#bucks a white male character and they always will get the most attention even if the show has more poc

[softestepilogue]

the constant disregard and erasure of the impact hen and chim had on bobby to help him during season 1 is really wild and exhausting

[tooktheladdedgbtq]

....and the Oscar goes to.. | Tom Holland X Male!actor reader. 

A/N: this was just something I wrote because I got inspired I guess. Happy Pride everyone!

——————————————

You couldn’t decide whether time was slipping through your fingers too quickly or if this had been the longest night you’d ever experienced.

seconds slowed to a crawl while you tried to gather yourself before it was your turn to take the stage. You were nervous. Not about being at the oscars or presenting for the first time. Not even about being nominated for your leading role in the second installment of a critically acclaimed trilogy. No, you’d been used to these sorts of things, you’d been an actor since you were a very young kid. Starting on television before film, and you even got to hold the Emmy the show had won when you had just turned a teenager.

No, you were nervous about who exactly you’d be presenting to. Of the five nominees and potential winners, only one could cause such an intensive feeling in your chest. Only one could awaken a sense of dread that battled with a feeling of intensive happiness mixed with anticipation, and it was Tom.

You’d known each other for years and had come to fall in love. You’d met as young co-stars on set and eventually grew into an inseparable friendship that progressed into something far more. Neither of you were sure when the feelings started but it felt like they’d always been there and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Your blissfulness with Tom was beautiful but short lived. After almost a year of being official you both agreed to take a break from the relationship. Unbeknownst to Tom you were just agreeing to save face and hadn’t pried for an answer out of fear of being hurt. You just accepted that this was how things were now, and took a step back.

You’d still kept in contact with him. It was hard not to. He was still your best friend. But whether it was the business of work or something a little more awkward, distance grew between you both as the multi-hour long facetime calls and text threads became once-a-week check-ins to just make sure you were alive and okay.

Time had passed, and you didn’t have a clue what you could possibly say to him now. You certainly didn’t want to ruin his special night. But you’d missed him so much and felt like you would implode at the first sign that he’d be interested in getting back together with you. But you also didn’t want to seem desperate or needy if he’d moved on. You didn’t want to slip and say those three words again in the moment.

Father time showed you no mercy as the sand in his hourglass suddenly shifted from a slow-motion drip to a flood. The seconds you’d spent daydreaming of your past with Tom and pondering about the your potential future had passed and left you with little time to gather yourself before presenting. still you shook your hands, arms, and lastly shoulders, putting all your worries aside and waited for introduction from the host.

Before long you’d been counted in to walking on stage, and heard the host over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, to present the award and introduce the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, please welcome one of this year’s nominees and one of our generation’s greatest talents: Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The applause erupts from the audience like a revved up engine as you took center but it was nothing compared to the standing ovation you’d receive later on that night when receiving your own award for Best Actor.

You were stood promptly center staged with the towering Oscar statue reflecting onto the black stage floor beneath your feet. Your outfit was alluring and would surely be the next hot topic which is rare for male stars. You looked like a million bucks. Everyone knew it, most of all, Tom.

You smile and wave as you approach the microphone, your teeth shining a blinding white, and wait for a hush from the crowd.

You chuckle lightly as a few hoots and hollers sound out as the cheers subside.

You eye the monitor across the room and start to read, your nerves dying down as your jokes land and laughter echoes around the room.

As you finish the introduction, clips start to show behind you to accompany the names of the nominees as the cameras catch a glimpse of each of their reactions.

You couldn’t help but notice how tough the competition was as each actor was called. Steven Yuen playing a detective in a thrilling murder mystery. John David Washington in a fictional film playing the world’s first black astronaut aiding in the discovery of lovecraftian horrors. Andrew Garfield for his role as a psychotic narcissist and genius businessman. Oscar Issac acting in a sci fi space opera asking questions of existentialism.

Finally, you had to withhold your smile as you called out the last name. He had returned to his Billy Elliot roots being nominated for his role in a astonishing musical romance film. “Tom Holland.” You’d been ecstatic when he’d told you about it as you’d always recommend he tried it again since it made him so happy in his younger years.

You spot him a few rows from the stage, making eye contact with him and wondering if he was thinking about you the way you had done with him earlier. You couldn’t help but notice him squirming in his chair and fidgeting with his hands. Selfishly asking yourself if this wasn’t just about the award but about having you present it to him.

Seeing you here after what felt like an eternity apart and your reunion potentially being the greatest achievement of both your careers. Making it the greatest night of your lives, that is, if you were still together. But you were still best friends. That’s what mattered. So you push your self centered thoughts aside and shoot him a small wave that he returns with a smile and thumbs up. letting you know he was okay and that you could continue as the camera pans back to you capturing your not so hidden giddiness.

This awarded some small oos and aahs from the crowd as your relationship with him had been a wholly celebrated one. especially among your marvel peers.

You’re handed an envelope and statue as the music ends and the applause dies down and you take one final glare into the camera before beginning to open the envelope.

“....and the Oscar goes to,” you take a peek at the crowd and see some of the nominees holding hands with loved ones. others plainly

awaiting your next words with bated breath. The anticipation shone on everyone’s faces. Even those that weren’t nominated. Your not-so-hidden grin giving away the answer mere milliseconds before his name escaped your lips. “Tom Holland!”

Tom shot up with a shared expression of shock and happiness on his face. Pecking his mother on the cheek as she wipes the tears of pride from her eyes. His best mate Harrison gives him a quick embrace and a pat on the back before he moves on to shake hands with the director and smile at everyone cheering him on as he gradually moves toward the stage still completely baffled at the victory.

As he walks towards you in his pink pastel colored suit and brown leather dress shoes you can’t help but swell with an overwhelming feeling of joy having been here to share this career defining moment with him. You thought about how far you’d both come to get here and almost started tearing up remembering all you’d been through together.

He skipped up the miniature steps and blanketed you with both arms. You didn’t want it to end as you hadn’t felt it in a while. You threw your arms around his neck and he tightens his hold around your torso. Before you could even process them, your blunt thoughts spill out as whispers.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this and so much more.” you hear a small chuckle escape him as he responds. “I am trying not to cry y’know mate?” a wolf whistle comes from the crowd as you apologize for being so sappy and before he can tell you off for it you hand him his award and shove him off toward the microphone.

As he takes center stage you stand off to the side to watch him give his acceptance speech. He pauses and takes a second to gather himself before he starts talking straight from his heart with nothing prepared.

“Um, Wow. I really can’t believe this is really happening and I probably still won’t believe it happened tomorrow. Just.. wow.” his words were filled with that charmingly British accent you’d come to love so much.

“First I would like to thank my mother, without whom of course, I would not be here. I would like to thank the academy and everyone who worked on this movie from the producers and camera men, make-up and costumes, to our wonderful writers, composer, back up dancers and vocalists, and of course my friends, my co-star and the director Damien Chazelle.” whom he gestures to sitting in the second row. “I share this with all of you and I can’t thank you enough for awarding me with the opportunity to create something I love so much.”

He thanks the other nominees before turns towards you to end his speech. you felt your heart in your hands when you saw his big brown puppy eyes dart in your direction with an intensive glare of admiration.

“last but most importantly, I want to thank the inspiration for all of the love songs I sung in the film and the reason I decided to take the role. The person standing here on my right.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen when his words hit you like a speeding semi. you realize that he’d just called you his muse in so many words. the inspiration behind the love songs in the film no less. Meaning that with every lovestruck note his character sung he was reminded of you. All that time spent worrying if the distance between you two would cause him to forget about you, or if he’d maybe moved on and found somebody else. But no such thing had happened. He was relating his character’s longing in the film to his longing for you this entire time and that made your heart do a backflip.

You blush and cover your still ajar mouth with your fist whilst trying not to pay attention to the crowd who’s attention was fully focused on you.

He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “Y/N you’re not only the reason I took this role, but you’re the reason I was able to play it with such sincerity. You’ve been a unwavering beacon of support throughout my career in general but here you really gave me the inspiration for something special. He faces the audience again as the all follow his words with whispers of how adorable you both were. “from reading lines together in the middle of the night, to keeping me company when i’m on the brink of a meltdown.” It was all true and it only made you miss you relationship more and you found it difficult to hold back your tears.

“Y/N is the kind of best friend everybody needs, the kind of partner everybody deserves, and the person I’m so incredibly lucky to have known for so long. ..and I still can’t believe he never figured out the lyrics were all about him, It was kind of obvious-” the audience laughed you’re so close to swooning as he turns toward you again. “But, with all my heart, I love you, Y/N. Always will.” you feel as if you’re floating.

He shifts to the crowd one last time to say a final thank you before you both walk off stage one arm around one another’s shoulders. You have a short but sweet conversation backstage with him where reassures you that everything he said on stage was true and completely unscripted. He wants to talk more but knows your category is coming soon so he asks for a later opportunity and you agree before returning to your seat in the crowd.

The rest of the night flew by with you winning the award for best actor and receiving the biggest applause of the night. Tom joined in the standing ovation. You thanked everybody involved in making the film, the academy, and squeezed a little joke directed towards Tom that garnered a shared laugh from both him and the audience. You were the last award of the night and after the celebrations it was time to return to your place, where Tom was waiting for you. Wanting to talk about everything that had happened not just tonight but everything leading up to it. He also hoped you’d kept a spot open in your heart for him to return to.

[suna-reversed]

Mafia AU! Suna x reader ft Miya twins

2k+ word fic

(warnings/tags- fingering, slight degredation, exhibitionism, hair pulling, oral [male receiving], male masturbation, mentions of breeding, mentions of violence, slight yandere themes)

You felt the cool brush of air against your dripping heat as your underwear was pushed to the side, your wetness immediately coming in contact with the growing bulge on the lap that you sat on.

Suna spread his knees further, hands gripping your thighs so that you were on full display to the lust filled hungry eyes of the Miyas. One of his hands came up to play with your exposed breasts that he had hastily pulled out of your dress, not even bothering to unclasp your bra as he opted to simply tear it off.

You leaned back farther against his chest with a sigh as he twisted one of your nipples, a small gasp escaping your lips at his cold touch.

“C’mon pretty girl, don’t keep those sweet moans hidden from us.”

Said an accented voice, followed by the sound of a zipper opening. You knew Atsumu would be the first one to break. Suna had precisely told you so. But you weren’t done with the task at hand just yet.

Suna’s hand on your thigh grazed dangerously close to your heat,

“Speak up doll, tell Atsumu-kun who makes you moan this good.”

Turning your head towards him with a doe-like look in your eyes, you grinded your hips down onto Suna’s hardening member as you replied,

“You daddy- daddy makes me feel so good- ah fuck!” You were cut off by the moan that escaped past your lips as you felt fingers come directly down onto your sensitive little clit, rubbing circles as the hand on your breast continued to toy with your nipples.

Atsumu had fully pulled out his cock from his briefs by now, the tip a shade darker than his skin, oozing with pre-cum as he slowly started to stroke himself.

“Her pretty little cunt is so tight- even after I’ve fucked it hard and deep almost every single night.” Suna growled, two of his fingers slowly entering you causing lewd squelching sounds as he began to pump them. 

Your moans synched up with Atsumu’s heavy grunts and breaths, a profanity leaving his lips every now and then as he started to stroke himself faster. You felt the hand on your breast come up to grip your jaw, turning your head towards Atsumu whose eyes were locked onto you as his strokes became slower. Suna brought his fingers to your lips and you instinctively took them in your mouth, sucking on them, your moans being muffled as the fingers stuffed up your cunt moved faster. Your hips bucked up in response as you felt the familiar coil tighten in your stomach, 

“Daddy please-fuck- so close...please let me cum!”

“Go ahead doll, cum all around my fingers”

That was all that was needed for you to crumble around the slender fingers inside you, back arching as you felt your own wetness drip down your thighs.

Your release seemed to be the blonde twin’s undoing as he too came with a loud “fuck!”, spurts of his load dripping down the leather material of the sofa he sat on.

You slumped back in Suna’s lap, eyes closing as you steadied your breathing, Suna’s hands coming up to tuck in your breasts back into the dress.

“I sure do hope the show isn’t over yet, is it?”

A shiver went down your spine at the husky foreign voice. You had almost forgotten that he was still there. Timidly opening your eyes, you saw him look at you with a smirk plastered on his face as he swirled around the whiskey in his glass.

“Always the late boomer aren’t you” the other twin said jokingly. You expected the silver haired man to perhaps reply with a snarky comeback. Instead, he sent down a blood chilling glare towards his brother that had even you quivering.

You felt Suna’s thumb rub circles into your thigh, deftly pulling away to tap thrice on your skin. A sign to ask if you were okay. You replied back by tapping his wrist twice. Sighing, you felt Suna sliding you down onto the couch next to him.

“Of course not, how can we finish off without our guest having had...fun” Suna replied smoothly.

Osamu smirked once more, eyes still plastered onto you as he lowly said,

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not as easy to persuade as my brother. I would much rather prefer a...personalised performance.”

A scoff could be heard in the back from Atsumu as you saw Suna’s fox-like eyes narrow, his own lips curling up into a smile and you swore you could’ve pictured him internally smashing the quick-tongued man’s head against the glass table in front of you repeatedly. You slid your hand across his thigh, squeezing twice.

Osamu didn’t miss the gesture.

“Not one to share are you? Afraid your pretty little thing might leave yer balls hanging once she finds better?”

He had said it so nonchalantly. Like a childhood friend passing on an inside joke to his mate. Fucking hell- this man truly had no concern for his own life, you thought to yourself.

You felt the tension in the room as Suna stood up. He wasn’t going to ruin this after what you had just got through, was he? No, you still had to buy more time. You felt him leisurely pick up a glass of drink from the bar counter as he came to stand behind you on the sofa.

“Why would I? You, her and I all know whose cock she’d be screaming on the loudest at the end of the night.” He said, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder before he continued, 

“However...in this case- well, she gets to decide whether she wants some pathetic other cock or not. She does have a thing for always getting new toys-” he paused, ruffling your hair as he mustered up the cheekiest smile possible, “...I do warn you though, they often end up getting thrown away...or even destroyed at times.”

Osamu’s smirk had turned into a clipped smile by now. Atsumu let out a nervous laugh, hoping to ease down the thick veil of tension in the room. Your brain played out all the scenarios in which this situation could turn into an absolute train wreck. So you did the best thing you could have. Looking up, you lightly tugged at Suna’s jacket, making him immediately snap his head towards you,

“Daddy- can- can I?” Your innocent voice seemed to make his own cock twitch, and you knew it had a similar effect on Osamu as you looked back at him shyly. These men were so easy to manipulate once all the blood in their brain flowed down straight to their dicks. You hit the final nail as you continued,

“Don’t want your guests gone without having had fun daddy- I wanna be good for you- for them.”

That made Osamu react out of character for the first time that night as he let out a deep sigh, moving a little to clearly adjust the pressure in his groin. On the other hand, you knew Suna saw through your act. He knew that you’d much rather have these men begging on their knees, and surely not for pleasure. But you had just confirmed your consent, and he did need more time, so he wrapped his ring covered fingers around your throat making you look up at him,

“Okay then- whatever you want doll.”

That was all the signal needed for you to get up, swaying your hips slightly as you walked towards Osamu. He apprehended you with an appreciative gaze as you came to stand right in front of him, before slowly getting down on your knees, moving your hands to place them on his muscular thighs. You heard a “thump” in the background which you assumed was Suna plopping down onto the couch. From the corner of your eye, you could already see that the blonde twin had once again become hard, simply at the gesture of you bending down.

“Still can’t get your full attention, can I ?”

The deep voice snapped you out of your trance as a knuckle brushed across your cheekbone. You looked up at the electrifying man. He had undid a few buttons of his white shirt, revealing his tattoo clad chest. He lightly flicked your nose with his index finger and you felt almost guilty as your core tightened at the subtle gesture.

Batting your eyelashes at him, you slowly slid your hands up to palm him over his growing bulge. You heard the lightest groan escape his throat, and that only spurred on your confidence as you started to unbutton his pants, pulling out his thick girth to slide your thumb across the pre-cum dripping off his tip. Pumping his length a few times, you leaned forward to lick a long stripe from the base up his shaft, stopping at the top to suck on his tip. That single move had almost broken his stoic demeanour as he bucked his hips up, a loud groan leaving his mouth as his fingers came to tangle themselves in your hair. Taking as much of him as possible, you let him set the pace as he rocked your head around his huge girth. Tears welled up in your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, but you continued sucking, drool falling out of your mouth mixed with his pre-cum as a string of moans left his mouth. Your hands came up to stroke what you couldn’t take inside your mouth. You pulled up to suck on his sensitive tip once more before going back to taking him deep in your throat.

“Fuck-fuck I’m close”

You hummed around his cock, intent on breaking one of the most dangerous men in the district, but a whine left you as your head was harshly pulled back by your hair, Osamu’s own frustration being signified by a loud groan.

“Only I cum in her mouth” Suna said possessively, “- continue stroking him baby”

Osamu was shooting daggers at the dark haired man standing protectively behind you. But his attention was ripped away from the violent thoughts as he felt your hands stroking him so well- fuck- he could’ve cum right there as he looked at your fucked out face, your hair mused by his administrations, lips swollen and dried tear stains marking your face. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. He wanted to ruin you, and he promised himself he’d make you his, no matter what it takes.

You had looked up at Osamu and felt his gaze darken, almost a tint of madness behind it as you continued to stroke him. You felt his climax approaching as his legs began to shake and his moans got louder, pumping him harder and faster, you moved one hand to brush your thumb against his tip knowing he liked it. And it worked as it snapped the restraint in him as he let go, spurting out thick layers of his cum all over his pants and your hands.

