#fuck it’s let’s quit i hate this job and know i can land one end of week easy

[lilgynt]

champion really smacked my shit around today

[seeingivy]

cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

--

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes. 

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage. 

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents. 

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together. 

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met. 

Satoru Gojo. 

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?” 

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats. 

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope. 

“Where did you pick? For us to live?” 

“Cornelia Street.”

--

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it. 

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”  

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before. 

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.” 

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.” 

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.” 

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in. 

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil. 

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it. 

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours. 

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?” 

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.” 

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you. 

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-” 

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.” 

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn. 

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime. 

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you. 

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations. 

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-” 

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-” 

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.” 

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street. 

--

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good. 

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you. 

“Hey.” 

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.” 

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.” 

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen. 

“Did you eat all the food already?” 

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.” 

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-” 

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.” 

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come. 

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms. 

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-” 

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left. 

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering. 

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-” 

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-” 

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice. 

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again. 

“You okay, Bonnie?” 

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re positive?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?” 

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you? 

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-” 

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair. 

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?” 

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-” 

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.” 

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not. 

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again. 

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.” 

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.” 

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions. 

“Fine.” 

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face. 

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again. 

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?” 

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.” 

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?” 

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.” 

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you. 

--

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta. 

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that. 

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki. 

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.” 

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?” 

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.” 

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-” 

“Yuuta, you little piece of-” 

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street. 

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.” 

You smile. 

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.” 

“You were right.” 

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.” 

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“Ah, you know. The usual.” 

“The usual?” 

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you. 

“What?” 

“Guess what time it is.” 

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-” 

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds. 

“Satoru.” 

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-” 

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice. 

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat. 

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.” 

“And?” 

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.” 

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.” 

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.” 

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing. 

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.” 

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.” 

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was. 

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right. 

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him. 

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now. 

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him. 

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you. 

“Thank you, Bonnie.” 

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.” 

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.” 

“That was one time. You could share, you know.” 

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly. 

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky. 

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?” 

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.” 

“Hm.” 

“What?” 

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?” 

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.” 

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you. 

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?” 

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers. 

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.” 

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street. 

“Are you-” 

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.” 

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest. 

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile. 

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him. 

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin. 

“Satoru. This is public indecency.” 

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds. 

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”  

--

“Almonds, Bonnie.” 

“Satoru.” 

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.” 

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee. 

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for. 

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm, Bonnie?” 

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?” 

“Sure.” 

“Mail this for me.” 

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes. 

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to. 

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm?” 

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?” 

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.” 

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder. 

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you. 

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?” 

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” 

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening. 

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” 

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?” 

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-” 

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.” 

“Bonnie, I can explain-” 

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street. 

--

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore. 

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong. 

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once. 

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of. 

She’s going to work, just a different way. 

Yes, I gave her the almond packets. 

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you. 

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you. 

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you. 

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do. 

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs. 

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place. 

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative. 

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter. 

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him. 

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again. 

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace. 

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted. 

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are. 

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you. 

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?” 

“Ran into traffic.” 

“Wish they hit you.” 

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay. 

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?” 

“What?” 

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?” 

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you. 

“Give me an answer.” 

“No, Satoru.” 

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?” 

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond. 

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.” 

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right. 

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.” 

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.” 

“If you let me explain, I would-” 

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.” 

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it. 

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever. 

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yes?” 

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?” 

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you. 

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-” 

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates. 

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.” 

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold. 

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 11

The end is nigh! Everybody takes a giant leap of faith in the mother of all transition eps, and we end on several cliffhangers of how those leaps will land Will Ray finally get his threesome? Will Nick agree to be Boston's boyfriend? Will Mew move in with Top? What is the actual factual deal with Boeing? WILL CHEUM GIVE BOSTON THE APOLOGY HE DESERVES? Last week y'all were split on who you were rooting for, with Boston and Boeing tied for your hearts. Here's the runners and riders this week.

🔺1. Nick (2)

I'm not sure I'm ready to be anyone's boyfriend.

So many boys to choose from, that's my baby. I chose Nick as my fighter from jump and that was so the right decision. Baby boy is beating them off with a stick, and committing to nothing and nobody in the process. He might be in love with Boston, but he's actually thinking about what 'in love' means to him, after the mess his 'love' caused. He likes Dan, but won't lead him on. Helping Boston with Atom let him see a version of his own feelings and actions that have made him a bit contemplative it feels like, and I'm curious to see what decisions he actually makes in the finale.

🔺2. Boston (3)

But you might be my exception.

Speaking of contemplation, Boston is definitely calibrating and rethinking some of his basic assumptions about life and people. Atom is an avatar of how and why Boston probably landed on his 'I HATE DRAMA' train, while Nick is an avatar of 'oh, I might have conflated people's feelings with 'drama' when they aren't quite the same thing'. He wants to maybe try monogamy, and you know what, that's his right, and he feels safe to try it with Nick. I have a lot of thoughts about how much Boston must trust Nick to take that leap, even on a short-term/trial basis, and I love the nuance in how this has been written.

🔺3. Yo (and Plug) (10)

I should protect my heart first, shouldn't I?

MOM AND COOL STEPDAD ARE BACK TOGETHER! This has been a very tight runner, but I love it. I love that Plug was able to take a deep breath and swallow his hurt over Yo wanting to protect herself. I love that Yo was able to step outside of herself and take a leap of faith that Plug does love her. Using Yo and Plug as a thematic reinforcer has been effective for me, and I hope we get to see them one last time in the finale.

🔺4. Top (8)

I'm gonna make you love me even more.

Force has been doing a thankless job incredibly well playing Top. When I tell y'all I know Tops, big dick swinging Big Men On Campus, Roc Nation Brunch types, successful on the outside but a total mess within, looking for a saviour, convinced that this One Thing or One Person, if they could just get them, it would mean that they're winners and not the losers they have nightmares about being...and Force is playing that so well. The other thing about these types is that the hole inside they're trying to fill is always an empty space, no matter who or what they try to stuff in there. There will always be a next thing that could save them. I've legit never seen this type portrayed this well on screen, and I look forward to seeing where he lands because he could literally go either way.

