentally berate him if the previously mentioned individual hadn’t stepped around your desk and offered you his hand.

“What do you say we take a walk?” As much of a question as it sounded like, your instinct told you that there was not really an option to decline.

“My boss wouldn’t like me leaving my position…” you articulated with gritted teeth. Against your best judgment, you tried to kindly refuse with an excuse involving Sanzu.

“I’m sure he would make an exception for me,” those were his last words before one of his hands steered you away from your just-acquired desk.

And that’s how you were now walking away from your new desk and going to who knows where. Every step was a scream you swallowed. Again you wondered, what was your instinct detecting from him that your consciousness couldn’t comprehend?

He mentioned his name was Taiju and that you should be careful working in such a precarious organization, such a feeble thing as yourself shouldn’t be exposed to an all-male environment and he kept going on about it.

This… Taiju individual placed his hand on your lower back. Dangerously low. Too low for your liking. So much so that you even hurried your step to create some distance but it was futile.

As if they had heard your silent prayers, Rindou and Kokonoi arrived just in time to see your back being led away from your supposed workplace. Both men felt like cold buckets of water had been thrown at them, blood freezing as a picture they never imagined possible now rose in from of their very own eyes.

You heard your name being called, well, almost screamed. The big guy halted his steps and you followed soon after, both turning to the screaming duo at your backs.

“You can’t take her.” Rindou asserted with a very forced smile, hands already on their way to reach you and bolt if necessary.

“Why is that?” The blue-haired individual inquired.

“Because she’s—“

“She’s my girlfriend!”

Both Rindou and Kokonoi spoke at the same time respectively, the latter with more urgency than the other but the message was clear enough. You were not to be taken away just like that.

“Oh? Congratulations! I never expected you to settle down, Hajime-kun. I thought you would be with Sei—“

“Nonsense,” quickly replied the silver-haired man before moving beside you and hastily pulling you towards his body; avid fingers replaced the previous hand on your lower back—gripping your skin tightly.

“Then why is she with Pinky? Shouldn’t you be taking better care of your women?” Taiju bellowed, eyes analyzing how his old acquaintance held you with so much affection and care. It was clear to anyone witnessing the two people in front of him, how Kokonoi was desperately but subtly in a hurry to erase any trace of Taiju’s touch from you.

“Yeah, Koko, you should take better care of your woman,” Rindou added, internally biting his cheeks to stop himself from laughing at how unexpected of a reaction his colleague had. Forgotten was the panic no soon you were in his fellow member’s arms. Now he decided to play along just for the laughs.

Meanwhile, you were face-pressed against a hard chest and an expensive button. You would have an imprint of Koko’s button on your face, you thought as you silently groaned in frustration; but eternally grateful for their opportune interruption.

“I am,” Kokonoi sent death glares towards Rindou who seemed to forget where you had been a minute ago. He cursed his fellow member’s fish brain. Sending a nod to his old acquaintance, Koko mumbled a hurried goodbye and disappeared with you in his arms.

The remaining two were left standing, watching silver locs wave like a cape.

“That’s an… interesting character development, I must say.”

“He’s pussy whipped,” the purple head commented, dismissively as he took Taiju toward his own office. Of course, the pot calling the kettle black. Well, Rindou talked from first-hand experience.

How does he tell you that he panicked? How does he tell you that you might not have been in danger, but his mind refused to understand? How does he explain his actions when they are not consistent with how he always treats you?

Kokonoi Hajime knows it doesn’t make sense what he did or what he’s feeling. It had nothing to do with Taiju but everything to do with you.

He sat in silence with you on his lap, arms wrapped around you tightly as his mind circled over his latest silent outburst. Sanzu’s office wasn’t the coziest place but it would have to work for now.

Air was something you certainly knew you needed in order to live. You hoped you didn’t have to remind Koko of that fact as he kept tightening his grip as time passed.

Up and down, your eyes gazed over his side profile. The few details you could see from your perspective—face harshly compressed against him—seemed to suggest he was not here completely. The lost look he wore was new to you.