“Thank you angel” he had murmured, and Suna’s patience had finally run thin as he had pulled you up, giving you a tissue for you to clean yourself. You noticed Atsumu had managed to finish once more too as he grabbed a box of tissues for himself. You were barely able to meet the eyes of the other twin as Suna had thrown his suit jacket over your shoulders, pushing you out and instructing his bodyguards to escort you to your room, where you had immediately passed out from the exhaustion of all the events of the night.

——————————

Your eyes fluttered open to a hand caressing the back of your head and a strong tattooed arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did it go well?” You mumbled against his chest. 

Suna looked down at you, eyes filled with adoration and an emotion you couldn’t quite figure out.

“It did. Kita managed to meet up with the mole in their gang while they were busy with us. The diamonds were easily switched with the fake copies after that.” You sighed in relief, putting your head on his chest, “And by the time the Miyas do realise what has happened, they’d be way out of the province and surrounded by Ushijima and his gang.”

“But...what if they realise it before they’ve left, are you su-”

Your worries were cut off with a deep kiss pressed to your lips. You returned it with equal intensity, a small giggle escaping your lips. But your smile faded as you looked back at the glassy eyes of your lover.

“You’re mine, okay?” He mumbled while peppering kisses against your forehead. You were completely thrown off by his statement, surely he couldn’t believe that you’d ever choose anyone else over him?

“Please tell me you’re mine”

Your heart cracked at his plea laced with desperation. You immediately responded by kissing him once again, moving your leg across his and pulling yourself over so that you were straddling his lap. 

“I’m yours-only yours” you mumbled against his lips. Your admission set something feral off in him as he growled into your mouth. Your mind flashed to a particular set of cerulean blue eyes for just the fraction of a second. You threw aside the intrusive thought as your lover’s hands came down to knead your ass, and you felt his member poke against the inside of your thigh,

“Can’t wait to fuck you full of my cum princess- gonna make you cum over and over again until you’re begging me to stop.”

Fuck, you’d put your life on the line everyday if this is what you got at the end of it.

-extra cut below-

“Who were they taken by?”

“Shiratorizawa. 8 dead”

“My brother?”

“They’ve kept him separate for now. Most likely for hostage money.”

“So that’s how they play huh?”

“We’ll help you fix it, after all, our gangs didn’t come to a peace agreement for nothing. At least we still have you...which does bring me to the question, why did you decide to stay back?” 

“I had something I had to...take care of.” 

The silver haired man clenched his jaw, looking down at the collar engraved with the word “angel” across it. A deranged smile spread across his face, 

“You know what? I think I’m gonna deal with this by myself. That brat ‘Tsumu needs some manners beaten into him anyways.” He paused, “Do me a favour though Bokuto- get me all the information possible on that fucker Rintarou- everywhere he goes, who he meets, his personal cars, owned clubs, his close relations.”  

“You got it.”

Oh, he was gonna have so much fun hunting down his innocent little dove  

A/N: thank you so SO much for 500 followers!! Planning a kink-list event at 700!

[yuki-the-master-of-demons]

Sensitive Spots Part 2 (NSFW smut/angst) Mammon X Male MC

This is a continuation of another post: Part 1

Yuki is FTM (he/him). I just wanted to write smut but characters decided to go for angst

"What? Did I say something weird?" Yuki asks as all the demon brothers stare at him.

"Oh, Yuki." Asmo coos. "You really don't know what you do to us do you? Giving Mammon's wings special attention and then asking to do the same with everyone else."

"We weren't doing anything like that!" Mammon barks. "And even if we- If we were, what's the problem, huh?"

Yuki shrugs. "It's biology, and I like biology. I wanna learn about demon anatomy, and, while books can teach a lot, a diagram is nothing like touching the real thing."

"Well, that statement isn't wrong," Satan chuckles. "I suppose I should have leant you more descriptive books."

"That would be nice." Yuki comments. "Though, I'd still like to poke and prod y'all if y'all'd let me."

"You can poke and prod me all you want, Darling." Asmo giggles. "I can show you just how different demon anatomy can be."

"Me first." Belphie buts in.

Beel pauses chewing. "I wouldn't mind it either."

Satan chuckles. "I'd be happy to help educate you with a private lesson, Yuki."

"Oh no you don't!" Mammon growls. "The only one giving Yuki an anatomy lesson is me!"

Levi whines. "How can all of you say this stuff so casually?!"

Lucifer sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Yuki, why is it that you always seem to rile them up?"

"I don't fucking know, but it's nice to know I can study y'alls' demon forms, at least most of you it seems like." Yuki smiles. "This is gonna be fun."

"I can't wait, Darling." Asmo leans in closer to Yuki, but, before he can respond, Mammon yoinks him out of his chair.

"I call dibs!" Mammon yells before running off with the human as an uproar comes from his brothers. The demon pulls Yuki into his room, slams the door, and shifts into his demon form as he faces the human.

"So that just happened?" Yuki looks at Mammon with confusion.

"Can you not be a nerd for 5 seconds?" Mammon grumbles with his cheeks flushed. "Do you have any idea what you've been saying?"

Yuki stares blankly at Mammon. "Uh..." Yuki shrugs.

"Well, if you really want to be a nerd and study demon anatomy, you'll be studying me first." Mammon pouts.

"Oh uh, okay. So how do you wanna do this?"

Mammon gulps and takes Yuki by the hand, guides the human to sit on the bed with him. "Ya can go ahead and touch me..."

Yuki hesitates. "Where am I allowed to touch you?"

"Anywhere. Just- Touch me."

Yuki looks over Mammon's torso before tracing the markings on the demon's chest. Mammon's breath hitches.

"They're a different texture." Yuki mutters. "Are these tattoos or...?"

"They're kinda like birth marks." Mammon answers. "I didn't pick 'em."

"They look good on you." Yuki begins to undo the buckles of Mammon's top. It doesn't take long for the leather to fall from Mammon's shoulders. Yuki scoots himself to sit behind the demon.

"Ya really like my wings, don't ya?" Mammon chuckles softly.

"Yeah," Yuki answers easily. "They're really cool." Yuki delicately pulls at Mammon's wing and sees how far it can spread. He feels the thing leathery like skin and follows the white edges to the demon's shoulder blades. Mammon bites his lip. Yuki's hands feel up along Mammon's back, feeling how the muscles connect to the demon's wings. Mammon swallows his moan.

"You said the tissue here was sensitive." Yuki comments. "What does it feel like?"

"Good." Is the only word Mammon can get out without letting a groan slip past his lips. Yuki rubs the area where the leathery wing joins Mammon's back. The demon's wing twitches. Yuki rubs it again, the wing twitches again. Mammon can feel his cock stirring in his pants. Yuki tries rubbing another spot, this time Mammon's wing flutters. Yuki does this again and again, finding different spots at the base of Mammon's wings, seeing how the wings move depending on where he touches. A soft curse from the demon catches Yuki's attention.

"You good?" Yuki asks, looking over Mammon's shoulder. The human notices how Mammon's chest is heaving, cheeks and shoulders are flushed. Yuki's eyes widen as he looks further down and sees Mammon's cock straining against his pants. "Oh..." Yuki mumbles. "Oooooh, so they're that kind of sensitive."

Mammon turns to the human and growls. "Now you realize it?"

"Huh."

"'Huh?' 'Huh?!' Is that all you're gonna say?" Mammon tries to calm his breathing down.

Yuki shrugs, eyes not leaving the tent in Mammon's pants. "It's interesting anatomy. Is this kind of reaction common with all demons or is it-"

"Are you seriously still acting fucking like a nerd right now?"

"Should I not be?" Yuki asks.

"Fucking-" Mammon grunts. "You really are something else."

Heat rises in his Yuki's cheeks. "Are demons different down there as well?"

"I- Yeah." Mammon gulps. "Do ya... wanna see?"

Yuki slides off the bed and sets himself between Mammon's legs. "May I?" He asks.

"Fuck yes." Mammon groans.

Yuki hesitates for a moment and then undoes Mammon's belt. He unconsciously licks his lips as he pulls the zipper down, leaning closer as he does so. When Mammon's cock springs free, Yuki's eyes stare in amazement.

"Wow." Yuki mutters. White markings line either side of Mammon's cock, and rows of ridges are stacked along his shaft. Yuki leans in closer, fingers wrapping around the base of the demon's cock. Without thinking, Yuki leans down and licks the tip.

"Fuck." Mammon moans.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me." Yuki pulls away.

"Don't fucking apologize." Mammon reaches down and runs his hand through Yuki's hair. "Go ahead. Study my cock with your mouth."

Yuki leans in closer again, looking up at the demon to make sure what he's doing is okay, and takes the tip of Mammon's cock between his lips. He runs his tongue over the slit, savoring the taste of the demon. His hand slowly begins stroking the demon.

Mammon groans. "Fuck, Yuki."

Yuki takes more of Mammon into his mouth, mind going fuzzy as heat grows in his lower body. Yuki's other hand wanders down and begins rubbing circles against his clit through the fabric of his pants. Yuki strokes faster and begins to bob his head, taking in more and more of Mammon's cock each time his head descends. When he looks up, Mammon's blue eyes are staring back at him with flushed cheeks.

"You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock." Mammon moans.

Those words both embarrasses and encourages Yuki. He tries to take Mammon deeper, trying to take the demon down his throat. He chokes and has to pull away, but he does back down, determined to take all he can. He closes his eyes as his head bobs faster, both of his hands working Mammon's cock.

"Y-Yuki-" Mammon pants. "I'm- Fuck, I'm close."

Yuki pulls Mammon's cock from his lips and strokes the demon's cock. He opens his mouth, tongue out and ready. The human looks up, watching as how Mammon's shoulders shudder and how the demon's bottom lip bleeds as he bites it.

A guttural groan escapes Mammon as he cums, his fingers digging into Yuki's scalp. Yuki keeps staring at the demon, taking note of every detail he can, as rope after rope of cum shoots into his mouth. Mammon stares back, watching as Yuki licks his lips clean and sucks the tip of Mammon's cock, making sure every drop is in his mouth. For a moment, the two stare at each other in silence. When Yuki swallows his cum, Mammon pulls the human onto his lap, and they kiss each other desperately.

"Mammon!" Yuki gasps when the demon bites the base of his neck. "Fuck- Your teeth."

"Too much?"

"No." Yuki grinds on Mammon's cock. "Do it again."

"Fucking asking to touch all my brothers." Mammon growls in Yuki's ear. "If you're gonna pick us all, I'm gonna be your first."

Yuki moans loudly as Mammon's teeth sink into shoulder, and the demon bucks his hips. "On you back." Yuki commands.

Mammon's pact pulls him down onto the mattress. He gazes up at Yuki with wide eyes.

"Was that okay?" Yuki asks as he rest his hands on the demon's chest.

"Y-yeah, ya just surprised me."

"Sorry." Yuki chuckles and lifts himself, pulling his leg free from his pants and underwear. His shirt is just long enough to cover himself. Mammon can't see it, but, when Yuki sits himself back on the demon's abdomen, Mammon can feel how wet Yuki is.

Mammon's hands trace up Yuki's thighs and pushing up the human's shirt. "Damn." He mutters.

Yuki flushes and pulls the shirt back down. "It's okay. You don't have to pretend to find me attractive."

Mammon's eyebrows furrow. "'Pretend?' What the hell are ya- Yuki, you're hot as fuck!"

"I'm really not." Yuki shrugs. "I accidentally got you horny, now you need a release, and I'm a warm body close by. It's okay, I'm mediocre. I get it. You don't have to lie."

"I ain't lying!" Mammon grumbles and flips Yuki over, laying the human face up while he cages Yuki in with his arms. "What the fuck are you talking about? Yuki, you fucking drive me wild! You drive so many demons nuts with how hot you are!"

Yuki stares blankly at Mammon for a beat and then laughs. The human yelps suddenly when Mammon flips Yuki on his back. "Mammon?" Yuki gasps.

"You're fucking sexy." Mammon growls. "If you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you." The demon licks up Yuki's neck, making the human gasp. Mammon's hands sneak under Yuki's shirt, feeling up the human's torso.

"Ma-Mammon-" Yuki moans. "You don't have to-"

"I want to." Mammon pulls Yuki's shirt over the human's head. "I want you."

Yuki looks back silently before nodding. "Okay, just- If you want to stop at any time, I won't be mad."

"Ya don't need to worry about that." Mammon mutters as he trails kisses down Yuki's torso. "Spread your legs for me."

Yuki gulps and does what he's told, opening his legs and revealing his hard clit and wet folds. Mammon rests his hands on the human's thighs and licks his lips. He leans in closer and blows on Yuki's sensitive bud. Yuki gasps, hips jumping forward at the sensation.

"Mammon, please-" Yuki mewls.

"Don't worry. I got you." Mammon says before running his tongue across Yuki's hole. The human's hands shoot to Mammon's hair, one of them gripping one of the demon's horn. Mammon goes deeper, pushing his tongue into Yuki and savoring the human's taste.

"Fuck- Mammon, I- ." Yuki moans, back arching. Mammon shifts his his focus, tongue twisting around Yuki's clit, as two of his fingers slowly enter the human's hole. Yuki's legs encase Mammon's head, pulling him in even more.

"M-Mammon, yes- Mammon." Yuki squirms in the demon's grasp as he repeats Mammon's name again and again. Mammon's fingers pump into Yuki, making the human's legs shake, as the demon sucks and nibbles on Yuki's clit. With a final curse and whimper of Mammon's name, Yuki cums. Mammon feels Yuki's walls squeeze his soaked fingers, and the human's clit pulsing on his tongue.

Mammon pulls away and licks his lips as he looks over Yuki's body. Yuki's chest is heaving, and his body still twitches as he comes down from his high. Yuki's arms have pushed his glasses up as he covers his face. "Yuki," Mammon pulls himself up and kisses Yuki's chest. "Lemme see that handsome face of yours."

"I'm sorry." Yuki chokes out, not moving his arms.

"What the hell are you apologizing about?"

"I just- This is-" Yuki sniffles. "What we just did- Why? How could you- Why me?"

"Ah fuck, are ya crying?" Mammon panics. "Did I hurt you? Did I-"

"No! No, I just-" Yuki wipes his eyes. "It feels so impossible. Mammon, you're- I know I'm not ugly, and that I can be cute sometimes, but I know I'm not sexy. You said that's not true, but you're- You're fucking gorgeous Mammon. You have it all, the looks, the voice, the confidence, the experience, but me- I just- I don't understand how you would ever do something like this with me. I'm just the mediocre nerd who's lucky enough to not be repulsive on a good day."

"What the hell, Yuki? Is that how you see yourself?" Mammon pulls the human in for a hug.

"I mean, how else can I see myself." Yuki murmurs. "Look at me."

"I am, and you're fucking sexy."

"I don't understand how you can say that."

"Because you are!" Flushed, Mammon leans in and kisses Yuki with agrowl. "You don't know how often you drive me wild."

Yuki is silent for a moment before speaking. "I don't understand, but... I know you aren't lying to me. I just- You're you, Mammon, a model with tons of fans who flirt with you, while the only people who try and get my attention want to copy my assignments or ask to cheat off of me during exams. It's obvious what people think of me, so how- Why do you, of all people, think I'm sexy?"

"Yuki, have you seen your face? Have you seen your body? Do you know how often you leave me all hot and bothered? I-" Mammon's face turns a darker pink and takes Yuki's hand, guiding it to hard cock. "Your voice, the way you called my name. The way you moved and moaned for me, I'm hard again because of how fucking sexy you are."

Yuki kisses him.

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

[plus-size-reader]

Pirates

Halloween Special

Dallas Winston x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1664 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader wants to get Dally dressed up as a pirate like her for a Halloween party. He eventually gives in and ends up having too much fun

——————————————————————————————————

Buck had a Halloween party every year.

For a lot of people, especially in your close knit circle, it was the it day of the year and you weren't going to miss it. While you acknowledged that Buck saw every holiday as nothing more than an excuse to get everyone together to finish a keg or two, Halloween was your favorite holiday.

It wasn't something you had in common with a lot of your friends, who saw a party as a party, no matter what it was for, but at least they were going to partake.

If nothing else, they would make some attempt to dress up, that Buck had assured you.

However, as excited as you were for the party itself, you found yourself even more interested in the costume element of the Halloween party. Buck had made it very clear that he was going to be dressing up like a hippie, something you couldn't wait to see.

...And if Buck was dressing up, that mean you all had to as well.

It was essentially a requirement to get in, but even knowing that, you knew convincing your boyfriend Dallas wasn't going to be easy. He had never been one to go out of his comfort zone, or do anything he thought would make him look stupid.

You were sure that he wouldn't partake in some couples costume business, even if you tried to get him to do so.

He was hard headed like that.

Even still, you rushed toward the corner store in anxious excitement,  having just finished your shift at the dinner, with one thing on your mind.

You had been perusing the windows of a new pop up Halloween shop for days on your way to work and while most of the stuff you saw there didn't really interest you all that much, there was one thing you hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

All week, you'd had your eye on a couple pirate costumes that looked straight out of Swiss Family Robinson, and you wanted to get them more than anything. You were just sure that it would be a hit.

The only thing stopping you was Dallas.

Even as you walked down the dark isles, looking at character masks and goofy props, you felt sure that there was no way in the world that you were going to be able to get your greaser boyfriend in something like that.

He would probably just laugh in your face like he had a habit of doing when he thought you were out of your depth. Though, not even your confidence in that stopped you from grabbing a costume from the rack in his size, as well as one in your own.

It was perfect.