🔹5. Sand (5)

Well, someone who's completely my type dumped me for someone else.

YES SAND SPEND THAT MAN'S MONEY THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU ALL ALONG! If he's going to call you a whore whenever he gets mad at you, and you're gonna accept that and forgive him every time, at least reap some goddamn benefits. On the other side of things, we see that Sand's simpness is not confined to Ray; this is just what he's like when he falls for somebody. Boeing reappearing makes that clear. That man cheated and dumped him and he still can't send him packing when he turns up again. 'We can be friends' NO YOU FUCKING CAN'T GUY, THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS.

🔹6. Mew (6)

You asked for a chance and I gave it to you.

As I said earlier this week, there's nothing wrong with Mew that couldn't be solved by giving him a pair of stilettos and a flogger, and I stand by that. Mew is struggling so hard with the feeling that he has somehow lost, and it's making him lowkey crazy. Top abasing himself and Mew getting to punish him would go a long way to making these two work, if that's what they want. Sometimes kink is 100% the answer to a complicated relationship, and these two are COMPLICATED. So much ego and image is wrapped up in these two's expectations of each other, they are never actually vulnerable, even when performing vulnerability. But one thing kink absolutely requires is vulnerability. I'm voting for Mew to realise his dom desires before the end.

🔹7. Ray (7)

If you say so, then I won't be jealous.

Ray makes a valiant attempt at proper boyfriendism this ep, and it's actually pretty effective...right up until he's faced with the prospect that Sand's squishy centre is more about who Sand is than it is about Ray being extra special somehow. Sand's mom told him: this is how he is with people he cares about. So when somebody Sand clearly cares/cared about, Boeing, shows up, Ray gets a front row seat and he doesn't like the view. How he handles what happens next is gonna tell us whether or not Ray has learned a goddamn thing.

🔻8. Boeing (1)

I just want to be with someone tonight.

There's a definite pattern to the rankings at this point, in that a character hitting the #1 is doomed to take a nosedive in the next ep, and Boeing is no exception. His game remains unclear at this point, but he does give the sense of having had plan A fail and moving on to plan B, taking a not-unrealistic leap of faith that Sand will allow him back into his life. This show has been pretty good about writing real people not cartoon villains, so I'm pretty sure Boeing's got his own human story animating his actions, and I'm curious to find out what it is.

🔺9. Atom (10)

He didn't do anything to me.

Well he apologised and told the truth in the end, even if he had to be threatened to do it, that counts for something...

🔻10. Cheum (9)

What did he do to you this time?

...but if she doesn't apologise for the fucked up things she said to Boston I'm gonna lose it I swear.

[kianf1sh]

had the end(?) of a series of dreams today, or at least the main storyline

For context, me(bird) and my two bird friends had been on the run for quite some time from this trusted military general with a temper who hates us and keeps a gun on him at all times.

So we three, running away from him, arrive at what looks a lot like an oil plant in the middle of the ocean, with a cool looking building on it, witch turned out to be a damn alien spaceship, with the aliens on it.

And it takes flight while we're on it.

This is bad says the lore

My two buddies are flung violently into separate rooms of the ship and im in the control room. Where they (my buddies) end up short circuiting the two front thrusters using explosives (that didn't explode, shush dream logic) then the aliens land back on the platform and call the united states government to complain that everything bad that's ever happened to them is because of landing here

witch lo and behold, who shows up? The Guy (name pending) who is absolutely furious we *ruined* such a glorious port/platform/whatever and says, while we're all watching, "i know one place those damn birds cant reach! Secret area island, of course!"

That for some reason, i go to! (the dream forgot all about my buddies at this point sadly)

and somehow i get there before him!

Ending up at Secret Area Island, it looks a lot like the backyard of my grandparents' house if it was better kept up and just in general bigger, ain't that crazy

I go to one of the staff, and she just lets me vibe because apparently this is an animal conservation place thing, and its pretty cool actually!

Then he shows up. Being friendly and walking around with his military gear and intern(?), untill he spots me, and goes into a furious rage firing guns of several kinds (including confetti poppers?) several times, yet i dodge them all. The staff girl person sees this, and tries to stop him.

to witch they eventually get into a heated argument about him saying i ruin everything and cant let him have peace, to where she points out that this is the only encounter i sought him out. And also im a fucking bird, you're firing every gun in the book at a b i r d .

to where he eventually gets demoted from "important military fucker" to just some guy, who works there, and his guns taken away from him, as i can see on the job ui, where i also see my shift is in 10 minutes, theyre offering me a job!

that i take, and now im employed for two hours a day vibin at Secret Area Island's animal conservation place.

end of drehm

[pardonmydelays]

haiku about the end of the year

it’s this time of the year

when you say goodbye

to moments of doubt and anger and tears

don’t let fuckers win

screw them

let’s focus on goodness and light

they will never know these feelings

goodbye bad bad people

✨✨✨✨

once upon a time, in a faraway land in a small and shitty mall there was this "luxury" store and guess what was it called? ****Trend

there was a girl, poppy was her name she used to work in this place and oh, it was once her safe space but not anymore, what a shame

the job was shitty, that's not a lie her workmates were amazing though they made her laugh, laughed at her jokes (she even befriended the new guy)

and then one day no fun, no more she got the worst news ever "we are transferring you", the bad bitch witch tells her "to a different mall, a different store"

the store was far away from poppy's and her new team couldn't accept her there was one guy who fucking hated her she couldn't take it, she wrote her notice

i guess you can say she wrote her way out but she still had to stay for quite some time tried to be nice to them, was that a crime? "i will survive this, without a doubt"

crying sessions in the bathroom that was poppy's way to cope but then one day she just said "nope" new idea, sick leave, BOOM!

who's laughing now? i guess not them she's gonna have long christmas break she knows for sure that wasn't a mistake that's why now she is writing this poem

she also got a new job offer her teerico merch is on the way good things are coming, also, hey! she's taking the job, it starts next year!

she saw in the heights live in koszalin she met jakub gierszał with her bestie, bel she wrote her way out of this hell (maybe one day she will also meet lin?)

here's to new year, here's to the new chapter here's to uk trip and the eras tour in poland! here's to my friends, my moots from foreign land may poppy's life be full of laughter!