“Koko?” You mumbled curiosity and worry mixed together within you. After a while, the odd silence didn’t quite sit well with you. “Koko?” You called out his name for a second time, squirming in his constricted grasp in an attempt to get his attention.

“Hum?” He seemed lost as he hummed a response. Slowly blinking away whatever thoughts had captured him for the last several minutes.

You knew talking things with him was hard, you didn’t wanna say the wrong things and make him lock you out. That’s why you had waited in place, letting him process whatever happened in the hall. It was so uncharacteristic of him to claim you in public or even touch you in front of others. You had expected Rindou to make a scene but never from Kokonoi.

After another prolonged silence, you went for the safest route. Asking for the only phrase that stuck with you. “So I’m your girlfriend?”

“Of course, you are, dummy,” he whispered with a dry chuckle; cradling your head against his chest—not once did his grip loosened. You felt words weren’t needed at the moment, something told you just to be there for him.

Kokonoi wanted to reaffirm you were real, you were still there, you weren’t a product of his mind… like his younger self used to imagine.

Maybe that was it? The image of you simply walking away; your back facing him tormented him now. He felt like his old self again, the one who lost so much and the little he was left with he kept it under a thousand locks. His mind and body remembered the devastating events and the pain… the pain of having something so dear to you again and how easy it was for life to take everything away in the blink of an eye.

Fear paralyzes. That’s when he realized he was afraid, but also… in love. Love doesn’t make sense; it’s the only part of the equation he could never calculate accurately.

He was so in love, that he acted out of character—vulnerable and raw. Only you had been able to bring that back out from the innumerable hard shells covering his heart.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You might not know that your words were just what he needed. Saying whatever was at the tip of your tongue has always been a talent of yours.

“Thank you,” he said softly, unwavering. you both stayed intertwined in the coach until darkness fell.

Somewhere in Japan near an abandoned port.

“You did this on purpose, did you not?” Mochi accused the pink-haired man after checking the message Rindou had sent to the group chat.

“Dunno what you mean,” rebuked Sanzu.

ah, so feigning ignorance now, was it? Mochi sent him a questioning gaze. “Sanzu…”

“It’s a sign that she wasn’t supposed to be there. She’s perfectly safe at our place and I don’t need help with paperwork.” He nonchalantly told Mochi. “Hey! Roll out the tarp! I don’t want any mess here!” Sanzu bellowed at the henchmen around him.

“Nah, I agree. You knew.” Ran taunted him, walking toward the now laid-out tarp. “You knew at what time Koko was going to check on her with Rindou and Taiju just magically went straight to your office with no problem? Ha, right.”

Kakucho heard the conversation and nodded in agreement with Ran. Bonten’s enforcer would have engaged in the accusation party but three cold bodies rested at his feet and nobody else seemed to have his mind on the job at the moment. He barked orders to the footmen who were taking too long to move the deceased.

“No, it was Takeomi.”

Every Bonten member perked up at the information their leader was providing them with. Takeomi froze in place as four pairs of eyes focused on him. Mikey on the other hand, sat a top of a wooden pallet tower; munching carelessly on some snacks.

“Well, now it makes sense. It was too much of a good plan to be yours.” Ran commented out loud with a laugh.

“Excuse me? I was part of the plan!” Argued Sanzu like a hissing kitten.

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t know?”

Sanzu looked at Mochi with exasperation as the sound of something heavy hitting the plastic tarp resonated in the background.

“You approved, though,” mentioned Takeomi who was standing close to Mikey.

“Sometimes it’s better to let a bird clash against the glass. It learns that sometimes no matter how clear the path looks, you can’t always fly at your heart’s content.” Mikey said as he dusted off the remaining pieces of crackers from his dark shirt. “And eventually… it won’t fly in that direction ever again.”

“And Koko?” Mused Kakucho joined the two men conversing.

“He needed a push in the right direction. He’s as hardheaded as always.” Chuckled Takeomi before tasking a drag of his cigarette.

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