Besides, you were so happy when you left there, skipping down the street that not even the fact that you may be going to Buck's party entirely alone didn't bother you. You just allowed yourself to ride the wave you were on, watching cars go past.

It wasn't until you turned the corner to Buck Merrill's place that you started to actually get nervous about proposing your idea to Dallas. He'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't even much of a fan of Halloween in the first place.

For all you knew, he'd throw a fit and refuse to attend at all.

You didn't hesitate as you knocked on Buck's front door, confident that Dally was already there and he'd be expecting you at some point. This was always your first stop after work, knowing how rarely Dal actually went to his parent's place.

He'd been staying with his rodeo partner for as long as you two had been an item and after a couple weeks, Buck had adapted pretty quickly to your presence in his place. At this point, he didn't even question it when you showed up.

After a few moments the door swung open, the lanky blonde standing behind it with that gapped smile you'd grown so used to.

"Hi Buck. Is Dal upstairs?" you asked, handing him the mornings paper as you passed him into the house, barely pausing before heading up the flight of stairs toward where you knew he'd be. Really, you didn't even need to ask, using that as a greeting more than anything.

Still, when the male nodded, you thanked him and headed up fully until you found yourself at Dally's door.

You knew that he'd be waiting for you, just like he did every day, but you hesitated slightly, terrified of how he'd react. You stood there for a minute or so, clutching the paper bag in your arms before opening it.

Whatever happened, you knew that you were overreacting. No matter how bad a fit Dally threw over this whole thing, you would still be able to go to the party, wearing the costume you enjoyed so much.

"What took ya so long?" he grumbled, rolling over in bed to find you standing there in the doorway, his shirt tossed across the room along with his belt and work boots. Dal always paid close attention to how long it took you to get back from work, a bit paranoid ever since you had a bit of a run in with some socs a few months back.

As aloof as he sometimes appeared, Dallas really did love you and he had no idea what he'd do if something happened to you. Frankly, he was just about to head out on his own to go track you down when you showed up.

"Sorry Dal, made a stop on my way back" you shrugged, tossing the male the lighter from the nightstand that he'd left there, which he caught without a second thought. He sat up against the wall, lighting himself a cancer stick mindlessly.

You always told him you thought that was a nasty habit, but he didn't care too much for listening to you about it. In his eyes, you were just listening too much to the gossip at the dinner. All those old birds liked to complain about their husband's smoking problem.

"What for?" he wondered then, taking note of the bag you were holding. He had no idea what could have been so important that you made him worry, but that all melted away as soon as he saw what you were holding.

It had to be a joke.

"Nope. Not gonna happen" he scoffed, not even giving you a chance to try and make a case for yourself before he refused. There was no way he would ever be caught dead in that, the guys would never let him live it down.

"Please Dal, just try it! It's cute" you tried, holding the bag out to him which he took with a heavy sigh, still not convinced. It wasn't until you pulled out the bag that contained your matching costume that his interest was peaked.

It was cute.

It had a starch white blouse and a red pleather skirt that would have made your mother call the pastor, along with a cute tricornered hat that was inevitably too big for you. As much as Dallas didn't like the idea of what was happening, he did want to see you in that.

"One condition" he started, rubbing his brow as he looked you up and down. Uh oh.

That was what Dally always did when he was up to no good. Normally that was enough to make you abandon whatever half-baked idea you'd cooked up, but you were desperate. You wanted to have a good time at the party.

"What is it?" you wondered, rolling your eyes, your hand falling on your hip as you waited. He could be so dramatic sometimes.

After a few moments, he smirked. "You put that on, and maybe I'll try it" he suggested, cocking his head to the side, a wide smile playing on his lips. He was up to something, you knew he was, but that was quite the offer.

If there was even a small chance that Dally would put the costume on for the party, you were going to do whatever it took, and you both knew it. So, you rolled your eyes again and started unbuttoning your dress.

You should have known this was where the whole thing was going, and thinking about it, you laughed. "You're a dog, you know that don't you, Winston?" you teased, fetching the costume from the bag and pulling it on.

It took just a little adjusting over your frame, your thighs taking up more of the skirt than you'd anticipated, but over all it was really cute...something you confirmed by turning around to show it off to the waiting male.

He practically choked on the cigarette at that, taking in every bit of the view in front of him. You looked real good, and it took all he had not to blurt that out like a dunce.

"It'll work" he decided after a few seconds, turning away to crack open a beer. After that, he didn't look back up directly, taking sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't until you scoffed that he met your gaze.

"That's it? Aren't you going to tell me if you'll go or not?" you hummed, reminding him why you'd done this all in the first place.

There was silence for a moment.

Dallas glanced up at you with a small twinkle of mischief in his eyes, before speaking again. "I'll wear it, but you best take it off before I ruin it" he teased, winking at you in that way he always did that flustered you and twisted your tongue.

That was one way to put it.

You weren't entirely sure if he was bluffing or not, but you knew him well enough not to question it. For all you knew, Dallas was telling the truth and you'd have to go out and find a new costume before the party.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Déjà vu - Part III

Character: Bucky Barnes x Tall!Reader

Summary: Bucky thought his days of memory loss were done. But after a serious head injury, he can’t seem to remember anything past his time in Wakanda. But he’s starting feel like his life is missing more than just memories.

Word Count: 5,100

Part II

Bucky didn’t know how he got tricked into actually helping with the new recruits.

No, actually, he knew exactly how.

Steve asked him and Bucky realized Y/N would also be helping.

Things hadn’t changed between Y/N and Bucky since she told him everything.

She still avoided him. 

For the most part, she still appeared to hate him. She ignored Bucky, barely even looked at him when they were in the same room. She was keeping her distance and it didn’t look like that was ever going to change.

Even now, when they were standing just feet apart, both watching the recruits.

Bucky figured he might as well try his best to help and not be a complete waste a space. Y/N would probably be even more annoyed with his presence if he remained silent and useless.

But he chose the wrong person to do it with.

One of the male recruits – who Bucky had caught checking Y/N out too many times to count – was holding his knife incorrectly during a drill.

“Agent Brooks, is it?” He asked politely.

The guy seemed annoyed that he was even being talked to. But he nodded.

“You might want to adjust your grip. You’ll break your wrist if your victim gives up a fight or any kind of push back.” Bucky thought it was a fair criticism to give.

But Agent Brooks didn’t seem to agree. “The US Army would have to disagree...” He muttered, but clearly wanted Bucky to hear.

At this point, Bucky didn’t realize his quiet conversation had caught Y/N’s attention.

Bucky just blinked. “Right. Carry on then…” He didn’t care enough to pick a fight with a cocky recruit.

Agent Brooks moved back to a friend. “The fuck does he know?” He mumbled to him. His friend just laughed.

“I can’t believe they even let him on the compound. Guess they overlooked all the people he murdered,” Agent Brooks added. “He just keeps losing his memory and the government keeps forgiving him.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He could ignore them. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Agent Brooks!” Y/N snapped out of nowhere.

At some point, she’d made her way over to them.

Y/N was notoriously the instructor who almost never even spoke. People looked shocked by her simply raising her voice.

“Did you have something you wanted to say to the group?” Y/N asked impatiently.

“I-I-I–No!” Agent Brooks stuttered. Then he got a little braver. “I just don’t value the criticism of–” His eyes glanced to Bucky. “Of a Winter Soldier.”

Y/N stepped closer to Agent Brooks. He was shorter than her, almost all of the recruits were.

But Bucky noticed how her shoulders and back were held even straighter than usual. And her head was held high enough that she was looking down at the recruit.

“Agent Y/L/N,” Steve warned. 

Bucky hadn’t even noticed Steve come over.

But Y/N ignored the Captain.

Without breaking her glare with Agent Brooks, she pulled out her gun and offered it to him.

He looked confused, but took it anyways.

“Do you not believe in mind control, Agent Brooks?” Y/N asked, raising her voice so everyone could hear. They were already all watching, might as well put on a show.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he stuttered.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“No,” he finally admitted, adding a glare to Bucky for effect.

Y/N crossed her arms and watched him. “Point the gun at Agent Roxwell.”

His eyes widened in horror as his body did what she said, without him wanting it to.

A few people gasped quietly. None of the recruits had known about Y/N’s abilities.

Bucky’s heart started racing as he watched Y/N make an example. He looked at Steve for some kind of help. But Steve knew better than to use his authority against Y/N.

“What’s the matter, Brooks? Feel like you’re out of control?” Y/N asked.

But Agent Brooks didn’t answer. His hand was shaking as he pointed a deadly weapon at his friend.

“Pull the trigger,” Y/N ordered.

He did.

People yelled out, expecting to see their comrade’s brains blown out right in front of them.

But the gun was loaded with blanks.

Agent Brooks dropped the gun and keeled over, gasping for breath.

“You could’ve just killed your friend. What would you have done, Agent Brooks? Run from the government? Waited for them here?” Then she turned to the rest of the group. “But more importantly, what would you tell them when they asked why you shot your best friend?”

Y/N turned back to Agent Brooks. “I guess we know you wouldn’t say mind control…because you don’t think it exists.”

Everyone watched Y/N with shock and fear.

Without giving anyone any chance to react further, Y/N walked out of the training room.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Steve told the group. “You’re released.”

Everyone quickly made their exit, leaving just Steve and Bucky alone in the giant room.

“She didn’t have to do that,” Bucky muttered.

“No, she didn’t.” Steve agreed. He started picking up equipment around the room. “But she’s always been protective of you.”

Bucky swallowed, finding that his mouth and throat were dry.

“Even when she hates me?” He challenged.

Steve paused. “Buck, you and I both know she could never actually hate you.”

Bucky didn’t see Y/N for days after that.

But now he didn’t know if it was him avoiding or her avoiding him.

———————

Bucky was eating breakfast in the kitchen with Steve, minding his own business, when all hell broke loose.

He heard her before he saw her.

Then he gave Steve a look of both fear and betrayal.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t tell her,” Steve immediately defended with his hands held up in surrender.

“Stupid, broken, white boy,” was being mumbled loudly around the corner right before she made her entrance.

Bucky shot to his feet. “Shuri! What are you doing here?”

The Wakandan princess stormed up to him and pointed a finger, jamming it into his chest. “Do not play dumb with me, Bucky! You know exactly what I am doing here!” Her Wakandan accent got even thicker when she was upset.

Bucky looked to Steve for help, but there was no helping him.

“You get amnesia, and you do not think to call and tell me?” Shuri yelled.

Bucky looked over to see that Okoye was in her Dora Milaje uniform, trying to hide a smirk. Clearly she was enjoying the show. “You brought Okoye?” Bucky accused.

“Oh, I’m not here to protect her. I’m here to make sure she doesn’t kill you,” Okoye clarified.

“What is the matter with you?” Shuri asked Bucky. “You are walking around for months without 5 years worth of memories!”

Bucky’s face finally dropped. “I…I didn’t want to bother you,” he admittedly quietly, so Okoye and Steve could barely hear him.

————————

Next thing Bucky knows, he’s being shoved onto a Wakandan jet and getting flown back to the country.

When Shuri got a glimpse of the lab at the compound, she hid her chuckle and muttered something about having a better work space when she was a toddler.

She snapped at Bucky to pack a bag.

Bucky was too scared of her wrath to argue.

But the princess seemed to have calmed down by the time she was piloting the jet back home.

She sighed. “When I said to call if you ever needed anything, I meant it, Bucky. We are friends. We always will be.”

Bucky bowed his head in shame. He intention had never been to insult Shuri.

“I know. I know all that.” He sighed. “I just…I didn’t want to feel more like a burden than I already do.”

Shuri gave him a sympathetic look, but stayed quiet.

“I just wanted to be strong enough to get it all back on my own,” Bucky finished sadly.

Shuri reached over and gripped his hand. “There is no shame in needing help, Bucky.”

“How did you even find out? I told Steve not to call you.”

“Sam,” Shuri answered with a shrug.

“Traitor,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

Another silence filled the jet.

“He also told me about…” she hesitated, “about what happened with Y/N.”

Bucky tensed at just the sound of her name. “I messed up, Shuri.”

“But you still have a chance to fix it,” she countered.

————————

It barely took a few hours for Shuri to scan Bucky’s brain and diagnose the problem. She assured him that his memory loss was not Hydra’s doing. It was just good ol’ fashioned brain damage. But damage that would have nothing against Wakanda’s technology and medicine.

“Are you ready?” Shuri had asked him as she held a weird looking helmet.

Bucky hesitated.

He was about to be reminded of how he broke Y/N’s heart, of all the mistakes he had made that led to him losing her. It was going to be hard to process.

What if the return of his memories was also the return of his old mentality? What if he saw reasoning in his past actions and decided to stay away from Y/N?

Shuri could see Bucky’s thought racing. She leaned forward and gave him an encouraging smile. “It will be fine, Bucky. I promise you that.”

Bucky blinked and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“This might be overwhelming. Your memories could come rushing back or it could take some time,” Shuri explained.

“Will it hurt?” He asked. Not that he cared. He just wanted to know what to expect. Pain had lost its meaning long ago.

“A bad migraine will most likely occur. But other than that? Painless.”

Shuri slipped the helmet on Bucky’s head and then grabbed her tablet, punching a bunch of keys.

Bucky closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“We don’t let just anyone into the family,” Tony argued as he kicked his feet on top of the conference table.

Fury glared at him. “She has prevented World War III from happening more times than you’ve saved both the country and the world, Stark.”

“Oh, really?” He rolled his eyes. “So, how come none of us ever heard about it?”

“Because that was the point. No one was ever meant to.”

Bucky stared at the hologram images that were shuffling through like a slide show. Images of the agent  – Y/F/N Y/L/N was her name. Bucky felt like he was almost too intrigued with the photos. No one else was glancing between her y/e/c eyes or her lips.

Bucky looked up to see that Steve was watching him. And his best friend was holding back a smirk, proof that he knew exactly what Bucky was thinking. Steve recognized that Bucky found her attractive.

“I wouldn’t worry about her trying to be a part of your ‘family,’” Fury said as he stood up, his signal that the meeting was over. “She doesn’t tend to make a lot of friends, keeps to herself, doesn’t talk much.”

“Wonder why…” Tony noted sarcastically.

“Enough, Tony.” Steve scolded him. He turned his attention to Fury then. “We’d be lucky to have her.”

“Figured you’d say something polite like that,” Fury answered before leaving.

That was the first time Bucky saw her. It wasn’t even in person and she’d already caught his eye. He felt guilty after because he couldn’t stop himself from reading her file. Her past was dark – like so many of them.

But Bucky still felt a pull towards her.

“You haven’t so much as given a woman a second glance since your brainwashing was eradicated,” Steve pointed out to him when they were alone. “What’s gotten you so enamored with Agent Y/L/N?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, punk.” Bucky feigned ignorance.

Steve glared at him, insulted that Bucky would ever think he’d believe him.

“She’s beautiful, I’ll admit that,” was all Bucky said before leaving the conference room. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” Bucky almost slurred.

Damn Thor and his too-effective Asgardian liquor. It completely did him in.

Y/N seemed taken back. But she recovered quickly. She reached for Bucky’s drink, “Maybe you’ve had enough of this shit, Bucky…”

The team had dragged her to a bar after a mission had really put them all on edge. They almost didn’t make it.  

Now they all drank at a local dive bar. Tony had taken over the juke box, paid all the patrons’ tabs, and it made everyone leave them alone for the most part.

Bucky let Y/N take his drink away from him. Yes, he was feeling bold and a little buzzed, but he still had his wits about him.

He read her reaction and his face scrunched up in confused. “What? No one has ever said that to you before?”

“Bucky, can you stop?”

He noticed how she always spoke in questions. Not because she wanted to or because it was part of her personality. It was because she was so scared that she’d accidentally tell someone to do something.

“No,” Bucky defied with a smile on his lips. “No, your beautiful. And I’m not telling you that because I’m drunk. I’ve always thought that. I’m just sick of not saying something.”

“No,” Y/N mumbled as she stared at the floor.

“No?” He asked. She looked up at him.

And it was the very first time Bucky saw her not confident or unapologetic or ready to attack at any moment.

Y/N was flustered.

“I’m answering your question. No, no one has ever said that to me – at least…not to my face.” Then she genuinely thought about it. “Well, I guess it’s always been – I don’t know – just alluded? And when it was, it was because they wanted something from me.”

Bucky’s amusement disappeared then. He realized she was being serious.

“Y/N,” his tone was no longer flirtatious and happy. He was serious, voice gone low.

She looked at him. “You are beautiful.”

“Bucky, please–”

“No, shut up.” He cut her off. “You’re beautiful. And the fact that no one has told you that every day of your life is a damn shame.”

Y/N just stared at him, utterly baffled by him.

She’d gotten used to the lack of attention she received from men. She assumed it was a combination of her height and the general ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura she couldn’t stop from having.

But here Bucky was – a man that she had decided almost immediately after meeting was ridiculous handsome and sexy – telling her he thought he was beautiful without hesitation and with no ulterior motives at play.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Bucky now looked disappointed with himself.

“No!” She yelped. “I’m sorry. You haven’t. I just…umm…”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky told her. “Listen, I’m gonna go.” He turned around to start leaving. But then he turned back to her. “But…everything I said. I just…I need you to know that it’s all true. OK?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded. Then she watched him go.

“Fuck me. I need a drink,” she muttered to herself before making her way to the bar.

She was completely zoned out as she waited for her drink. Her eyes were glazed over as she went over and over and over what Bucky had told her.

“You OK?”

She jumped and looked to see that Steve was standing next to her.

“Yeah…umm…Bucky – I think he was pretty drunk.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked without any concern.