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

the giggle - thoughts and reactions (part 1/2)

fourteen breaking up from the dance- w/ the toymaker-> "do you see why i broke with him?"

kate going to hug fourteen feels very appropriate sdlkfj kate is like 14 aka barerly holding it together lol distincly not Having Had A Good time for a while. Esp avoiding any serpents...she’s just 1 scandal away from a malcolm tucker "this job has fucked me in every hole of my fucking body" meltdown")

"no change then, there" rtd making all his rtd1 era political subtext into text lol

oh…. so kate is just 1 mind-funker away from becoming an immigrant-hating, disabled-hater, bravermanish AnCapp ........................ interesting to know (put a pin on that tbh. I feel we may finally get the antagonist!kate of our dreams (my dreams) in this era)

shirley being so "is it offensive? Well, borderline..." and "absolutely no need" and "don't make me the problem" feels kinda like... "oh we can have a have a badass disabled character but she can't actually impose herself or be an inconvinience in any way" ://

like damn in that exchange with kate, just have a "we'll talk about it later" line. From a non-political / strictly narrative-pov, that would give us a bit of a flavor for their relationship as well.

"can't you give everyone a mask?" "imagine trying that" the thing is. russel.......... they did very much give everyone a mask, DSFKLJ like *some* made a big noise and sure it's alarming for "what that means" but like... most ppl did in fact mask up sldfkj that was a very significant thing that happened, in fact.........)

the old archengel network~~

CANON WEST END MELANIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

rtd taking "but no one watches television anymore!" people and giving them the middle finger <3 iconic

nah we were already mad dr. you're not that important

"that's righteusness! that's human!" but let us seeeee the effect. same problem as the first special. we're too much in the doctor's pov. let me see the *outside world* pov. rtd1 used to be so good with this :/

"you have my permission" autocracy? in MY dr. who? is more likely than u think

(what separates 14 from 10 is that like.... 11-12-13... they could all be quite ruthless, but those post-10 doctors didnt waste time with bs. they just Get On with the autocracy w/ no pretenses lol) (it's growth (tm) but at the same time........... oh, yeah, we're on a waters of marsy / ghost light-y path lol)

"hello" "hi" T.T so cute!!! i love them

"good old sabolom glitz" what an oxymoron lol

"I've got nothing. My family are all gone" oof. timeless child parallelsssss

also melanie if u want a family u just need to adopt a bunch of orphaned, supernaturally-enhanced teenagers. it worked for SJ!!!

kate WILL hire all your ex-girlfriends doctor and there's nothing u can do to stop her

"all this time and you didn't mentioned her" i mean tbf. i love melanie but .not mentioning sj *is* more alarming than not mentioning melanie sdlkfjsdklfjsd

"you're wearing yourself out" YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING

companions marathoning doctor who thru the doctor's head is always so clara coded

we can't have 10.000 …….. but we can have this “the first man picked up a rock” monologue.

(tbh actually......... i always thought it was very fitting for The Story of dr. who that the very first serial and is a historical about "the day friendship was invented" , so them invoking that rn feels very fitting. The toymaker, as a the Doctor’s Fun House Mirror Of The Day reframes that day (that story) as the day *murder* was invented. )

thie flashbacks make the toymaker serial look so much better than it is lol the land of stories serial >>> toymaker serial

"you never tell me to do that" he does actually jjkjkkklk all the time.......

"that's what unravels me, all the laws I cling to, gone" for The Theme…. → overcoming trauma is about accepting the irationality and injustice of it happening. It’s necessitates accepting that life can be fundamentally Unbalanced and not Karmic.

this ep is fun but is like.... idk some of 14's speeches here. Him being so clear-headed… it feels bit gratuitous? Unearned? this "im always so certain" as well... which *shouldnt feel like that* since we've had 13 seasons (40+ seasons*) of development before this. but idk it still feels like... too much too sudden?

"take away the toys... what am i? what am i now?" the kids aren't all right.mp3

maybe i'll save u!!! aaaaa TOT

(for all the talk about "i say things like that now" the doctor doesn't actually says she loves donna *to* her face here...)

“games don’t have a memory, every game starts from scratch” tbh that’s what watching the show is like sometimes lol even for us ~reconcile everything~folks… at some point u do gotta take each week as its own thing.

the giggle in my head………… // the drumming…?

lol the "i thought i was clever" puppetry imaginery and the twisting of the ten-era"help me" motif.. c'mon toymaker is just ur avarage fan fiction writer. u are valid my dude!! join AO3!!!

[darwinquark]

ok so I just re-read chapter 11 (INCREDIBLE and that sex scene you added at the end??? I died 🔥🔥🔥🔥 they are so hot and in lava and it made the ending even more devastating) and I know we still have one more to go before the sequel but I AM FERAL FOR THE SEQUEL. do you have any of it written you'd be willing to share as a preview or sneak peak? I just NEED NYC JERONICA 😫

!!!! goooorrrll you're an absolute trooper for re-reading that angst monster and lmao I'm so glad you liked the new bit 😂 Just felt like I need to twist the knife a little more, you know?

I'M ALSO PUMPED FOR THE SEQUEL largely because I am so tired of writing teen angst lmao. I actually do have a little bit of chapter one written but it's like super bare-boned and kind of spoilery, so probs not worth your time, buuuuut I do have this one scene I wrote like a year ago that's got a little more to dig into. I'm honestly not even sure I'm going to use it anymore since I've restructured this particular arc in my head a little, but I think you can get a decent sense for where they're at in the sequel. Jughead's pretty shitfaced in this scene after drinks/schmoozing with a potential publisher and Veronica's trying to get him into his apartment. For context, he's been icing her out pretty much the whole night and not really letting her do her job, so she's pretty pissed, and now he's just overly loose-lipped and instigating.

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

“You know, I dreamed about you.”

A cold swell of warning spread over her shoulders. She blinked, refocusing on trying to find the right key to his door. “Oh, yeah?”

“Just a few times," he ventured whimsically from behind her. "Especially about your… earlobe.”

“My earlobe.”

“Yep.”

“Just the one?”

“Mm, no. They were…” he struggled to find the word in his shitfaced haze, “alternating. Alternating earlobes.”

“I see.”

“You have very dreamable earlobes. Very difficult to… undream.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“I think I might’ve loved you.”

Her pulse stuttered abruptly.

She turned to look at him after a second, keys abandoned in the lock.

“Not like,” he pulled a sour face, all drunken exaggeration, “not like big, saccharine ‘you complete me’ love—just for a second. Just like a bite. Like a quick,” he gave a brisk, playful snap of his teeth, “and then fuck, ow, love, and then it went away. Maybe.”

She just stared at him for a beat, entirely blindsided. Rattled by the magnitude of the line he'd just crossed. Her hands felt numb. “You didn’t love me, Jughead.”

“Mm, I think I did,” he mumbled, slowly easing closer, palms landing on either side of her against the door. “I really think I did.” Her pulse shot up as his nose tipped forward to glide along the line of hers, a paralyzing invasion. “You didn’t? Not even for a second, just that little lick of pain,” he coaxed his head aside to ghost his lips down the curve of her throat, “just a quick, stupid little—” his teeth caught her neck in a swift nip and she inhaled sharply, hand snapping up to push him back.

For a second she just held him there, heart stumbling wildly in her chest.

Inches away.

Fingers knotted around his collar.

His eyes had an unsettling glint to them, like he couldn’t decide if he hated her or not. Like he was caught between wanting to grip her by the thighs or grip her by the throat, but neither one would quite be enough.

“Nah,” he finally murmured after a beat, dark gaze loosening as it flitted down her face. “You wouldn’t have left if you did. You couldn’t have.” His mouth took on a corrosive little curl as his gaze slid back up to hers. “I couldn’t have.”

She fought down the raw feeling swelling in her chest, forcing her expression into something neutral. Composed. He was drunk and reckless and raring to get under her skin. This was all for a reaction. “And now you’re taking boozy meetings with some of the most exclusive publishing houses in New York, so,” she tipped her chin up a fraction, a cold flare of hauteur, “I guess it’s a good thing I could.”

His mouth drifted into a mordant smile. “Hell of a spin, Lodge.”

“It’s Luna now,” came the firm reply.

He eyed her for a long beat, smile slowly slipping into something darker. Derisive. Lit with the glinting certitude of a liar spotting a liar. “No, it’s not.”

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

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Find the Word Game XV

(Double Feature)

tagged by: @oh-no-another-idea & @zmwrites!! my words: candle, wax, sunlight, dandelion, butter, play, step, miss, scramble tagging: @drippingmoon, @druidx, @drabbleitout, @sleepy-night-child, @ashen-crest, and lady luck though she and I are not on speaking terms at the moment your words: morning, evening, night, day, dark, moon

candle (Aurora)—

Thrive pressed his fingers against his water and the surface began to frost over, ice crystals spider-webbing out from the points where his skin met the glass. He then took a fork and began to break the thin layer of ice at the top. "I am quite cognizant to your love of space…as it's one of your many idiosyncrasies with which I am utterly enraptured."

"As evidenced by this," Warren added, gesturing toward the nebula. "You really didn't have to go through so much trouble for me, though."

"Why not? It's our anniversary."

There was a pause. "What?" Warren blinked. "Really? You've kept track of the exact day we got married ———?"

Shaking his head, Thrive lifted his water to his lips. "The day we met."

Warren inhaled sharply, veins filling with heat and veneration. Thrive's brilliant eyes sparkled verdant under the light of the candle, and Warren wanted little else but to be inside his mind at that moment. "October fifteenth."

"Correct." Thrive took another sip of water and glanced at the patrons inside the restaurant, on the other side of the tinted glass wall. "The night I landed in Ruria Lake."

wax (Warpath)—

"When was the last time you went to Leviathan?"

Warren sighed, taking the mug of coffee from Thoeala as she joined him at the edge of the cliff the next morning. "It doesn't feel like that long ago. Let me tell you…I hate going there alone. It's like a fucking prison fortress."

She regarded him, hands at her hips, obsidian ponytail waving in the breeze. "You've been doing a good job taking over for Daddy, though."

Warren swallowed a sip of the caffeinated beverage and gazed out at the ocean again. "Yeah…I'm suffocating, actually. I don't know how he does it. And of course he's gone gallivanting across the galaxy right as another crisis hits. I've handled them before, but this one feels different." He looked at Thoeala. "...[Sinkship] didn't deserve this."

She waxed sympathetic. "No, she didn't. She started a lot of conflict that made life a living hell for all of us, but she didn't deserve this."

sunlight (Rebirth)—

Warren sighed. "Well, Mr. Sympa—"

"Eugh, nope. Guetry. Mr. Sympa's a lanky French man currently on business somewhere around Mars, probably cursing me out under his breath because I haven't called him in a couple weeks and it's almost his birthday."

"Right…I wanted to talk to you about helping to bring this all to a permanent end."

Guetry did not resume his seat but instead leaned his hands on the table, imparting Warren with a long look of abject offense that displaced the default mischief. "Okay, look…people were born, lived their lives, and died of old age during these wars. Whole planets ravaged with battlefields, mass graves floating for eternity in the dead of space, soldiers of all species getting killed every damn day to these wars. Families torn apart, hope completely dashed along every waking hour…what kinda ignorant, stone-cold arrogance do you have to possess to think you alone can be the metaphorical sunlight breaking through this raincloud shit-show, brother?"

"Not alone, no. I have an obhelian."

A look of recognition crossed Guetry's face and he narrowed his eyes again. "The obhelian?"

"Yep."

dandelion flower (Meridian)—

Atoa and the guards, dwindling down in number, led them to the kitchens, the gym, the training room, and finally to the simulated courtyard where a surprisingly luscious garden grew under artificial weather lamps. Vegetables, fruits, flowers of all kinds beautified the space and Thrive looked enchanted, which surprised Warren.

"I smell at least four flowers from Tournaltis," Thrive said, walking past a bench to survey the vegetable area. "And...three from C'o."

"What happened to a good rose, huh?" Warren asked, leaning into a marble pillar.