“He told me…I was beautiful?” That was putting it lightly.

Steve chuckled. “Oh, he didn’t say that because he was drunk. He’s in love with you.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s in love with you,” Steve repeated and then shrugged.

She glared at him. “Steve, why are you fucking with me right now?”

He chuckled. “I’m not!” Then he finished his drink. His whole demeanor got serious as he turned to fully face her. “And the reason I’m telling you is because I know Bucky, but I also know you. He’s in love with you. And you? I don’t think you know what to do with someone who’d love you the way that Bucky would.”

“Well – fuck, Steve.” She muttered.

“Figured you’d appreciate me getting right to the point,” Steve smiled.

She was stunned into silence.

“You two are my best friends,” he gave her a sincere look. “I think you would make each other really happy.”

It was raining hard out. Every so often a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder would join.

Y/N couldn’t sleep through the noise, but she still enjoyed it.

Bucky was still fast asleep.

Y/N watched him, studying every inch of his face.

He’d grown out a beard in the past few months and she had become quite the fan.

Now she stroked it, not being able to keep her hands off him, even when he was sleeping.

“Hmm…that feels nice,” Bucky hummed without opening his eyes.

Y/N smiled and then brushed some of his hair behind his ear.

“Couldn’t sleep with the rain?” He asked sleepily, slowly opening his eyes and squinting at her.

She nodded.

“Come here,” he lifted his arm, silently telling her to move into his embrace.

She did just that. Burying her face into his t-shirt.

He instantly started combing his fingers through her hair.

“James?”

Only Y/N called him that. And Bucky liked it that way. She called him Bucky around everyone else. But James was saved for when they were alone. Somehow she made a basic name sound like poetry.

“Mhmm?”

“I love you,” she whispered so quietly that she didn’t even know if he would hear her.

She felt his body tense and he sat up and pulled her away so he could look at her face.

He didn’t ask her to repeat herself and he didn’t question her.

But his eyes were searching for some sort of further confirmation.

Y/N just nodded her head. Then buried her face into his neck, hiding.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair as she kissed the top of her head.

But they both had already known his whole perspective on it. He’d done everything to tell Y/N besides say those words, mostly because he didn’t want to pressure her to return them or panic her with his truth.

“I’m scared, James,” Y/N finally admitted in a whisper. She was braver as she burrowed herself into him and didn’t have to stare into his steel blue eyes.

Bucky held her even tighter, letting her fears wash over him. He knew how he wanted to respond. But he also knew nothing he said was going to push those thoughts out of her mind.

“I keep having nightmares where I…” She took in a short breath. “I use my powers on you. Like I’m so scared I’ll lose you that I force you to stay, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

“They’re just nightmares, Y/N.” He told her softly. “I’m always going to love you.”

And that wasn’t a lie. The lie was that he’d make her believe it wasn’t true someday.

Shuri was right about one thing, Bucky had a splitting migraine.

He woke up covered in sweat, like his memories had exhausted him physically as they returned to his mind.

He had to take a shower before he hunted down Shuri.

It felt the same way as someone saying a name of person you hadn’t thought about in forever and all of sudden you think, ‘I forgot that person existed in the world until you mentioned their name again.’

Bucky remembered how it felt when he’d finally heard Y/N talk after she hadn’t said a word to the team in the first few weeks at the compound.

Bucky remembered what her face looked like when she laughed so hard that her stomach started hurting. With it, he remembered how it felt to be responsible for the laugh, how he was jealous of anyone else who did it before he could.

Bucky remembered the first time he saw Y/N cry when she finally opened up and told him about her childhood and the state that Fury found her in. How, even though she was making terrible world leaders and crime bosses kill themselves, she felt like she’d finally learned how to do some good in the world.

Bucky remembered what it did to him every time he subtly stole a few seconds to stare at her long legs. Whenever Y/N would try to self-deprecate her tall and lean body, Bucky immediately shut it down. He refused to let her talk badly about the body that he worshipped.

Worst of all…Bucky remembered breaking her heart. He remembered lying to her, telling her he never loved her and that he never could. He remembered what it felt like to break his own heart in the process. He remembered the guilt that worked its way into his gut as he saw Y/N and Steve’s friendship fall apart because Y/N wanted nothing to do with Bucky, including still being friends with his childhood friend.

Bucky remembered it all.

–––––––––

It felt good to get back to the compound.

The feeling of home had been missing these past few months, having forgotten that it was exactly that: his home. Between the sense of the purpose and the friends he grew to call family, it was the only home Bucky had since before the war.

Bucky walked into the kitchen with his duffle bag to find the majority of the team having some sort of family dinner. There was a dozen pizza boxes on the island. Bucky assumed six of those were for Thor if he decided to stop in.

They all looked at him.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted casually.

But Bucky knew they were all waiting for some kind of indication that Shuri had been successful.

Bucky’s eyes glanced around the room.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Everyone looked around at each other, but stayed quiet.

“She went out out with friends,” Natasha finally broke the tension.

“Where?” Bucky was insistent.

Nat eyed him. “Why should I tell you?”

“Nat, come on,” Steve pled innocently.

She turned her glare on him now. “What? He gets his memories back finally and we’re all just going to let him break Y/N’s heart all over again?”

Bucky looked at all their faces, remembering how everyone had taken Y/N’s side in the breakup, but never vocalized it. Except Bucky didn’t need to hear it from anyone. He knew they blamed him for Y/N alienating herself from group again – just like she had when she’d first arrived at the compound.

———————

Y/N could hardly hear herself think with how loud the music was playing.

It wasn’t a club, but it was nowhere close to being like the dive bars she usually frequented when she went out.

The lights were low and there was a big enough space for a dance floor. There was even a DJ. It was a bar for people who wanted to dance but didn’t like the club scene.

Y/N had moved back to the bar, pretending to fail at getting the bartender’s attention for another drink.

Her friends had caught the attention of a group of men. Y/N was immediately bored with their sad attempt at genuine conversation. But her friends remained amused and Y/N didn’t want to ruin their fun by failing to hide how annoyed and disinterested she was.

So she made a lazy excuse to her friends of getting another drink. The guys didn’t even acknowledge her departure, further proving their eyes were never set on her.

Despite being a woman standing alone and open to be hit on, she was left unbothered by any men. It was the typical scenario for her during a night out.

Y/N was lost in her thoughts, staring off into space.

She wondered how long she could hide there before her friends dragged her back.

The only thing that snapped her out of it was a bartender putting a martini in front of her, one she definitely hadn’t been able to order for herself yet.

Y/N blinked and looked up.

“From the gentleman at the other end of the bar,” the male bartender smiled at her.

Y/N blinked again and stood straighter.

What the hell? Only people in movies did this.

She looked down and her stomach dropped when she saw Bucky waiting for her gaze to land on him.

Y/N would’ve rolled her eyes.

But the way he was looking at her. It wasn’t like Bucky these days. No. It was how Bucky looked at her when they were together.

Y/N suddenly felt hot and nervous. When she reached for the martini, her hand was shaking. She tossed the whole thing back, wincing at the burn.

Then Bucky was in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked him harshly.

Despite the music blasting, she knew his super-soldier hearing would understand her just fine.

“I came here for you,” he replied.

Y/N said nothing.

“I just got back from Wakanda,” he added.

“Oh, yeah?” She pretended like she hadn’t heard that he’d left.

“It was raining,” he said loud enough to be heard over the music.

She squinted. “What?”

“When you told me you loved me for the first time, it was raining.” He clarified. “You already knew I loved you. You knew I was just waiting for you to realize you loved me too.”

Y/N shifted her weight awkwardly, looking around to see if anyone was watching or listening to them. But no one cared.

She put it together as soon as Bucky had said he’d returned from Wakanda, that his memories had been restored. 

But hearing him recite memories still jarred her. 

“Do you remember what I told you when you said you were scared?” He asked.

“Bucky…” Y/N shook her head. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she didn’t want to talk about it. “I said I was always going to love you,” he answered for her.

“Why are you doing this?” She snapped.

“Because I was telling the truth the day. And any time after, where I told you otherwise, was the lie.” He waited. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I loved you. I still love you.”

Bucky stepped closer to her. “I lied because I would’ve rather pushed you away and kept you safe than be with you and risk your life.”

“You’re lying,” Y/N accused and shook her head.

“I’m not. And I know there’s a part of you that realizes that.” He reached forward, cupping her face and making her look at him. “Use it, Y/N. Use it on me. I’ll do anything to get you to understand that I made a mistake. I broke your heart and I broke my own…and it was all to keep you safe.”

He took in a deep breath.

Y/N tried to pull her face out of his grasp, but his hold was steady. Her eyes were watering as she stared into his sad, blue irises.

“Do it, Y/N.” He demanded.

“James…”

“I want you to,” he cut her off.

She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Tell me, James, how do you feel about me?”

The command of her powers enveloped him. He’d never felt the effects of it before. But they didn’t scare him, for she was asking for things that he wanted to tell her.

His hands dropped from her face and he stood still.

“I’m in love with you,” his words came out robotically. But his eyes only held truth. “I never stopped loving you. When I didn’t have my memories, my heart still found you. Even without our history, I still loved you.”

Tears slide down Y/N’s cheeks now.

The forced confession was finished and Bucky’s body relaxed. The effects of Y/N’s powers now faded.  “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was an absolute fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have broke your heart.” Then, to her shock, he started crying. “Tell me what I have to do for you to take me back. Because…Because I can’t live the rest of my life with you hating me.”

He was going to keep going, but Y/N cut him off with her lips crashing onto his.

Her senses could only register the feel of his lips.

Even the loud bar music faded away with the kiss.

Bucky didn’t let her go quickly. He kept kissing and kissing her. He had to make up for lost time and he had to make up for all the hurt he caused her. It would take more than a kiss, but it was a good place to start.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N stared into his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

She was his home. But he nodded his head anyways.

---

When they returned to the compound, the family dinner had turned into a family party. Everyone seemed to have drank their weight in alcohol in the short time Bucky had been gone. But they all cheered when they saw Y/N and Bucky walk in holding hands.

Sam pulled Bucky away, screaming something about shots.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at it.

Then she made eye contact with Steve, who was slowly making his way to her.

“Can we be friends again?” He asked her softly.

She gave him a sad look, finally acknowledging how much hurt she had caused Steve when all she had been trying to do was protect herself from Bucky.

Y/N nodded.

And then was caught off guard when the super soldier pulled her into a giant hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Steve.” She whispered into his shoulder.

“I know you didn’t, Y/N.”

They broke apart and took in the craziness that was their family.

Both of their gazes just happened to fall onto Bucky, who was laughing at something Sam was saying.

“Are you guys going to be OK?” Steve asked her.

“He did a lot of damage. There’s a lot to make up for. It’ll take time and it won’t be easy.” Then she looked at him. “But I hope one day, we’ll be more than OK.”

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

That’s the last part, everyone. But my ask box is open for questions. NOT requests. QUESTIONS. 

Also, let me know what you thought!!!

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twenty Four: The One Where He Snaps

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3174

   Lily knew that Bucky had an unpredictable job. It wasn't a standard 9-5 with a set schedule for the rest of his time in the position like Lily. He didn't necessarily have 'vacation days', or time off. He was technically always on the clock or always on call. But she also knew that he was aware of how important promises were to her. And he had made one to her, and swore that there would be no interruptions. Lily was proud of him, and the job that he did, but the selfish part of her wished that just for one weekend, he wasn't a superhero. That he wasn't The Winter Soldier, and that he was just Bucky. Bucky Barnes, boyfriend to Lily Osborne. Male role model to Hunter Osborne. Even just someone who had a standard job, one that was like hers, 9-5, same work day everyday.

But she knew he loved what he did. And how it helped him satisfy that need for redemption because of his past. She respected that, but that selfish side of her just would not quiet as she stared at the man in front of her.

"Yeah...He's in the living room," she swallowed, shooting a glance over to the supersoldier, "Come on in Sam."

Lily did a sidestep and extended her arm to greet the other Avenger into the cabin. Her breathing had picked up slightly and her throat felt dry. If it were a simple mission, she was sure Sam would have just called. Even texted. Instead, he showed up in person, with a serious look. Something Lily wasn't used to seeing on him. Shutting the door, Lily spared another look at Bucky before walking into the kitchen, filling the kettle once again. Her movements weren't as flowy and graceful as usual, and followed a more so aggressive and clearly annoyed pattern. Anytime she placed something down, it held more of a strength. It didn't go unnoticed by Bucky either. He kept sending her apologetic eyes as him and Sam talked in hushed breaths.

After pouring Sam his tea, Lily placed a few of the cookies Bucky had picked up at the grocery store the night prior on a plate and walked back into the living room where they spoke. Handing Sam the mug, Lily avoided eye contact with the man she was meant to be spending a romantic weekend alone with. After placing the cookies on the table, Lily grabbed her coat and hat, slipped on her boots, and walked out the back door. She didn't intend to close the door as aggressively as she did, but her instincts took over.

Lily watched the sun dip briefly below the treeline as her breath danced in front of her. She cupped her hands around her own mug that she had grabbed before leaving the cabin, and processed what was happening. Bucky had sat before her the day before they left, and took her hands into his own, and swore that nothing would interrupt them. That he had made sure of it. That there were no missions that would require him or have anything to do with him for that matter. The blonde scoffed as she recalled the words, shaking her head and dipping it down lower, staring at her feet against the white of the snow on the deck.

The sound of the door opening behind her caused Lily to lift her head, turning it to glance at who was joining her. It was the opposite of what she expected. Sam stood there with a sorry look on his face, walking forward and leaning on the porch bannister next to the blonde. Neither spoke for a moment, and just stared out at the lowering sun. Her heart fell slightly when she realized Bucky didn't even come out to talk to her himself, and probably sent Sam instead.

"You know he doesn't want to go," Sam began, glancing over at her, "he just spent the entire time we talked begging me to take someone else."

"And why does he have to go?" Lily questioned, eyes not faltering.

"Sometimes some things won't rest easy. And have a habit of returning." Sam replied, folding his fingers together,

This caught Lily's attention. She turned her head to the superhero and placed her mug down on a clear part of the banister. Her blonde eyebrow cocked up as she studied the solemn and far off look in Sam's face. His eyebrows were furrowed and mind seemed to be racing, as if he was struggling to find the words. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wooden banister, trying to silently coax the real reason with proper details from the typically blunt man. She had a way of doing it. It was something Bucky had coined 'the mother stare'. Anytime she gave it to Hunter, or even Bucky for that matter, whatever either may have been hiding came out within seconds. But Sam seemed to have more composure.

"I wish I could tell you, Lily," Sam continued, "I do. But with this...the less you know the better."

"Oh yeah, quite the way to comfort the girlfriend," Lily scoffed, turning her attention back to the treeline, "so what. I go back home and worry like the dotting girlfriend. What do I tell Rose? Gen? What am I supposed to tell my son." She snapped, voice coming out harsher than she expected it to.

"No." He stated simply.

Rolling her eyes, Lily turned to him once again, "No? What do you mean 'no', Sam?"

"You're not going home."

-----

She wasn't a violent or angry person. Farthest thing from it. Lily was docile, timid, and had a good control over her outward emotions. Especially that of anger or frustration. But lord did she want to absolutely lose it on both of the men that stood in the bedroom. Bucky hadn't spoken a word to Lily ever since Sam had arrived. Instead, he merely had a stone cold look on his face with eyebrows knitted together. Lily could barely look at him as she finished putting her duffel bag back together with the clothing she had packed for what she expected to be a romantic getaway for her and her boyfriend.

But even the most timid have a breaking point.

Throwing a shirt into her bag, Lily turned to Bucky, "So this is how it'll be hm? You just aren't going to tell me anything? Great. Now I have to pack up my son and everything and move into an Avengers Compound because of something I don't even know!" The blonde exclaimed.

Bucky nodded at Sam, and the latter left the room and shut the door behind him. Tears welled up in Lily's eyes as Bucky walked forward. He reached out to take her hands in his but she pulled them away, putting the last of her clothing into the bag and zipping it closed. The air in the room was heavy and thick, neither knowing what exactly to do or say. Lily was furious with the entire situation that was playing out, no even per say at Bucky as much anymore, just...everything. It had started perfectly, the weekend. They laughed and talked and learned even more about one another, only to have it end with her learning that she wasn't safe to be at her own house.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Buck," Lily sighed, dropping onto the quilt covered bed, "You promised me- "

"I know I promised you a work free weekend- "

"No!" She exclaimed, looking up at him, "You promised me we would always be safe. Always. That you wouldn't put us in danger in any way."

"Doll..."

"And why can't you tell me what is happening!?" She continued, "If this is putting my son in danger I have the right to know what's going on!"

Bucky moved the woman's duffle bag and took a seat on the bed next to her. She avoided his gaze, but his fingers tugged her chin to look at him. Tears fell down her cheeks, plump and swollen as she stared at him. Her nostrils flared and her eyes continued to water. There was so much going on in her mind that she could barely put into words. She had a suspicious hunch as to why they weren't telling her what was going on, but everything inside of her rejected the thought of it. She feared her parents had done something again, caused wreckage or hurt more people. The only thing that brought her slight comfort was the feeling of Bucky's rough fingers gripping her chin gingerly, staring into her glossy eyes.

"I think you know." Bucky whispered, wiping a tear from her cheekbone with his thumb.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, and her eyes fluttered closed. Lily wished sometimes she wasn't as intuitive. The moment Sam told her that somethings don't rest easy, it had clicked in her head. They were trying to make sure that they didn't go for Lily or Hunter. From the previous run in, she figured it was more so for Hunter's safety and Lily's sanity. But that didn't stop the raging fire that burned deep within Lily's stomach. She wanted to help, because she knew her parents. She knew their personalities inside and out, and she knew that if anything, she could get through to her dad.