Thrive came to a sudden halt, reaching over to pull a single orange rose into view past a bush. He looked at Warren.

"Damn," Warren said, smiling. "That was kinda hot, I won't lie."

"You never do," Thrive said, letting the rose move back into place. "Not about that, anyway."

butter (Aurora)—

My Bear—

Warren already had to pause to give himself time to recover. He'd forgotten that his mother used to call him that, particularly closer to the time she passed, and he could almost hear her beckoning him to the couch to watch her weave baskets for their neighbors. Her scent, honey and whipped butter from her daily breakfast, wafting in front of his nose from olfactory recall alone. He'd play with her hair, braided down to her waist, unbraiding and teaching himself to re-braid it by following the natural waves. Her expressive brown eyes, eyes he wished he'd inherited growing up. He envied the way the light would turn them gold.

Taking a deep breath and sitting down on his bed, Warren continued reading his mother's shaky handwriting through blurred vision.

My Bear,

I trust you have finally decided it's time to read this. That means you need strength more than you ever have before, and I am about to provide it to you.

play (Meridian)—

"I'm surprised y'all don't have bodyguards or something stationed here," Mercury said at one point as they congregated in the sitting room Thrive had installed to entertain diplomatic guests.

Thrive stiffened at that. "It's a matter of time. Once our palace has been built, they'll likely assign a permanent security detail to us."

Sig, Guetry, and Mercury went quiet.

"Palace?" Guetry said. "You guys are getting a palace? Where?"

Warren and Thrive exchanged a glance. "We can't tell you," Warren said. "We can't tell anyone. It's supposed to be the most well-hidden location in the two galaxies. I don't even think we're allowed to know once we move in."

"Hey, we found ——— eventually," Guetry said from one of the sofas. "Not to spook you guys but anything can be found with enough time."

Thrive nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and watching Thoeala play with Mercury on the other side of the room. "That is true...however, the tactics we used to find the Blue Palace will be taken into account when constructing Leviathan. It will be impossible to track." He lifted his gaze to Warren. "For our safety."

step (Eternal)—

Minutes later the doors to the gate opened and a couple of heavily-armed guards marched through, escorting a mechanized wheelchair in which sat Guetry, chained at the wrists and completely zoned out. He still looked impeccably groomed but not in the usual Guetry way, wearing a normal overpowering t-shirt and skinny jeans. His face was a bit puffy as he'd gained a bit of weight, and dark circles encompassed his makeup-less, somewhat dulled eyes. Even though in its normal state the giant tattoo crawling up his right arm to his throat was dormant, now it seemed even more as if something had washed part of it away.

"Guetry," Warren said abruptly.

His head swiveled up and around to him as they all stopped for the guards to talk with DeCosta. He narrowed his eyes at him and Thrive, almost placing them, but not quite. "Too fancy for paparazzi and t-too foreign for my family…"

Thrive stepped forward and swiped a gentle hand over Guetry's hair, resting it on his forehead, holding out the other hand to placate the guards who moved to jump into action. "Settle…" he murmured to both parties.

miss (Meridian)—

The image shifted again, this time portraying Thrive hidden in shadow, a green glow taking up much of the shot and highlighting the lines of his face.

"Not too long after I'd awakened," Scot said. "At NodeSource headquarters."

Once more the image changed, and Warren's breath left him in a rush.

Efthim, during the rescue of the qrihk. Warren's face in profile, in the middle of speaking to someone, and Thrive standing at his shoulder, watching him. It had been a blink-and-miss-it moment of levity among their evacuation team. While he remembered the instant of cracking a joke to make the others laugh as their assignment had weighed down on everyone, he had no idea Thrive was watching him with such...softness.

He was smiling. Subtle, but definite. His eyes were focused not on his surroundings, not on potential escape or incoming harm, but on Warren. And there didn't appear to be anything strong enough to break that focus in that long-gone yet immortalized snap of time.

"Send me that one," he whispered.

Scot patted his knee under the table. "Already done."

scramble (Aurora)—

Dazia burst onto the bridge and immediately swore. "Thank fucking god. Okay, let's get the hell out of here."

Warren scrambled to the viewscreen as everyone else began to pour into the room, relieved at him and Guetry being in one piece. "What happened?!"

"We don't know!" Emnophene exclaimed. "You were there one minute, then a huge sinkhole opened up and we thought you and Guetry had died!"

Mercury surged forward and gathered Guetry in a desperate, tight embrace, planting a solid, lengthy kiss to his mouth that surprised even Warren, who'd accidentally turned at that exact moment. Guetry's wide eyes spoke volumes.

"I was leavin' you behind," Mercury breathed through clenched teeth, voice quaking as he gripped Guetry's stunned face in his hands and pressed several more kisses to him. "I had to leave you behind, you stupid man…"

Sig's voice came in through the comm. "Are we still detonating or not?"

Warren snapped out of his thoughts. "Yes. Yes! ——— can handle it—we need to get out of here, 'cause we sure as shit can't!"

[loominggaia]

Lets say for some reason the FGG can't be mercenaries anymore so what do they do?

We'll just say the crew peacefully disbanded on friendly terms...

Evan: In "Pig Bait", Evan says he has a deep respect for medical professionals and if he were more educated, he would have become a doctor himself. But he knows he doesn't have the brains for it, and he still craves adventure, so I could see him being a bodyguard for an Athenaeum field researcher instead. (Maybe Sage?) He'd still get to travel, put his muscle to good use, and quench his thirst for knowledge along the way.

Lukas: Lukas has mentioned in several stories that he's been sick of mercenary work for a long time, and the only reason he's still in it is to protect Evan. He's tried to convince Evan to quit the business and get a "normal job" many times to no avail. If Evan quit, Lukas would probably put his art degree to good use and paint professionally. His relation to King Jelani would give him enough clout to score big commissions. I could see him painting things like city murals and royal portraits.

Glenvar: Poor Glenvar would be lost without his crew. The mercenary lifestyle is such a perfect fit for him, I don't think he'd do very well anywhere else. He'd probably turn to his religion for answers and become an off-grid recluse, living purely off the land.

Alaine: She'd fall back on her old entertainment career. That includes singing and playing instruments, yes, but she knows the real money is in stripping and prostitution. As much as she hated that aspect, I think the pay would tempt her back into it.