"What'd they do?" She choked out, opening her wet eyes.

"They escaped. And are partnered with an engineering firm that has been rumoured to be looking into genetic engineering and mutations using natural resources...something your parents are known for. The natural resources part." He added in the end, a weak smile forming on his lips.

"...how long will you be gone?"

"Not long."

-----

Lily stood outfront of the Avengers compound with a heavy heart. Two suitcases were gripped in her hands as she bit down on her bottom lip. Hunter and Rose apparently had already arrived, leaving Lily to be the last. Sam and Bucky stood behind her, the latter's arm wrapped around her waist. Lily hadn't said a word the entire way down from the cabin, mostly because she was mostly at a loss for words. Her chest was tight and throat felt ten times smaller, and her stomach had been in knots. Everything about the situation made Lily feel queasy, both with fear for Bucky, and anxiety about her family. She didn't know the extent of her parents' mercy, mostly because she hadn't even been aware of the devious things they had been engrossed in. But she felt that most of her worry about her family wasn't necessarily surrounding her parents, but Cedar. She knew her brother. She had helped raise him. Lily knew he wasn't truly capable of these things.

She wanted to help him most of all.

"Let me come with you." She blurted out, looking up at Bucky.

"What?" Bucky questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

"I know my parents. I can help. There won't be a need for violence, I can talk to them." She rambled, letting go of the suitcases and taking Bucky's hands into her own.

"No," he stated simply, shaking his head, "No you're not coming. Lily this isn't as easy as you think. You're staying here, you'll be safe here."

"They're my parents Buck!" Lily exclaimed, "I know them best. I lived with them for eighteen years of my life! I know how they think."

"She may have a point." Sam muttered, earning a deadly glare from the man in front of the blonde.

She knew it was a longshot, and it was most likely just the adrenaline talking. But Lily wanted to do something, instead of sitting at the compound like a sitting duck. Hiding away from her own family. She knew these people better than Bucky, or Sam, or anyone they're working with. Whether she admitted the slight neglectful nature they had, she knew who Alicia and Abel Osborne were, inside out. She knew her mothers ticks and her fathers nervous habits. She knew for a fact she could be an asset for the mission. Because she was an Osborne, the eldest one at that. The one who had been around her parents the longest, and coherently saw them at their lowest.

"No. No I'm not debating this, you're staying here," Bucky said once more, voice firm, "It's not safe. I won't let you be in harm's way. I promised you that."

"You also promised her a romantic weekend away." Sam chimed in.

Both Lily and Bucky turned to look at Sam with an expression of 'really?' printed on their faces. Sam simply shrugged and raised his hands innocently. Though the fact was true, it was not the right time for the comment. Lily raised her hand and whacked the man on the arm, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Bucky.

"You can't deny it's true. I know them, Buck. Better than anyone that will be on this mission."

"No, Lily. You're not coming. End of discussion." He concluded, turning and walking towards the compound, leaving Sam and Lily in the parking lot.

"And you sleep with him." Sam scoffed, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning her head, Lily stared at him with the same expression she had given him earlier. Earning the exact same reaction. Shaking her head, Lily gripped her suitcases and followed Bucky towards the compound.

-----

"Why're we here?" Hunter asked as Lily finished unpacking her clothing. She knew he would ask, but honestly, Lily didn't really have an answer. What was she to tell a twelve year old who had already been through as much as he had? That his moms boyfriend was off to handle his grandparents evil and misguided antics?

Sighing, the blonde beckoned the boy over to her bed, taking a seat and opening her arms for him. Hunter sat beside her and curled into his mother's embrace. She figured he somewhat knew what was going on, and was simply looking for reassurance from his mother. But Lily could barely understand the situation herself. Bucky and the others were across the compound, discussing the mission, leaving Lily with the condensed amount of information she had managed out of her boyfriend. She looked down at her son and smiled with her lips pursed, running her hand through his hair.

"There's just some stuff going on right now buddy, and Bucky thinks it's safer if you and I stay here with Auntie Rose and Joey for a bit. Just to make sure no one gets hurt." Lily nodded, watching as his face fell once again.

"Why aren't you telling me?" He asked flatly, eyebrows furrowed.

She shook her head, "Hunter that's not fair. I'm trying to do what's best here. Just trust me, okay?"

"No!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "Mom tell me! I deserve to know!"

"Do not raise your voice at me, Hunter," she replied, voice calm and collected, "Have I ever done wrong by you?"

"I don't know. You never really told me what happened between you and Dad. And I never asked. You never told me what's going on with Uncle Cedar. You didn't tell me what was happening with Grandma and Grandpa! Bucky has told me more about himself these last few months than you have in the past years!" He exclaimed.

An arrow shot itself into Lily's heart. Hunter was fairly open about what he was feeling, and not once had Lily realized these things plagued his mind. She felt that he wasn't old enough to know what was really going on with the things he had listed, but he was observant. He knew something was wrong. The tears that welled in his eyes made everything disappear around Lily. She had done that. It was her fault he was crying. Because she couldn't face the reality, therefore she couldn't tell her own son.

Standing, Lily reached for the boy, only to have him run out of the room towards his own across the hall. Lily stood in shock with her mouth open and jaw slacked. Tears brimmed her eyes as she stared at the door that had just been slammed, knowing what she had caused was standing behind it. Her heart violently shook along with her hands, mind going blank of all happiness and filling those voids with nothing but pain and regret. Why didn't she tell him? Was it because she was protecting him? Was it because she didn't think he could handle it? Or because she couldn't? Her knees feel weak and met with the hardwood of the floor beneath her. She grabbed at her chest and scratched the porcelain skin, attempting to halt her heart from the rapid beats that sounded like drums in her ears.

Lily really thought she had been a good mother. That her and Hunter had a good and open communication line. That there weren't any major issues beneath the seemingly perfect relationship. She hadn't seen just how much everything was hurting him. A part of her resented the fact that Bucky had been brought up, and the claims Hunter made. It broke her heart. She just wanted him to be okay, to not have to see the true evil in the world. But he saw anyways, sometimes more than she did. And Lily couldn't protect him from it, or hide it away.

She didn't even notice Joey enter her room and curl into her side, pawing at her thigh gently as a way to gain her attention. She instinctively dropped her hand to rest on his paw, the feeling of his fur soothing her slightly. But the heaving continued, and her throat felt tight and dry. Tears streaked her cheeks as she relived the words her son spat at her just moments before. She only snapped out of it when the cool feeling of metal rested on her cheek, snapping her out of the continuous loop.

"Doll, love what's wrong?" He whispered. But she couldn't speak. Words wouldn't form in her throat and her mind could barely function enough to even begin to think what she would say, "Baby I can't help if you don't talk to me."

Lily stared at his cool blue eyes, eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving. Small, inaudible noises escaped her mouth as she continued to dry heave. Bucky pursed his lips and stood, picking her up carefully and laying her on the bed. He knew not to push, and to simply sit there with her for a few minutes. He had shut the door behind him when he entered, and curled the blonde into his chest. His flesh hand stroked her hair as she buried her face deep into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in the woody and musky scent he had. Finally, she violently shook her head and sat up with a new mission in her head.

"I have to tell Hunter everything. He needs to know."

[alexmercer2424]

Hello again! :3 Can you do nsfw headcannon with Caleb Quinn/The Deathslinger with a afroamerican-japanese female survivor? She is a lively/vigorous girl. This girl trying everytime and every worst moment keep the hope ( at least for the sake of her survivor buddies. Promised she would never cry again) This girl love her friend. She very love the western and horror stories. And she love western themed things. Stubborn, cunning and very brave girl ( and little naughty ) And she drinking beer.

Imma do a SFW section as well to play around with the character, but make the NSFW section longer since that’s your ask. Hope you don’t mind!

DBD Deathslinger w/ OC

SFW

Caleb was honestly confused when he saw you regarding your race/ethnicity

Keep in mind he’s from a very old time so you know what he saw? White people that probably looked similar to him

If anything, your exotic mix had him drawn to you because the last thing you want to do is sleep with someone that looks like you, male or female, because there wasn’t much creativity/individuality during his time

Also loves how easy going you are because if there’s one thing he likes to do, is to have a drink, and sharing a drink with you is his favorite time

It was especially fun since the two of you shared stories, from his time alive way back when and your time in the present

He got to hear just how different the world was and to his surprise, you were just as excited to hear about his life

You even claimed to love his ghost stories more because in your words, “horror stories now are getting too predictable”

He is a little jealous of your relationship with the survivors no doubt, but he wouldn’t admit it

However, when he started acting out of place was surprised to be put in his place so quickly by you

How could something so little be so scary?

Im assuming you’re smaller because survivors are naturally smaller

Either way, he learned his lesson, especially since that night you reminded him how different your relationship with him and your friends were

For them, you were a beacon of hope, even if times got rough you didn’t give up

NSFW

For him though, you were a lot more physical and a lot more intimate showing just how much more trust you put in him rather than your fellow survivors

But that didn’t mean you were any less playful

Sometimes you took charge of things, which he didn’t mind at all, and would ride him until he could barely feel his legs

Stealing his hat as you do because tonight you’re going to be the cowgirl and he was going to be your trusty stallion

If anything tho, he’s kore like a bucking bronco…

Tho you’re not complaining

Caleb also had a tendency to always get his hands in your hair, because he couldn’t help but he enthralled by your curls

Im assuming your character has curls because even tho I’m a majority of white, I still have tight curly hair from my black/Latin side

However, he can’t always play with your hair because to his surprise you showed an interest in bondage

He should’ve guessed it as playful and naughty you were but it never crossed his mind

So the first time he got his hands cuffed to the headboard he was less than pleased but soon loved it

Because as torturous as it was for your hands to roam his body without being able to touch you back, he loved the attention

Hated the cockring though, even if it did result in you playing with said cock for hours on end

Depending on how badly you want to punish him

After all, getting sacrificed isn’t the most pleasant experience

But he doesn’t take that excitemebt and energy for granted

Doesn’t exactly have stamina, isn’t exactly needing to catch his breath, so he himself can go for hours

Honestly, if you can get him to cum pretty quickly that’s an achievement in itself

Because otherwise he will happily fuck you until you’re on the brink of passing out which is a feat in itself

Just don’t be mean and put the cockring on him… (lol)

He will pull your hair much more

Especially when you’re going down on him

Will actually tangle his hand in your hair to guide you and force you down on him

Hope you’ve got a good gag reflex

Aka next to none

Because he will have his way with you as a punishment so if you don’t, steer away from that

However, if you’re good, will happily eat you out in return

After all you were his good girl

And he wants to reward you

It’s also a reward for himself because the noises you make are intoxicating, better than any ale he’s had

He could listen to you for hours

And he will

So be prepared because you’re not sleeping anytime soon

[crazybagelbitch]

Hello, me again. I would like to say that even though I just discovered your blog, I don't find you you scary at all. You're opinionated, no nonsense, and strong, and I greatly respect and admire that 😊 Umm secondly, might I inquire on what your honest opinion of Buck is? I remember during the first episode, I did not particularly like him because he seemed like an irresponsible hothead, but I adore his character growth and he has grown on me 😊 What about you?

Hi, first of all thank you! I personally (though of course biased) think I’m far more no nonsense than scary, but you can’t control how people perceive you so if people think I’m scary, it’s whatever. But again, thank you for your words and that’s definitely how I like to view myself more than as a “scary” person.

OKAY. Buck. Here’s the thing: I like his character. He’s adorable and funny. He’s impulsive and self centered at times, which is okay because all characters like all people have flaws. What I DON’T like is the way a large portion of this fandom acts like he’s flawless and can do no wrong, and weaponize this against other characters. He makes mistakes. Everyone was rightfully pissed at him about the lawsuit but nobody “bullied” him. But there were a million fics and complaint posts about how awful everyone was to him, even going so far as to say he was discriminated against... which is wildly offensive because he’s a white male and Hen and Chimney have both faced ACTUAL racist/sexist discrimination in canon.

I do like his character, but sometimes it’s hard not to get secondhand annoyed at him because of all the love and attention and uwu soft boy he gets and villainizing of other characters for his sake... because in the end there’s really no reason that he’s the most wildly popular character by a LANDSLIDE than him being a pretty white boy. I’m not saying he can’t be people’s faves, we all have our favorite characters but... look at the amounts of fics about him and gifsets. Look how excited people are for him to “finally get a real storyline” this coming season when he has had several storylines each season. There’s a huge racism and sexism problem within parts of fans on the show so while I like Buck, sometimes I resent him because my feed is always clogged with him.

This was far longer a response than you probably wanted, so I apologize! I just wanted to try and articulate it correctly.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Pyro and writing (more headcanons that no one asked for, because Pyro the writer is one of my favorite character traits of his that Marvel constantly neglects)

-Overall, his writing is good, but not much more than that.  If he puts in a lot of effort, it can be great, if he’s rushing, it drops down to terrible.  All his books have a few moments of really good writing, showing the potential that he has, and also moments of really dreadful writing.  As long as he gets paid and people are entertained, he’s satisfied, although he does get frustrated when he knows a scene isn’t flowing well, and he doesn’t have the time or skill to fix it.  It’s difficult to make a living as a writer (and frankly, he wants money), so he tends to bang things out quickly and publish as much as possible.  His Marvel bio says that his books were widely read around the English-speaking world, so I’m guessing that he was at least somewhat popular.  Like, he wasn’t at a Stephen King or Danielle Steel level, but people at least knew his name.

-It’s never been clear to me whether his identity as Pyro was publicly known, but I’m thinking it must have been.  If it wasn’t revealed after the Brotherhood went to jail for the first time, surely it would have been revealed after he died saving Kelly, completely out of costume.  I’d imagine it was a mind-fuck for fans who read his books.  Apparently he was still writing and publishing during the Freedom Force era, so either the general public didn’t know, or being a mutant terrorist didn’t lose him any readers.

-He willed the rights for any future royalties to Avalanche when he died.  That didn’t amount to much at the time, but his work became popular again after he died, and publishers re-printed several titles to make a quick buck.  Avalanche wound up with a tidy sum that he used to buy his bar.          

- Pyro has a generally realistic and easy-going attitude about his own writing.  He thinks it’s at least decent writing, but he knows it’s not anything fantastic or ground-breaking.  He’s read the reviews tearing him apart, he knows he’s generally thought of as popcorn, fluff reading (and he’s okay with that), he’ll cheerfully refer to himself as a hack.  But he does get annoyed if someone keeps harping on him as a bad writer, especially if that same person is claiming that writing is easy, like “Any idiot can bang out a romance novel.”  At that point, he turns to, “Oh really?  How many books have you published?  How many books have you even written?  Oh, zero?  You’ve written no books at all?  Then kindly shut the fuck up.”

-He gets similarly annoyed when people disparage the romance genre as being trashy or shallow, especially since there are plenty of popular thriller/mystery/horror/spy novels that Pyro thinks are equally terrible, but those genres don’t have the same bad reputation that romance does.  He argues that romance is just like any other genre - a lot of it is terrible, some of it is complex and beautifully written.  And even if it is terrible, who cares?  Even the terrible stuff serves its purpose.  He usually doesn’t try to defend the genre with his own work (he knows he’s not winning any battles there), but he’s got a few favorite authors that he’ll bring up.  He does read romance on his down time, he genuinely enjoys it.

-There are a few authors he absolutely fan-boys over, but I don’t know enough about romance as a genre to name specific names.  Once, long ago, one of his favorite authors wrote a moderately favorable review of one of his books, and he literally jumped around his living room from sheer joy.  He cut the review out and framed it.

-He always writes straight romance, because that’s the largest market and biggest potential seller.  His heroines are always women, and he writes entirely from their perspective.  He’ll claim that it’s because most of his readers are women, but it also leaves an element of separation between him and the character, which makes it a lot easier to project all his issues into the story.  Which he does do, quite frequently.  Sometimes he tries to write gay male romance, just private stories for himself, but it always feels too personal.  He does start sticking same-sex relationships into his books, though, just in the background.  He couldn’t be too overt without losing some of his readers (at the time that he was writing), but he’d slip in little hints.

-He writes a lot about characters having to hide aspects of their identity, which is his way of dealing with both the mutant thing and the gay thing.  One of his heroines is a white-passing WOC, and her experiences listening to white characters say horribly racist things is very much based on Pyro listening to friends and co-workers say terrible things about mutants.  Of course, it’s rather problematic for him to use race in this way, but he’s definitely got some problematic tropes in his writing.  He doesn’t mean to use it as a metaphor, just an.....emotional outlet.        

-Speaking of problematic, given the time period that Pyro was writing, I think some of his travel articles definitely lean a bit Orientalist.  There’s nothing overtly or consciously racist, he has a great deal of respect and appreciation for the countries and the cultures that he’s visiting.  But he plays up the image of “exotic” and “mysterious” Asia, especially in his earliest articles, because he’s desperate to catch readers’ attention and keep them interested.  If someone brought it up to him now, he’d probably angrily deny it....but he’d also wince re-reading some of his early stuff.  “Yeah, okay, that’s a bit over the top there.”  He gets much better about it later.

-He puts a lot of self-deprecating humor into his travel articles.  He tends to naturally be something of a braggart and exaggerate when he tells stories, but if he writes about himself as a sophisticated world traveler having wild adventures, he’d sound like Gilderoy Lockheart a complete prat.  And Australia’s tendency towards Tall Poppy Syndrome would probably make his work unpopular.  So he puts in a lot of his own stupid mistakes, and presents himself as an adventurer who’s also a bit of a silly ass, bumbling his way through a culture that he doesn’t fully understand.  The events he depicts are mostly true, if exaggerated, but he tends to omit any mysterious occurrences involving fire. Can’t have that, can we?

- He loves the idea of fan fiction.  He was writing fan fiction as a child without knowing the term for it.  And fan fiction of his own work?  He is flattered and delighted.  Of course, he does get rather frustrated when fan fiction depicts his horrible Sebastian-insert as a sympathetic character, but he’ll grit his teeth and put up with it.  Because he’s just so happy that someone liked his work enough to want to write their own version.                   

[kalena-henden]

A sex scene on "Game of Thrones" doesn't normally constitute news. Sex is practically punctuation for the HBO series -- more noticeable in its absence than its presence.

But this week's episode, which saw Arya Stark -- played by 22-year-old Maisie Williams -- do the deed for the first time with her long-time crush Gendry, has invited some extra attention. In the scene, Arya first asks Gendry about his sexual experience (he's had sex with three women), then expresses her desire to have sex. She kisses him, takes his top off, pushes him onto some kind of sack, then orders him to "take your own bloody pants off." It's a powerful and refreshing piece of character development for Arya, but -- judging by the reaction of many viewers -- it also bears the weight of gendered expectations around virginity and sex on-screen, which we would do well to be rid of.

Some found it uncomfortable to see the former child character, who we first met in Season One at age 11, give such a visceral demonstration of her new maturity. Others celebrated seeing Arya assume agency in a show which habitually objectifies young women, uses their bodies as political currency and often deploys sex as a weapon against them. And still others expressed surprise that the keen assassin even wanted to have sex at all -- isn't she satisfied by all that killing she seems to enjoy so much?

Arya, HBO assures us, is now 18. She's spent most of her time in Westeros until now taking brattish, bloody vengeance on her enemies. Were she male, the audience might assume that a virile young warrior would want to kick back and indulge between executions. It shouldn't be surprising that Arya can contain more than one urge in her human body. But as even Williams pointed out in an interview about the episode, much of the value of this scene was in proving her humanity -- "an emotion we've never really seen her engage with." Though she had obviously grown into a young woman before our eyes, her sexual desire wasn't a given. Arya's latest escapade is nevertheless a welcome step in the right direction. Historically, for blockbuster films and TV shows -- including "Game of Thrones" -- straight (and usually white) men losing their virginity has been framed as a heroic high-five with adulthood. For straight women, it's often been a nerve-wracking rite of passage, which regularly sees them submit to male "expertise" during their "first time." "Titanic's" Rose DeWitt Bukater, "Twilight's" Bella Swan, "Gossip Girl's" Blair Waldorf, half the cast of "Cruel Intentions" and so many more millennial role models were shown the way by "worldlier" male counterparts.

Even Daenerys Targaryen's initial discovery of her sexual power -- after losing her virginity through rape in season one of "Game of Thrones" -- is made by way of learning to please the husband who raped her. In getting on top of Gendry, Arya bucked the trend of showing deference to a sexual partner -- and also dispensed with that ton of sexual anxiety we're trained to expect from young women.The sense of jeopardy around the "first time," which for male characters is normally couched in immediate terms of performing well, is often portrayed as more profound for women and girls. The loss of virginity is rarely as simple as "having sex for the first time." Virginity is too often understood in heterosexual terms -- and for people in female bodies, penetrative sex with a man is often seen as the definitive means by which virginity is "lost" and a new womanhood "gained." On-screen, this often comes at a price. In "Juno," the film's 16-year-old namesake gets pregnant the first time she has sex. On TV's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," Buffy's boyfriend Angel loses his soul, and kills several of her friends, after she sleeps with him in Season Two. In the "Twilight" series, Bella's vampire boyfriend Edward makes it clear that there's a high probability he'll get over-excited and eat her if they get too intimate. Sometimes, as is the case for high school senior Lady Bird in the movie of the same name, the cost is the realization that her virginity just wasn't a big deal for her sexual partner.

Examples in which young women express simple curiosity and lust for their own sake are rarer than they should be. Even in an empowering scene where she was in charge, and in an environment brimming with sex, Arya justifies her request for intimacy. "We're probably going to die soon," she tells Gendry. While that heightens the drama and eroticism of the moment, it still frames extreme danger as an excuse to ask the question. It's fair enough -- sex is a solid bucket list item, and legions of men heading off to war have used the same justification to persuade their lovers. But one suspects Arya wanted to know what sex was like irrespective of the circumstances. And it would be more powerful still to see a young woman say she'd like to try sex with someone just because she wants to. Sex on screen is undergoing a gradual evolution. Vulnerability and agency increasingly co-exist, and we are slowly seeing more examples of first-time sex that aren't heteronormative, patriarchal or defined by rape. Generation Z programs like "Sex Education" are taking up the mantle of millennial shows like "Skins," showing more diverse and nuanced takes on sexual exploration for all genders. It's taken time, but old-fashioned sexual cliché is slowly being eroded.

All things considered, it is strange that Arya's first foray into lovemaking on "Game of Thrones" should be so noteworthy. Just a few years ago, her older sister Sansa Stark's brutal rape on her wedding night -- when she was younger than Arya was during her sex scene -- was taken more in the show's stride. But Sansa's experience was apparently more in keeping with the series' tone. But a young woman claiming her sexuality apparently still challenged some viewers who found it difficult to watch an adolescent have sex, in the knowledge that she hadn't always been adolescent. For young female audiences who are too often fed a diet of nerves and submission around first-time sex however, Arya's approach marks a welcome shift toward sexual autonomy. Hopefully, in the near future, examples like hers will no longer be seen as radical acts.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Colonialism

You back into things sometimes.

One of my many guilty pleasures is old school pulp, which I first encountered with the Doc Savage reprints in the 1960s, then old anthologies, then back issues at conventions, and now thanks to the Internet, an almost limitless supply.

And to be utterly frankly, a lot of the appeal lays in the campiness of the covers and interior art -- brass plated damsels fighting alien monsters, bare chested heroes combatting insidious hordes, etc., etc., and of course, etc.

Once past age 12, I never took these covers or the covers of modern pulps such as James Bond, Mike Hammer, or Modesty Blaise seriously; they were just good, campy fun.

While my main focus remained on the sci-fi pulps, I also kept an eye on crime and mystery pulps, war stories, and what are sometimes called “sweaties”, i.e., men’s adventure magazines.

Despite the differences in the titles and genres, certain themes seemed to pop up again and again.

Scantily clad ladies, typically in some form of distress, though on occasion dishing out as good if not better than they got.

Well, the pulps that drew my attention were the pups made for a primarily male audience (though even in the 1930s and 40s there were large numbers of female readers and writers in the sci-fi genre).  Small wonder I was drawn to certain types of eye candy; I had been culturally programmed that way.

That’s a topic well worthy of a post or two on its own, so I’m putting gender issues / the patriarchy / the male gaze aside for the moment.

What I’m more interested in focusing on is the second most popular characters to appear on the covers (and in the stories as well).

The Other.

The Other comes in all shapes / sizes / ethnicities.  Tall and short, scrawny and beefy, light or dark, you name it, they’ve got a flavor for you.

“Injuns” and aliens, Mongols and mafiosi, Africans and anarchists.

Whoever they were ”they ain’t us!”

Certain types of stories lend themselves easily to depicting the villainous Other.

Westerns, where irate natives can always be counted on to launch an attack.

War stories, where the hero (with or without an army to help him) battles countless numbers of enemies en masse.

Adventure stories, where the hero intrudes in some other culture and shows them the error of their ways.

Detective stories, where the Other might be a single sinister mastermind but still represents an existentialist threat.

And my beloved sci-fi stories?

Why, we fans told ourselves our stories were better than that!  We didn’t wallow in old world bigotry, demonizing blacks and browns and other non-whites because of their skins.

Oh, no:  We demonized green skinned aliens.

Now I know some of you are sputtering “But-but-but you wrote for GI Joe!”

Boy howdy, are you correct.

And boy howdy, did we ever exploit the Other with that show.

I never got a chance to do it, but I pitched -- and had Hasbro accept -- a story that would have been about the way I envisioned Cobra to have formed and been organized, and would focus on what motivated them.

They were pretty simplistic greedheads in the original series, but I felt the rank and file needed to be fighting for a purpose, something higher to spire to that mere dominance and wealth.

I never got to do “The Most Dangerous Man In The World” but I was trying to break out of the mold. 

For the most part, our stories fit right into the old trope of The Other.

Ours were mostly about the evil Other trying to do something nefarious against our innocent guys, but there’s an obverse narrative other stories follow, in which our guys go inflict themselves on The Other until our guys either come away with a treasure (rightfully belonging to The Other but, hey, they really don’t deserve it so we’re entitled to take it from them), or hammer The Other into submission so they will become good ersatz copies of us (only not so uppity as to demand equal rights or respect or protection under law).

These are all earmarks of a very Western (in the sense of Europe and America…with Australia and New Zealand thrown in) sin:  Colonialism.

Now, before going further let’s get out terms straight.

There’s all sorts of different forms of colonialism, and some of them can be totally benign -- say a small group of merchants and traders from one country travel to a foreign land and set up a community there where they deal honorably and fairly with the native population.

The transplanted merchants are a “colony” in the strictest sense of the term, but they coexist peacefully in a symbiotic relationship with the host culture and both sides benefit, neither at the expense of the other.

Oh, would that they could all be like that…

Another form of colonialism -- and one we Americans are overly familiar with even though there are all sorts of variants on this basic idea -- is the kind where one culture invades the territory of another and immediately begins operating in a deliberately disruptive nature to the native population.

They seek to enslave & exploit or, failing that, expel or eradicate the natives through any means possible.

It’s the story of Columbus and the conquistadors and the pilgrims and the frontiersmen and the pioneers and the forty-niners and the cowboys and the robber barons.

It’s the story where different groups are deliberately kept separate from one another by the power structure in place, for fear they will band together and usurp said power structure (unless, of course, they band together to kelp make one of ours their leader, and build a grand new empire just for him).

It’s the story where our guys never need make a serious attempt to understand the point of view of The Other, because they are just strawmen to mow down, sexy lamps to take home.

I think my taste in sci-fi and modern pulp writing in general started to change around the mid-1970s.

Being in the army quickly cleared me of a lot of preconceptions I had about what our military did and how they did it.

The easy-peasy moral conflicts of spy novels and international thrillers seem rather thin and phony compared to the real life complexities of national and global politics.

Long before John Wick I was decrying a type of story I referred to as “You killed my dog so you must die.”  Some bad guy (typically The Other) does a bad thing and so the good guy (one of ours -- yea!) must punish him.

Make him hurt.

Make him whimper

Make him crawl.

Make him suffer.

The real world ain’t like that.

Fu Machu falls to Ho Chi Minh.

As entertaining as the fantasy of humiliating and annihilating our enemies may be…we gotta come to terms with them, we gotta learn to live with them.

That’s why my favorite sci-fi stories now are less about conflict and more about comprehension.

It’s better to understand than to stand over.

. . .

The colonial style of storytelling as the dominant form of story telling is fairly recent, dating only from the end of the medieval period in Europe and the rise of the so-called age of exploration.

This is not to say colonial story telling didn’t exist before them -- look at what Caesar wrote, or check out Joshua and Judges in the Old Testament -- but prior to the colonial age it wasn’t the dominant form of storytelling.

Most ancient stories involve characters who, regardless of political or social standing, recognize one another as human beings.

And when gods or monsters appear, they are usually symbols of far greater / larger forces & fates, not beasts to be subdued or slain.

Medieval literature is filled with glorious combat and conflict, but again, it’s the conflict of equals and for motives and rationales that can easily be understood.

It was only when the European nations began deliberately invading and conquering / dominating foreign lands that colonialism became the dominant form of storytelling.

It had to:  How else could a culture justify its swinish behavior against fellow human beings?

Even to this day, much (if not most) popular fiction reflects the values of colonialism.

Heroes rarely change.

Cultures even less.

We’ve kept The Other at arms length with popular fiction and media, sometimes cleverly hiding it, sometimes cleverly justifying it, but we’ve had this underlying current for hundreds of years.

Ultimately, it hasn’t served us well.  

It traps us in simplistic good vs evil / us vs them narratives that fail to take into account the complex nature of human society and relationships.

It gives us pat answers instead of probing questions.

It is zero sum storytelling: The pie is only so big, there can’t be more, and if the hero doesn’t get it all, he loses.  (John D. MacDonald summed up this philosophy in the title of one of his books:  The Girl, The Gold Watch, And Everything.)

It’s possible to break out of that mind set -- The Venture Brothers animated series brilliant manages to combine old school pulp tropes with a very modern, very perceptive deconstruction of the form -- but as posted elsewhere, imitation is the sincerity form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness, so while I certainly applaud The Venture Brothers I don’t want to encourage others to follow in their footsteps.

Because they won’t.

They’ll pretend they will, but they’ll veer off course and back into the old Colonialism mindset.

We need to break out, break free.

Here in the U.S. it’s African-American History Month.

The African-American experience is far from the Colonialism that marks most white / Western / Christian storytelling (and by storytelling I include history and journalism as well as fiction; in fact, anything and everything that tells a narrative).

It’s a good time to open our eyes, to see the world around us not afresh, but for the first time.

Remove the blinders. 

I said sometimes you back into things.

Getting a clearer view of the world I’m in didn’t come from a straightforward examination.

It came from a counter-intuitive place, it found its way back to the beginning not by accepting what others said was the true narrative, but by following individual threads.

It came from Buck Rogers and the Beat Generation and Scrooge McDuck and the sexual revolution and Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance and the civil rights era and Dangerous Visions and the Jesus Movement and Catch-22 and the Merry Pranksters.

It came from old friends, some of whom inspired me, some of whom disappointed me, and yet the disappointments probably led to a deeper, more penetrating insight into the nature of the problem.

This Colonialism era must come to a close.

It can no longer sustain itself, not in the world we inhabit today.

It requires a new breed of storytellers -- writers and artists and poets and journalists who can offer 

It’s not a world that puts up barriers by race or gender, ethnicity or orientation, ability or age.

There’s ample opportunity for open minds.

All it asks of us is a new soul.

  © Buzz Dixon

[keeroo92]

My Angel (Dante x Reader)

My first attempt at Dante x Reader based of a prompt of Character A kills someone who is trying to kill Character B. B is shocked and A gets defensive until the following exchange."You're not scared?" "Of you? Never."

Trigger warning - graphic scene of non-con. Promise it ends happy :)

______________________________________________________________

“I love you.”

The three words sent your mind reeling. You stared at his earnest sapphire eyes, able to see the vulnerability that speaking the words had cost him with ease. You wanted to run and hide.

My best friend is in love with me.

Fuck.

You’d known Dante for years. He’d been there when no one else was, been the person you turned to in times of crisis. He was the person you called after your mother had been in a car wreck. The person you vented to about your dating troubles. The one who came to get you when you found yourself stranded one hundred miles from home.

And he was in love with you.

Fuck.

Have I been taking advantage of him and not knowing it? Did I lead him on, give him hints?

Not a single memory came to mind where you intentionally flirted with him or even casually touched him. You hugged, sure, but the type of contact that came with sexual attraction was never something you shared with the white-haired man. There was nothing, no drunken dirty dancing or double entendre. No awkward comments or anything.

The man in question sat beside you on one of the squishy couches at his place of business, one you’d sat on with him numerous times over the years. Now the atmosphere was different, from three crucial words. He stared at you, waiting for some kind of response.

Fuck.

“Since when?” you blurted. Dante smirked, his hands shifting from his knees to clasp together as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

The beat of your heart was erratic, too fast. You were sweating, your hands shaking as panic flooded your senses. How the hell were you supposed to handle his confession?

Dante glanced at your face and the light of hope in his eyes flickered out, so subtly you didn’t even notice as he lightly punched you in the shoulder.

“Gotcha!”

Wait, what?

He was kidding?

It made more sense. He played practical jokes on you regularly, and you on him. But this felt different. He’d never played a joke that messed with your emotions, not once. This wasn’t like him.

I don’t know what to believe.

It was irrelavant matter what the truth was – both options were unacceptable. Either he was trying to pretend he didn’t have feelings for you to give you an out, or he had pulled a cruel prank on you.

Motherfucker.

“You fucking asshole! I can’t believe you!” you shouted, standing in a single fluid motion powered by rage. He laughed, adding insult to injury. It sounded wrong, but you were too far gone to care as you grabbed your purse and jacket, stomping over to put your sneakers on and leave. To run.

“Hey, it was just a joke! You can stay,” he began. “I’ll order some pizza and we can play games like we always do.”

You finished tying your shoes and snarled at him, hands trembling. “Don’t fucking follow me. I can’t deal with you.”

With a slam of the door, you left him alone with the echoes of your fury. The walk home took only ten minutes most nights, but you needed extra time to think before facing your roommates. Instead of turning right, you went left. You paid little attention to where your steps led you as you angrily strode onward.

Unbelievable! Who does he think he is? What the fuck am I supposed to believe now? Does it even matter?

In the grip of your blind rage, you covered several city blocks in a matter of minutes. There was little traffic and as it got dark, the streets became even more vacant. The few pedestrians all but vanished until you pictured yourself as the only person in the city. Isolation gave you clarity. You always did your best thinking alone.

I don’t want to lose our friendship. How can we move past this bullshit? Can I forgive him for the joke, if that’s what it was?

What if he was serious?

Fuck.