Jeimos: Jeimos has so many degrees and certifications, it wouldn't be hard for them to score a high-paying engineering job somewhere. The main problem is their crippling social anxiety, which is why they were a mercenary in the first place. It's not a glamorous job, but there is so much flexibility, it can accommodate their quirks in ways that traditional jobs usually can't. Realistically, I think they would end up homeless again, selling scrap metal and not realizing their true potential. The support of their crew does a lot for them, and without that they'd just kind of sink.

Isaac: He'd try to become a priest for the Order of Love and Light, if only to get closer to Karenza, who he suspects might be his mother. But the High Priestesses would be onto him immediately and reject him. So failing that, I could see him just turning feral and living with wolves or something. Fuck a job.

Linde: Linde would throw herself completely into her dressmaking, with mixed success. She doesn't handle failure or criticism well, so I think she'd be stressed out and overwhelmed constantly. Dressmaking was always a hobby for her, but turning it into a full-time job would suck all the fun out of it.

Balthazaar: His father was a barber, so Balthazaar might try to follow in his footsteps. He lacks the creative vision and the finesse his father had though, and his business would quickly fail. Balthazaar isn't a very motivated guy. I imagine he'd just start drinking heavily after that and become a bum, believing he isn't destined for anything better.

Skel: No one wants to hire Skel because he's an arrogant dick. He was raised among royalty and demands to be treated like nothing less than a king, and that attitude doesn't really fly anywhere. He ends up homeless and probably addicted to drugs to cope with his neurosis.

Javaan: Javaan could just get a normal labor job somewhere...but he knows damn well there is a lot more money to be made by sliding back into scams and thievery. Long story short, he ends up in prison, breaking rocks for a living.

Elska: Immediately joins the Folkvar military. Uses it as an opportunity to sharpen her combat skills and take revenge on Evangeline Kingdom all at once.

Mr. Ocean: Tries to become a full-time magic teacher, but forgets to show up to his own lectures half the time. Eventually ends up as a busking beggar, playing his sitar for change.

Zeffer: Goes back to being a vampire slayer. Given enough time and trauma, I think he would eventually succumb to his disease and start his own clan, becoming just as ruthless as the very creatures he used to slay. He has eliminated the competition around him, and now his clan can take over the whole region unopposed.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[drakenology]

the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass. 

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where. 

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle. 

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze. 

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone. 

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card. 

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background. 

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife. 

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?” 

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task. 

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy. 

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started. 

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.  

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs. 

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip. 

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” 

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg. 

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you. 

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl. 

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms. 

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot. 

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled. 

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to. 

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye. 

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks. 

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms. 

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock. 

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza? 

you were both fucking insane. 

[6okuto]

Nia i’m having rime braunrot and i NEED enemies to lovers with him PLEASE 😩

help me

tw: blood + cuts/injuries (3rd scene)

note: i see we are all unwell. i hope this is . ok. i cut off the fifth section at a place that . hm. i think it's quite funny really

i.

"you shouldn't piss me off, angel."

"well can you just fuck off already, rudolph?"

rime never liked you. he hated the way you've made yourself out to be better than him. he hates the way you smile and offer help to everyone, the way you run to their aid with little thought to your own safety. rime looked at you and saw somebody, somebody that died a long time ago that he never liked to remember.

"i'll fuck off when you get it through your thick skull what you took from me," he growls. he stabs his spear into the ground before staring daggers through you, "you, of all people, took my job, my relic, my place with felix. and you're going to try to get moral high ground? are you fucking kidding me?"

"so what? it's my fault you decided to be a piece of shit to everyone who cares—sorry, cared about you? get over yourself, rime."

he flinches at the change of tense but it only spurs his anger, "you don't know what you're fucking talking about."

"i know when someone's projecting insecurities and putting up walls," you say while moving closer. "when someone's using anger because they have the emotional maturity of a dingbat."

you know rime's glare would have sent anybody else running. you knew what he could and would do in a heartbeat given the chance. but it's too late, really. you're close enough now that you jab a finger at his chest before hissing, "you're a walking therapy case, bambi. and i'm not gonna be your fucking therapist."

"rime!" felix's voice echoes from somewhere nearby. rime's gaze flickers up then back to you—there's still that annoying defiance in your eyes. no one else would still be standing against him, but he guesses that's your charm, isn't it?

rime isn't there by the time the others find you, but you know you managed to make him freeze before disappearing. "you need to figure out what you want, rime. before you end up hurting them and yourself."

—

ii.

"stella!"

your voice rings out in the garden while you jog around, eyes darting from side to side for a sign of her, rime following a few feet behind you.

"haven't we done this before?" his face is deadpan when you send a glare over your shoulder.

"come on, asshole. before she gets away again."

"sweetheart, she's right there," he nods to your left.

you blink before turning around to see stella looking up at you from the grass. "stella."

she lets out a noise as she walks toward the both of you, close enough that you can pick her up. rime watches you coo and pet her while ignoring him completely. he rolls his eyes at the scene and turns to walk away before you speak.

"...thank you." he freezes before looking back at you and raising a brow.

"i know you're trying and..." you trail off, trying to find the right words to say without it sounding like pity. "it's hard. choosing to try, i mean. so thank you."

so, so kind. just like always. there's a weird feeling in rime's chest, he can't tell of it's heavy or light.

"if you want to thank me"—he walks up and flicks your forehead, almost smiling at the grimace on your face—"stop losing your cat."

—

iii.

"can you stop squirming?"

"it hurts."

rime pulls away enough to stare you down, the deep cuts on your cheek and arm almost enough to make him frown. "get over it, angel. it'll get worse if i don't fix this right now."

you both sit in a tense silence for the most part. you try your best not to make eye contact, only tilting your head toward him when he told you to. rime moves quickly, as if he had done this hundreds of times before. "look up."

your eyes shoot up and meet his by accident. you tilt your face to the side and your gaze lands on a tree nearby instead. taking a breath, you wait for the stinging sensation on your face, but he doesn't do anything. when you look towards him, all rime does is stare with a frown on his face. you frown back, "what?"

he snaps out of whatever he was in, frown only deepening, "you're an idiot."

"hey—ow, rime—" you flinch when he suddenly gets back to work on the cut. you purse your lips at his attitude, "i was just trying to help you."

he almost rolls his eyes before remembering what you did. rime thinks about being pushed out of the way, the scream he heard from the attack meant for him. he doesn't think he'll ever forget the way you clutched yourself on the ground, or the way he sliced the enemy down faster than he thought he could. he wonders if you heard him say "go to hell" before finishing the job.

clenching his jaw, he dabs the cloth on your face and chides, "don't try to help me if it means you get killed."

you scoff in disbelief, "so i should let you die?"

"why would you care?"

his question makes you still. you don't really remember moving him out of the way, just the feeling that it was what you should do. looking down, the covered gash on your arm might say otherwise. you don't think it'll please him to hear but you respond honestly, "i don't know. i just...do. is that so bad?"

rime looks at you. it's the first time you've held eye contact with something less than contempt or annoyance, and you could swear his gaze softened ever so slightly. but he drops his hands from your face and steels himself again, "go find your actual friends, sweetheart."

—

iv.

"what's he doing here again?" the tension in the room is almost suffocating at this point. you've never seen the group this...bad.

"he's here to help, sage."

"like we need this asshole."

rime is uncharacteristically silent, choosing to lean against the bookshelf rather than sitting down with you at the table. your eyes can't help but flicker towards felix who looks like he'd rather be speaking with his father than be here. anisa doesn't seem to be boding well either, but at the head of the table she clears her throat, "maybe we should take a break for now."

nobody objects and you let out a breath to try to relax. sage, on the other hand, stands up and leaves the room.

everyone's gaze follows him until rime drawls, "great first meeting," getting up before anyone can stop him either. though he doubts someone would have tried in the first place.

the three of you left in the room are left to sit in silence. guilt gnaws at you the same time that frustration builds. "i'll go talk to him."

you're not sure who you're talking about until you're outside.

"hey."

"i told you this was a bad idea," rime says without turning around, spinning the dagger in his hand half mindedly.

"they just...need time."

"like five years-ish?"

"rime—"

"yeah, yeah. that's not fair. i know." he flicks his dagger once more before putting it away, choosing to stare off at the treeline instead.

you're not sure what comes over you. maybe it was because you had never seen him so quiet, or because you could only do so much. but you turn rime towards you and ignore the surprise on his face while you pull him into a hug.

not deterred when he freezes, you tighten your hold before speaking, "i'm sorry."

it feels foreign on your tongue, despite the countless apologies you had offered to others before. rime takes his time to reply but you can hear the acceptance in his voice, "it isn't your fault."

"i'd argue differently but either way, i'm sorry. really, rime."

you continue to stand there, unwilling to let go even when the only response you get is silence. you're not sure who needs this more anymore. it's an odd but welcomed feeling when rime loosely wraps his arms around you, pulling you further into his chest.

—

v.

"seriously, can you stop moving for once?"

someone had to make sure rime "didn't get into trouble" and you were the only one who volunteered with something vaguely like enthusiasm. part of you wonders if he would have been better off having a staring contest with sage than here, sharing a bed while you shuffled around trying to ignore the presence beside you.

"no, i can't."

"don't make me shut you up, doll."

"okay," you taunt. "make me."

rime's remark dies on his tongue as his head whips around and he stares at you. your mouth forms a line as you stare back. he squints and moves closer, only a little, but enough to quicken your heart rate. "and how should i do that?"

"...i don't know. your idea, your choice."

your heart begins to pound when rime sits up, his gaze never leaving yours. the sensation in your chest only grows as he moves to hover above you, slowly enough you could have moved if you wanted to, his arms caging you beneath him. "my choice, hm?"

you nod and rime pushes further, bringing his face nearer yours, "are you sure?"

he's close enough at this point that you can feel his breath on your skin. he tilts his head, his voice tickling your ear when he whispers, "i won't do anything you don't want me to."

"so tell me, sweetheart"—rime pulls away far enough to look at you, his gaze slowly travelling from your lips to your eyes—"what do you want me to do?"

—

vi.

"you need to go to bed, angel," rime says before kissing your head. he ignores your whines and groaning while he pushes your work away and pulls you up into him.

"i need to figure this out before i see felix tomorrow, though."

"tell me that later when you aren't letting me pull you to the bathroom," rime hums, ignoring the pout on your face as you slide your feet across the floor.

faintly noting the time on the clock, you frown—2 hours later than you said you'd take. maybe that's why rime's grip on your hand is tighter than usual, as if he planned for you to try to escape.

you finally notice how tired you look when he pulls you in front of the mirror. he rests his chin on your shoulder and taps his fingers against your arms, "i'm sure our beloved felix can deal with you messing up his outfit or a cheap book imploding if it means you're well rested, hm?"

"rime."

he rolls his eyes but looks at you in the mirror again, gaze softening as he lightly pinches your cheek, "i'll talk to him, okay?"

rime waits for your sigh and look of defeat (and gratitude) before moving. "now stop worrying"—he grabs and holds your toothbrush for you to take—"and brush your teeth already."

—

vii.

"i love you."

"...what?"

"i love you, rime," you repeat. "you don't have to say it back, i just...wanted you to know. i love you and i care about you and...you mean a lot to me."

you're both in bed and it's late, you should be asleep by now, rime thinks. especially now with his chest tightened and arms frozen at your words. he knows he should say something, anything.

"i used to try to kill you, you know," he says barely above a whisper.

you manage to laugh a little and smile, though he can't see it with your head underneath his. "you don't anymore, though."

"not that you know of," rime teases languidly. you scoff and lightly hit his chest, but his hold only tightens slightly as he breathes out a laugh.

"good luck getting rid of me then."

never one to force his thoughts, always letting him sit in them as long as he needed. even after spilling part of your heart to him.

rime looks down at your form, the way you curl into him as if there was nowhere else you'd rather be. it's almost comical. he spent so long being considered an enemy. he was constantly on the look out for danger and the starsworn—for you. someone who used to threaten what seemed to be his entire existence.

it's still clear as day in his memories—the times you'd yell and call him out on his bullshit when no one else would. yet here you were, mindlessly tracing the mark on his chest while he held you against him. because despite his greatest attempts, in the end you were always the person who'd see right through his act.

he doesn't usually let himself think about it too much. it's overwhelming and bizarre and if there's anything rime hates, it's being emotionally vulnerable. but you silently leave a soft kiss on his skin and he can't seem to stop himself this time.