You growled in frustration as your thoughts returned to the same conclusion over and over. A confrontation. Just ask him, straight up. He’d be honest with you.

Wouldn’t he?

I don’t know.

The energy faded away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you exhausted as you leaned against a brick wall and tried not to cry. A few tears slipped past your defenses anyway and you scrubbed them away with the sleeve of your shirt. Sleep never sounded so appealing, and you scanned the area to discern where you were and find a route home.

The buildings surrounding you were stone, and all crumbling away. Someone had boarded over many of the doors and windows, a few with broken glass on the ground beneath the window frame. You recognized none of it.

Fuck.

Guess I’ll just turn around then, been walking in a straight line for a while.

Three blocks passed and panic bloomed in your chest as you still failed to figure out where you were. You walked faster, noticing figures standing in alley ways doing who knew what. Unsavory things, most likely

A loud clatter behind you made you turn your head, your feet moving even as you checked for threats. You didn’t spot the one in front of you.

A grimy hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you sideways into an alcove. You gasped in surprise, your panic morphing into full blown terror as you saw the barrel of a gun pointed at your forehead.

“Good, got your attention. Gimme your wallet, jewelry too.”

The thief’s face remained hidden the shadows, but by the sound of his voice, he was male and probably a smoker. You swallowed nervously and moved your hands to your purse strap on your shoulder, taking it off and handing it over without a word.

“Ah, obedient lass. Show me your fingers and wrists. And your neck and ears too, can’t have ya hold out on me.”

Tears began to stream down your face as you obeyed a second time, putting your grandmother’s earrings on full display. You hoped your pendant distracted him, but his greedy eyes spotted everything.

“Right, take em off.”

The necklace was easy to part with, just a trinket not worth over twenty bucks. You tried to catch the man’s eye but still the shadows blocked you.

I have to try.

You took a deep breath and summoned your courage. “Please, sir. My earrings were my grandma’s, they aren’t even valuable-“

“I don’t care. Take em off.”

“Please. Can’t I give you something else?”

“You got anything else you better fork it over too, missy. No more games.”

No! They’re all I have!

“Take me to an ATM, I can get you cash instead. I have a couple hundred-“

He cocked the gun. Breath escaped you in a quiet gasp as his finger drifted to cover the trigger. You saw straight down the barrel; you’d be able to see the bullet coming at you. Or, you would if you were faster. If you were lucky, you might catch the flash before you died.

You started sobbing in earnest as your violently shaking hands moved to your ears. It took a few tries to remove the earrings and you dropped them into his grimy hand with a shudder of revulsion. The instant they left your palm, your heart broke as if your grandmother just passed all over again. The man smiled cruelly.

“Y’know, I always said there’s nothing as beautiful as a woman crying. I’m gonna take one more thing from ya, little lady. If you stay obedient, I might even let you live.”

Your blood ran cold, your body frozen as his hand tugged your wrist again and dragged you into a narrow alley. There wasn’t anything to hide behind – he meant to rape you right out in the open.

Fuck, what do I do? What do I do?!

You heard fabric rustling as he removed his pants, felt as his hand roughly tugged your bottoms down and revealed you to the night. You wondered what he’d do with the gun while he… did his business. The cold press of metal on the back of your neck answered that question as he forced you to turn around and face him.

“Now, let’s get you warmed up… stay quiet or else.”

The gun moved down your spine, still pressed against you so you tracked its every move as it neared your core. It was still cocked, and your teeth dug so deeply into your lip you tasted blood as he slid the cold metal inside you. He laughed, crouching down to get a better view.

“Ooh, look at that. Quite a pretty pussy you’ve got, missy. And it looks so good taking my gun. Let’s see what else you got. Take off your shirt.”

“P-please-“

“Do it or I’ll ruin that perfect pussy with a bullet.”

He thrusted the barrel deeper, and you raised your shaking hands to do as he said. You held your top tightly in one hand as he waited for you to remove your bra. He didn’t even have to ask. The sobs didn’t stop as you reached behind you to unlatch the hook, letting the straps fall down your arms and you let the brown bra tumble to the ground.

You never wanted to see it again.

“What a good girl you are, so trainable.”

He slid the gun in and out of you a few times and you struggled to relax the muscles enough so it didn’t hurt. You heard the sick squelching sound as your body responded to the intrusion by releasing fluid to ease the foreign object’s passage.

“Oho, she likes it! You naughty girl.”

No, you’re wrong! You don’t understand!

You wanted to scream, to shout and beat him senseless with your bare hands but there was nothing you could do as his free hand, stained with dirt, rose to explore your chest. Your nipples were already hard from the chill in the air, but this sick fucker took it as more proof of your enjoyment.

“What a slut, getting turned on by having a loaded gun shoved up her pussy. Think you're ready for my me now.”

Oh gods… someone help me, please!

The tip of his length probed you, testing your wetness. The ferocity of your crying made your teeth clack together, and disgust filled you from your body’s betrayal as he inched his way inside with a deep moan.

“Oh, you’re a tight little lass! Such a perfect pussy, gave my gun a home and now it’s welcoming my cock.”

He tweaked your nipple, then lowered his filthy mouth over it and suckled like an infant before biting down. He bit all across your breast tissue, leaving marks of your shame.

His thrusts were slow as he licked you from nipple to earlobe. When he reached your ear he whispered, “Tell me how much you love this cock, how you’re a dirty little whore and you love being raped.”

I can’t… I can’t do this.

You did your best to disassociate from your emotions, putting them on hold until it was over and you had the luxury of dealing with them. For now you had to be stoic and do whatever he asked of you, or die.

You did everything imaginable to hide your expression from his leering as you opened your lips, but his hand came up to turn your chin so you were face to face with him. His cheeks were filthy, his mouth missing teeth and grizzled lines running here and there. It was too dark to see his hair or eye color but what did it even matter?

“I love your cock. I’m a dirty little whore and I love being raped.”

His thrusts accelerated, the pace painful as he forced his way deeper to scrape against your innermost walls.

Breathe, just keep breathing. It’ll be over soon.

“Cry for me, show me them tears.”

You stared at him blankly, still cut off from your emotions. There were tear tracks on your face but none were fresh. To experience the force of your terror and shame would break you; you denied it the chance. Refused to allow this horrible piece of filth to have that power over you.

You couldn’t summon a single tear.

The man raised his gun and struck your cheek with the handle, turning your head to the side where you let it stay. You closed your eyes, praying for him to finish and leave you alone. He pressed the barrel to your temple, the metal digging into your flesh as he growled at you.

“I said cry, bit-“

A gunshot echoed through the alley and for a moment you thought he’d pulled the trigger, that when you opened your eyes you would be in whatever form the afterlife took. But the bricks still scratched against your back and the cold air still caressed your bruised skin.

Then a sudden emptiness struck you as the man’s body fell away from yours. You gasped as you heard the clatter of his gun hitting the ground, but it didn’t go off.

“Fuck, come here, Y/N,” a familiar voice said.

You opened your eyes.

Dante.

He held out his red leather jacket to you, his eyes respectfully averted from your exposed skin. Your shaking hand accepted the offering without a coherent thought, arms going through the sleeves and pulling the coat across your chest as if nothing happened.

“You can look now.”

His cyan eyes met yours and the raw expression on his face shook you from your stupor. The dam burst, the tears painting your cheeks once more as violent sobs wracked you. He stepped forward with caution, giving you the time to move away if his comforting hug wasn’t welcome. It was.

You buried your face in his shoulder and wailed, unable to hold in any of the pain and horror any longer. He wrapped his arms around you and rocked your bruised and battered body, murmuring reassurances that it was over and the man was gone.

Wait… what does he mean, “gone”?

You pulled away and looked.

Fuck. Holy shit.

The man who assaulted you lied on the ground in a pool of blood and brain tissue, a hole the size of your fist in the side of his skull where Dante had shot him.

“He’s… he’s dead,” you choked out. The broken sound of your own voice shocked you, and you realized you’d never seen a dead body before.

“He was… he was hurting you,” your friend replied defensively. He lowered his arms to let you control the distance between you, hesitant as he tried to give you whatever you needed. The muscles in your neck contracted as you gagged, the smell too much to bear. It took a moment to recover, but once you managed it you met Dante’s gaze.

“I… I know.”

He reached out an arm as if to rest it on your shoulder, but paused as you flinched at his quick movement. The pink line of his lower lip vanished as he chewed on it, trying to figure out what to say. He sighed.

“I had to. I couldn’t- I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore. I had to,” he murmured haltingly. His eyes were troubled, tortured as he crossed his arms and stared at the corpse of the man he’d just murdered to protect you.

Suddenly you knew he’d been telling the truth earlier that night, knew beyond any doubt that he was in love with you. It was impossible for you to process if you might return the sentiment then, the trauma too fresh. It could wait. For now, all you felt comfortable offering was your friendship and gratitude.

You stepped closer to him, grasping his chin with both hands and turning him to face you. He kept his eyes elsewhere, his stubborn streak showing itself.

“Hey, hey! Look at me,” you ordered. The steadiness of your voice surprised you, expecting it to still have lingering echoes of your pain. His conflicted blue gaze met yours obediently and you smiled at him.

“I know, okay? That motherfucker was going to kill me. You saved me,” you told him emphatically. He uncrossed his arms and you dropped your hands, continuing after a quick glance back at the remains of your attacker. “I’m just… shit. I’m just shocked, I guess?”

“But not scared?” Dante replied. He still looked uncertain in a way you’d never seen in all the many years of your friendship.

He thinks I’m scared… of him?

Am I?

The white-haired man waited for your response as you stared at him in silence, assessing your reaction to his presence. The shape of his hands, the angles of his face, even the obvious strength of his powerful muscles… None of it evoked any fear within you.

You felt safe.

You smiled, scoffing as you reached out to flick his forehead in a gesture you knew he found irritating.

“Scared? Of you? Never.”

He grinned, his posture relaxing at last with your familiar teasing. You wrapped him in another hug, sighing as the tension drained from your body. He held you close, letting you lean against him and taking your weight without complaint. The two of you stayed that way for a long moment until he pulled away.

“I guess we should call the cops, huh?”

You grimaced, knowing there would be questions. The man was dead, people would want explanations.

What if Dante gets in trouble? What if they put him in jail?

Fuck.

“I… I’m not sure… I mean, what if they arrest you?”

He huffed, a confident gleam in his eye. “There’s no way. No cop would be dumb enough to bring someone in for shooting a rapist.”

You gave him a dubious glance.

“You just shot him, though. What if they say you should’ve tried something less lethal first?”

He brought his hands to his hips and glared at you. “He had a loaded and cocked gun aimed at you! If I didn’t kill him with one hit, he would’ve put a bullet in your brain!”

A sired whooped from the entrance to the alley, a policeman already approaching and blocking the flashing lights. Someone must have taken the choice out of your control.

Fuck.

The cop had his pistol drawn but pointed at the ground, his partner crouching behind the open door of the vehicle to give him cover. The officer closer to you spotted the corpse with ease, his trained gaze shifting back to rest on you and Dante with a new sense of fear.

“Hands up, right now. Both of you!”

You shared a look with your friend and obeyed. A thin strip of your sternum became exposed to the air as Dante’s coat shifted, and you saw the cop’s eyes widen. Dante followed your lead, raising his palms.

“Evening officer. Uh, so… for starters, I’m armed,” he said awkwardly. The officer gulped.

“Slowly, set any weapon on the ground and take three steps back.”

Two guns and a pair of brass knuckles were soon on the asphalt as you and Dante stepped backward blindly. The policeman came forward and used a tissue to pick up the pistols, sliding the knuckles behind him with his foot.

“Tell me what happened.”

Fuck.

You cleared your throat and began, not giving Dante the chance to answer. It was your choice how much to say, and you spared nothing. Both men cringed and gave you an expression of sympathy as you described what the man had done with his loaded weapon, how he had forced you to say things you never would otherwise. Dante clenched his jaw angrily as you neared the end.

“He… he told me to cry. He liked it when I cried before. I couldn’t though, I was just… too shut off. He hit me with the gun and held it back to my head. I closed my eyes, so I didn’t see it happen, but that’s when Dante shot him.”

You fell silent and stared at the ground, studying the grain of the pavement as you took deep breaths and tried to disassociate once more.

The cop holstered his weapon and stepped closer. Seeing his colleague relax, the other man at the car followed suit and joined the group.

“Jesus…” he said as he got a better view at the carnage. He looked at his partner as if to ask what happened, but the first man in blue simply shook his head.

“Kevin, call an ambulance and a coroner. Might need forensics, too. Have them bring a rape kit and tests for GSR.”

The second cop, Kevin, nodded and retreated to make the arrangements.

“I’m Officer Kingsley, you can call be Rob. What are your names? And you can lower your hands.”

You gratefully lowered your trembling arms and pulled Dante’s jacket closed once more as he introduced you both. The cop led you back to the vehicle, offering you some bottled water. You leaned on the hood and drank as you waited for the rest of the summoned teams to arrive, listening with half your attention as Dante gave his version of events to Kevin.

Rob came to join you with a pad of paper in hand. He sighed and took off his cap, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m really sorry, but we need your statement too. The more detail you give us, the better. Cases like this… they can get messy without a full report,” he said regretfully. You nodded, swallowing anxiously as you accepted the pad and a pen.

As you finished the last sentence, your heart raced from reliving the whole night. Rob waved Dante over and he joined you on the hood as the officer walked a respectful distance away.

“How you feelin’?”

You clutched the leather seam of his coat tightly, looking back down the alley as you tried to calm your nerves.

He’s dead, it’s over. I’m safe.

“I’m… not great,” you began with a sniffle. “I mean, it’s been a long night. I just want to go home and sleep. But…”

You sighed. Roommates were the worst sometimes.

“My roommates will ask me what happened.”

Dante grunted, leaning back slightly and catching your eyes.

“You wanna crash at my place? Uh… on the couch, of course.”

Right. There was still that fun conversation to look forward to.

Fuck.

In the state you were in, you knew you couldn’t deal with his feelings or even assess your own. It would take time for you to recover enough to face it, especially after everything that happened. Dante saved your life, that much was unquestionable. But you didn’t want to confuse your gratitude for something more. He deserved better than that.

“Look… I know you weren’t kidding earlier. And I’m still mad you tried to backtrack,” you began. He cringed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort as you called him on his bullshit. “But I just can’t respond to it yet. Not after this.”

You gestured at the alley, the implication clear. Dante nodded in understanding, though his face remained tight.

“Yeah, you caught me. I get it, take as long as you need. And if you wanna pretend I never said anything, that’s fine too. I didn’t expect you to pounce me or whatever. Just thought you deserved the truth.”

“And then you decided to lie and play it off as a joke.”

He raised his hands with a sardonic chuckle. “Guilty as charged. Sorry for that…”

You stared at him questioningly, waiting.

“I guess your reaction freaked me out a bit? You had that face, the one you get when you want to run away.”

I shouldn’t have left. None of this would’ve happened if I wasn’t such a coward.

You sniffled again, gulping back the tears threatening to fall yet again. Dante put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest gently. It would have been easy for you to slip out of his grasp, but you didn’t. You inhaled deeply as you rested your cheek over his heartbeat, listening to its rapid pounding. You gave him a smirk and he shrugged, as if to say he couldn’t help it.

“Thank you, Dante. I’m glad you were there.”

He hummed and pressed a brief kiss on the crown of your head, then muttered an apology as he realized what he’d just done.

You barely heard his words, too busy with the unfamiliar rush his simple gesture had given you.

Fuck.

[tendonsatire]

Captain

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve's enemy catches his in a somewhat intimate moment.

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation(male), fleshlight usage, taunting, kind of smut but no penetrative sex, a little bit of oral both receiving, fingering, Captain kink, bj, 18+ only, don’t read if you are a minor

A/n: This is a definite character x enemy story to which the reader wants to pretty much destroy Cap. Anyways check out my favorite superhero Guillotine with the link "Guillotine" in the first paragraph. She is supposed to be one of Cap's teammates on the Champions game app, but she's a bad guy in this soooooo yeah. Sorry if it's not good, I'm not great at writing and have written little smut before. 

for @itscaptainyoulittlemaggot Steve Rogers Writing Challenge

Her name is Guillotine. Or at least that's what Steve Rogers, Captain America knows her as. She is the latest of her bloodline to inherit "La Fleur du Mal" her sword that contains dark supernatural powers. She happened to be one who decided to succumb to its thirst for blood and use it for evil. This landed her in bad blood with Captain America. He was always chasing her to try to catch her before she would whichever victim she was on. He never did. A smirk grew on her face as she thought about it. She was currently sharpening her long blade before she went off to spy on the man to see what he knows about her plans.

As she came up on the apartment of her enemy, she quietly let herself in with the key she took from the landlord, he certainly didn't make it hard to take. He had fallen asleep and left the office open.

She slowly made her way down the hall holding the sword as a precaution if he were to catch her. The door to a bedroom was open and she could hear a soft groan. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked in. She covered her mouth in a moment of horror over the fact that she was witnessing the Star-Spangled Man of America in one of the most compromising of moments. She quickly calmed herself and watched. She couldn't help but shift from one foot to the other, slightly surprised by how much this was getting to her. She watched him as he took out some tube-shaped object. He opened it and held what appeared to be the opening to the tip of his large penis. She bit her lip as he eased it down onto himself, catching herself before she had the chance to audibly gasp. She slid her hand down her front, rubbing herself as she watched him buck into the object and speed up his hand movements. He was breathing heavy and after a couple minutes he found himself orgasming. He pulled out of the flesh light and stroked himself, bursting his white fluid all over his abdomen. He stood up and took the flesh light apart and going to the bathroom with the inner part. She could hear water running as he cleaned the silicone lining before he came back without it. He must have left it there to dry. He was flaccid now, but she could still have some fun, if he allowed her to.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this just interesting? Captain America caught masturbating by Guillotine. Oh, don't worry about me telling anyone, your secret is safe with me, but I'd love to know exactly what the man of America fantasizes about to get off. You see, I tend to think about the one day you might actually catch me. I just imagine you cuffing me to a bed, you take my pants off and slowly enter me before speeding up in your thrusts. Then when your close, I imagine you taking my mask off and finally finding out what I really look like." She told him before biting her lip as she watched him observe her. She set her sword against the wall before she took her cloak off, letting it fall to the floor. She took her leg armor off as well before pulling her tights off. That was, sadly, as much as she was willing to reveal to him.

"Am I turning you on... Captain?" She drawled as she crawled onto the bed, slowly inching towards him. His cock slowly standing to attention. "Do you want me Captain? I'm not going to join in unless you say yes." She added, keeping her hands to herself. When the older man nodded she raised her eyebrows. "You have to say it." She cooed as she held herself next to him.

"Yes... Please..." Steve breathed out. As soon as he spoke the words, she climbed on top of him, kissing at his neck immediately.

"I originally came here to find out how much you knew about me and any future victims, but I have to say, I kind of prefer this." She smirked against his skin as she started to trail kisses down his chest and to the lines that led to his manhood. As she kissed along the lines, he flipped her onto her back and straddled her, to keep her under him.  

"No way, if you've been watching me for that long, I get to go first." He told her, his voice low and seductive. She moaned as his hand slid between her legs and cupped her. "How interesting, you're so wet. Did I do this?" He asked, as if it were his turn to taunt her.  

Y/n gasped as he placed his head between her legs, placing them over his shoulders. He gave her slit a teasing lick up towards her clit, before wrapping his lips around the hardened bundle of nerves. He sucked on it and she moaned out. "You can call me Captain." He told her when he pulled away before attacking the sensitive skin once again.  

"Ah- yes Captain, just like that! I-I need your fingers... Please Captain." She moaned out as her left hand gripped one of her breasts and her right hand tangled itself in his hair.  

His tongue continued to ravish her as he went back and forth between licking, prodding and sucking her clit into his mouth. He slid a finger into her slick opening. Her back arched off the bed as his hands came up to her hips and forced her to stay in place. He added a second of his fairly large fingers, or at least they were larger than her own, and started to quicken his place of thrusting his fingers into her. "I- I'm gonna-" She moaned out, tugging on his hair as her hips tried to buck up to his face as he made her ride out her orgasm. She breathed heavily as her legs shook from the power of the orgasm she had just experienced.  

Steve climbed off the bed and helped her up, off the bed. His member was standing to attention. Y/n slid down to her knees in front of him and licked along the underside of his cock. "You can moan y/n. Don't cum on my mask or suit." She told him before sliding his cock into her mouth. As the tip completely entered her mouth, she sucked a little, eliciting a small moan from the man above her. Her hands went to his hips as she slid her mouth down to take as much of him into her mouth as she could handle. She started to bob her head, one hand stroking what she couldn't fit in her mouth and the other gently massaging his balls. When she started to speed up her pace, he slid his hand into her hair and started to gently take control. Soon he was thrusting into her mouth, moaning her name over and over again. As he got closer and closer to his second release of the night, he started to thrust deeper into her mouth. She let him take control, and as his cock throbbed more and more he bottomed out completely, making her deep throat his whole dick as he released himself down her throat. She was swallowing around his dick, milking him of the somewhat thick substance. When he pulled out of her mouth, she broke the strand of saliva that still connected them.  

Steve sat on his bed, breathing hard as she quickly got herself presentable again.  

"Thanks for the good time, maybe we could do this again sometime." She smirked at him before quickly leaving, as if she hadn't even been there at all

[ooxiebooxie]

“ 'Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems in a place perhaps you've seen in your dreams. For the story you're about to be told began with the holiday worlds of auld. Now you've probably wondered where [ nightmares ] come from. If you haven't I'd say it's time you begun. “

BASIC INFORMATION.

What is your character’s full name?

Tim Page

How is it pronounced?

TIM  PAYJ

Is there a meaning behind it?

Tim is derived from the Greek Τιμοθεος ( Timotheos ) which translates into “ honouring God “. His parents chose the name for their son, naming him after his great grandfather who was known for his compassion heart. Page is also derived from a Greek word παιδιον ( paidion ) with the meaning “ little boy “. The name is an occupational name meaning " servant / page " — and thus we do not need to ask question why Oogie chose to change his name.

Does your character have any nicknames?

Oogie Boogie. Oogie. Mr Oogie Boogie Man. Meanest Guy.

When and where were they born?

Tim Page was born on the nineteenth of april in nineteen-seventytwo in the town of Carthay.

What’s their zodiac sign and what traits do they most relate to?

Aries rules the head and leads with the head, often literally walking head first, leaning forwards for speed and focus. Its representatives are naturally brave and rarely afraid of trial and risk. They possess youthful strength and energy, regardless of their age and quickly perform any given tasks. Aries is one of the most active zodiac signs. It is in their nature to take action, sometimes before they think about it well. Their challenges show when they get impatient, aggressive and vent anger pointing it to other people.

What’s their nationality?

American – but that depends entirely on which paper he chooses to show authority to identify himself. He has several. Sometimes you just need to be a different person, when your name and the stories strung to it travel faster than you.

What’s their occupation?

Being a winning gambler. 

What gender do they identify themselves as?

Male.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

What’s their eye color?

Dark brown, appearing to be black.

Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Neither.

Hair color?

Black, although depending on the light it can appear to have a hint of dark brown in them.

Have they ever dyed their hair or wanted to?

In the young age of seven Tim has been obsessed with the colour green and wanted to dye his hair a bright neon colour ( maybe add some purple streaks for additional fun ) but fortunately, it was one of the things his parents did not allow their son to do. 

Height?

179cm ( back at it again, being European and this time lazy )

Body build?

Surprisingly slim considering his messed up lifestyle. 

Do they have any birthmarks?

No.

Do they have any piercings or tattoos?

It is no secret Oogie is as much a gambler at heart as a person could be, and thus it should not come as a surprise that his obsession has gone under his skin too. He has a tattoo ( that keeps getting added onto ) which proudly display his undying love for games, gambling and most importantly, winning. His tattoos tell a story and if you understand the language, you might just learn what ( or who? ) he has won too.

If not, do they want to get some?

Now let me tell you something about Oogie Boogie: He’ll never stop playing, and as long as there’s the chance to win he will take it, and thus more tattoos are to come.

Do they have a healthy life style?

No. His life is about as healthy as his shack is clean — his nights are too long, gambling always combined with alcohol and cigars, his days survived on coffee and cigarettes, his kitchen is used but only to stock the take-out containers in and literally lives among bugs — but honestly what do you expect? Oogie doesn’t have the time to have a healthy life. He is a busy man.

How easy do they get sick?

Let’s just say Oogie is lucky that he spends most of his time at the casino, because if he was to spend it in his shack between all the filth and his beloved bug collection he sure would get sick a lot more often.

Any marks on their body ( injuries, … )?

If you mess with the wrong people, you are bound to have some nasty scars. Oogie has several faint ones scattered across his knuckles though they are barely visible. The worst ones are those who needed stitches — if he takes off his jacket you can still see the messily stitched ( because there were times he just hadn’t been able to go to the hospital, knowing they would ask tooo man question ) scars on his arms especially, but his back and chest too.

What’s their personal style/how do they like to dress?

Comfortable but fitting clothing. His trusted black leather jacket is something he basically does not leave the house without, and the rest of his clothing is too rather dark in colour ( the only bit of colour he owns is in form of plaids ). Important to notice is that every piece of clothing is ridiculously expensive — that white t-shirt you see him wearing? Yeah, that was about 400 bucks. Now, you might wonder why Oogie of all people would waste so much money on ordinary looking clothing, but what can I say other than that he just really hates loose threads.

What is their favorite and least favorite feature about themselves?

His skills, and though this might not be a physical feature, it’s the one answer you will get from Oogie about his favourite thing about himself: He is proud to call himself a winner, one who does not need to rely on ‘ luck ‘ but can rely entirely on himself. His least favourite is a weakness and thus shall never be revealed — after all, a gambler never lets his pokerface slip.

PERSONALITY.

Positive traits?

Ambitious, Analytical, Attantive, Bold, Brilliant, Cautious, Confident, Determined, Devote, Efficient, Eloquent, Hard-Working, Intelligent, Inventive, Logical, Mature, Observant, Persistent, Proud, Punctual, Reliable, Strategic, Strong, Succesful, Tough

Negative traits?

Angr, Annoyed, Argumentative, Bad, Bossy, Cold-Hearted, Critical, Cruel, Cunning, Dangerous, Dark, Devious, Dishonest, Facetious, Greedy, Harssh, Hot-Tempered, Ignorant, Impatient, Lackadaisical, Lazy, Manipulative, Sadistic, Scheming, Self-Centered, Unforgiving, Violent

What do they consider to be the best and the worst part of their personality?

The best part is hands down his determination. For all the ‘ evil ‘ character traits Oogie’s determination is actually the most dangerous one, because the moment he sets his mind onto something, he doesn’t let go off it until it is his. He strongly believes there’s always a way — it has been proven to him nurmerous time by himself, and if that’s not trustworthy, what is? — to get what he want; you just have to set the stakes straight. His worst trait is the inconsideration, or rather, it has the worst impact on others ( which needless to say, makes Oogie fine with this trait too. Why would he care about others, right? ) but while he thinks everything through on a logical level, the lack of considering he does of the effect on others can get him into trouble. 

Are they more extroverted or introverted?

Extroverted.

Any talents?

Winning, and if you say that it is no talent, ( Oogie would first of all like you to know you are wrong, but fine ) it’s knowing how not to take chances when gambling. He can read other people’s face, can figure out if they are bluffing, can make the maths in his head to know what his, his opponent’s and the cards still remaining in the deck say — and if he can’t, he always knows how to turn the game so he’s the one to win with a little cheat or two. 

What are their fears?

Unravelling — not his clothes, of course, but the web of lies and cheats and crimes he’s built over the years of gambling with the worst of people. They are all secret, and though he is known to be a gambler across town and there are horror stories being shared at night in the darkest of alleys, they are all just that: stories. There’s no proof, his slate is still clean — unless, of course, the carefully crafted web starts to unravel and truth begins to spill.

Do they have any phobias?

No.

What is their soft spot?

Hidden behind a pokerface.

List 3 pet-peeves they can’t stand?

People believing in luck, talkativeness and optimism.

EDUCATION.

How far did they go in school? Are they still studying?

Tim successfully graduated from college with one hell of a good degree, always having given his best at any sort of school. He could’ve easily gone further and he’d already scored a solid and high-paying job, but unfortunately, he won a game in the casino then and everything changed.

Did they like school?

Tim was thrilled about school, glad to have the opportunity to learn new things ( admittedly, some of them were boring, but you have to do what you have to do, right? ) and even on the most annoying days, he had his group of long time friends to make any situation a billion times better.

What type of student are/were they?

In every school there are these type of students who somehow manage to get good grades no matter what, and Tim Page was one of them. One might call it luck ( even Tim did back then ), but the truth is that in his case anyway, Tim was just attentive. He listened in class, worked on the tasks which were given to him and though he did not sit down with a book and learn after school, he was focused enough inside of class to understand and remember what he’d been taught later during an exam. 

What was their favorite subject?

Math. It was the one class which made the most sense to Tim, which made sense everywhere around the world too. For that reason alone it came easy to him, and thank god that it did, because card counting is a lot easier if you know what the fuck you’re doing.

And their least favorite?

English, because he always found writing interpretation was stupid, because how would anyone ever know what the author of some long-outdated literature piece tried to say when they were long dead? It’s not like lying on paper is hard. The only way Tim survived the endless hours he wasted on writing essays was by making his interpretations as ridiculous as one could get. 

What were they/would they have been voted as “ most likely to… ” in the yearbook?

Most likely to suceed.

FAMILY.

Who are your character’s parents?

Belinda and Dunstan Page.

How would your character describe them?

Oogie Boogie would not waste a single breath on them, but they had always been kind and in the time Oogie was still their son, when he was still Tim Page they were the best parents he could’ve ever wished for, supportive and kind, loving him with all of their heart and without any conditions. 

Do they have any siblings?

No.

Are they close with their family?

Tim has always been close to his family, his heart staying close at home wherever he went and if he ever left them for long he made sure give them a call and check up on them. However, time changes everything and when Tim changed into Oogie Boogie so did his relationship with his parents. He didn’t give a shit about them anymore, too distracted by the constant need to win, and when they moved away he barely noticed and did not hear of them again until he found the invitation to their funeral in his letter boy. Needless to say, he did not go. 

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY.

What’s their romantic and sexual orientation?

Bisexual with a preference towards females, and he’s Oogie Boogie, he doesn’t have romantic emotions ( that we know of, anyway ).

Are they seeing anyone right now?

No.

Have they ever been in an relationship?

Yes, there have been several relationships in the course of his life, but none of them were particularly seriouss.

Have they ever been in love?

Yes. He was seventeen when he met her, and it took him not more than a few spoken words until he was head over heels in love with her. There just was something special about her, something that no one had ever had. After going on a couple of dates, their relationship began and their love has been growing ever since — until it ended, of course, like all of his connections did when Tim turned into Oogie.

How easy do they fall for someone?

It’s the toughest task in the world to get through to him and have him even notice you as a potential love interest, therefore not easy at all.

What do they look for in someone?

He doesn’t look for anyone. However, if he did he’d want someone who supports him, who joins his gambling and who he can rely on when they learn what exactly he has been gambling with.

Do they believe in love at first sight? or fate?

Definitely not. Neither exists. You’ve got to take matters into your own hands.

What’s their views on romance? Do they go after it or avoid it?

Oogie doesn’t care. In fact, he’s convinced romance in that sense doesn’t even exist. 

Did they have their first time already? How was it in their point of view?

Yes, and truth be told, it’s been so long Oogie hardly remembers it, but it was with the girl he was in love with... so probably awkward and sweet? who cares?

What is their view on sex?

It's the best part of any relationship he ever had and the only reason why he pities not having a significant other, because it means he can’t just come home to someone and share the joy and enthusiasm that comes with winning with someone... in his bed. 

What are their turn ons and turn offs?

Power is the biggest turn on. One might say winners like the companies of winners, and it could not be truer for Oogie. There’s just something about a person being able to meet you on a similiar level that makes them attractive. On the other side, he hates stuidity and he finds it comes in the most various of traits, making most people nothing but exhausting to him. 

Were they ever cheated on or have they cheated on someone?

He has never been cheated on, but he has definitely cheated. He is Oogie Boogie. The real question is who he hasn’t cheated on.

Do they want to get married in the future?

Hell to the no.

Have kids?

The greatest joy in the world is to have children, and let me tell you a little secret about Oogie: He absolutely does not agree. He has three little minions and they are already enough to handle, plus he can actually hate them and mistreat them without having to feel upset about ruining his own flesh and blood. The real joy in life is winning.

QUIRKS.

Are they right or left handed?

Right Handed.

What’s a word that’s always on their lips?

The name Lock, Shock or Barrel angrily being yelled.

Is there a saying they keep on repeating?

Not a phrase, but he does hum his ‘ Oogie Boogie Song ‘ all the time — that being said, make sure he never sings the lyrics around you for it’s never a good omen if he gets to the line ‘ this may be the last time you hear the oogie boogie song ‘.

Do they curse?

He definitely does. There are times which just need a little bit ( or a lot ) of cursing.

What’s their worst habit?

Spending his money. No matter how often you see him walk out of the casino with a thousand of dollars in his bags, you’ll never see him keep it for longer than a day. Either he pays his debts to the Fates, he spends it on his beloved bugs or he walks right back into the casino to wager it all again.

Do they drink or smoke? How frequently?

He drinks and he smokes cigarettes and cigars at least every week, if not every day.

Are they an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl, because the unfortunate thing about casinos is that they are rarely opened in the normal day to day hours. Oogie wastes his night completely in there, spends his early mornings in a coffee shop of his choice and sleeps the rest of the day away until he can finally go gambling again.

How tidy is their room?

His entire shack is a complete mess and though Oogie recnogises it as one, he does not give a care in the world about it. His belongings are piling all over the floor, his kitchen is filled with the containers of the many take-outs he’s ordered in and is that... a bone? Honestly, at this point you can find almost anything in there.

How long do they usually take getting ready in the morning?

Fifteen minutes tops. His mornings usually include him going into the shower, brushing his teeth and leaving the house a moment later. That being said, his mornings are rarely happening in the morning and more so in the late evenings.

FAVORITES.

What’s their favorite color?

Now, you might think his favourite colour is black because everything he owns and loves seems to be black, but while everything about Tim Page changed when he became Oogie Boogie one thing didn’t: His favourite colour is green, always has and always will be.

Favorite movie?

' Fight Club ‘ because it’s kind of a fucked up movie, isn’t it? and at the same time it is really interesting, allowing a look into the minds of others and how a group ( a colony, one might say ) can work together and create something purely brutal. Oogie always thought in a way they are gambling too.

Music Genre?

Rock’n’Roll.

Food?

Anything that comes per delivery.

Book?

' It ‘ by Stephen King.

Favorite non-alcoholic drink?

Ground black Coffee.

Ice Cream Flavor?

Dark Chocolate.

Indoors or outdoors?

Indoors.