"i love you too."

tags // @felixescellun @evanox @rimeliker @demon-paradise @pst-02 @diamo-chan

my taglist form if u'd like to join :0

[missluckycharms]

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Anon asked: heyyy! i love your writing sm💕 can you write angst please? make it hurt☹

Masterlist.

Summary: in which Harry is a single Dad due to losing his wife five years ago just shortly after their little love was born. Y/N has been there through it all. Harry has a rough night filled with whiskey and tears for his late wife.

A/N: this one is full of Angst and light hearted jokes to not get you too sad … sorry in advance, it’s a real tear jerker. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, talks of alcohol and drug abuse, talks of depression and very low mental health, curse words.

—

Five years.

It’s been five years since the passing of Myla Styles, the woman who granted Harry a wish he always wanted, the woman who loved him beyond all the galaxies and the woman who never saw any wrong in anyone, not even the worst of people, she always used to say “deep down, their heart is just aching” and Harry always admired that about her, she always looked on the positive side of life.

She held that same attitude as he held her hand in the hospital room, her fragile and pale body laying on the white bed as she peered up at him, oxygen tube in her nostrils and too many machines to count hooked up to her body, she was a shell of a woman, but she still had a heart of gold, the same hear Harry fell in love with when they were sixteen years of age. He hated seeing her this way, especially when their nearly one week old baby was resting in his other arm, fast asleep as her Mum clung to every bit of life she had left, but not once did her smile fade.

It all happened so fast, one day she was pushing life into the world and eight days later her life was being taken out of this world. There was complications with birth, the doctors and nurses finding undiagnosed ovarian cancer in her ovaries when they had to send her in for an emergency c section. Myla confessed she felt off, her body didn’t feel right, but she knew if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn’t risk the life of her baby getting treatment, she would rather her baby live over her. Doctors and nurses tried their best, trying to refer her to new hospitals to get stronger chemo if she wanted, but Myla refused, she told them to let her go, she was tired and she couldn’t stick around long enough to see if these treatments would work — she knew she was dying but Harry refused to believe it.

The day she left, was the day Harry felt like his whole world stopped, like the curtains were shut and he was left in a dark room with no way out. He promised Myla he would do his best to take care of their love, who they named Honey. He was dealing with the loss, Honey taking his mind off it a little and giving him reasons to pull himself from bed even on the days when he wanted to lay around and wallow in his own darkness — she pulled him out of those days, but two months later it all came crashing down on top of him.

He slipped into a wrong mind set, immediately knowing that Honey had to be taken away from him because he was living in fear he would hurt her, one day he woke up and he looked at her and just cried, he held her and he felt nothing, he didn’t even sympathise with her when she would cry for food, he felt nothing towards Honey and this scared him, terribly. Anne, his Mum took Honey in, letting Harry to relax and blow off some steam and get some help, his and Myla’s family all agreeing and saying he needed help and it wasn’t something to be ashamed about — he just lost his wife, they can’t lose him either.

Harry took the wrong route of clearing his mind and getting help, he found his therapy at the end of a bottle and a line of cocaine. He slipped into an endless spiral of week long benders and debts for drug money along with risking losing his home due to him quitting his high up job at his Fathers Law firm, he completely crashed and burned, he couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t stop his mind racing and the only way for it all to stop, and let him feel numb — was when he was drunk and high, passing out in every room of his home and in his garden, the neighbours finding him sometimes in their yard in a mess. They were the ones who got him help, they called up his family and they all rushed him off in an ambulance to get him sober and conscious again. Here is where he made the decision to sign himself into rehab, accepting the help the hospital offered and a few months later, he was out and clean, he stayed with his Mum until Honey turned one and that was the year Harry found his smile again, found his life and purpose again.

Looking back now, he doesn’t know how he ever made himself believe it was Honeys fault Myla was no longer here, he doesn’t know how he’s even alive because of all the drugs and alcohol he ingested every single night for three months solid, but he knows why everything turned around, it was his Angel looking down on him, guiding him and kicking him in the ass to get up and look after their little love, just like she asked him to do before she left, always look after himself and Honey.

It’s been five years since her passing, Harry is doing better than ever, he started working for his Dad’s company again and now he’s the president of the law firm, alongside his Dad who is the CEO, Harry being second in command and then being the CEO when his Dad retires from the firm. They kept their family home, even if it was just the two of them, they loved the home and it still felt like Myla was living here, her makeup still tucked away in her unused vanity in Harrys bedroom and her favourite paintings still hung up around the home. Harry even hired a nanny, she has been working for him for two years now, she’s even working alongside Harry in his office being his receptionist during the day and she’s Honeys afternoon and night nanny when she’s done in work and Honey is home from school.

Y/N is Honeys nanny, she takes care of the little lady and feeds her daily, even taking her to the playground and to the movies when Honey asked her could she go. She would do anything for Honey and Honey loved her endlessly, she loved the way she would allow her to eat sneaky chocolate bars after dinner every now and then and how she would always play dollies with her, kneeling down on the floor of the den and playing with the small girl until they were both in fits of laughter. Harry also adored Y/N, her passion for her job at the law firm along with her passion for looking after Honey is something he admires, she never once complains about being exhausted even though he can tell when she is, she didn’t have to think twice when Harry offered her the job as Honeys nanny, she knew the little one from her being in the office every now and then, and Honey was instantly drawn to her, the way she was so kind and the way she cared for Honey.

Tonight is a hard night for Harry, it’s Myla’s death anniversary and he’s been having a bad day, his mind racing and his heart breaking all over again, but this time he’s stronger, he’s able to power through until he could be alone and just let his emotions go, have a glass of whiskey and just cry a little flipping through old photo albums — he does this every year on her anniversary. Honey is tucked up in bed and he’s sat alone in the den on the sofa, the photo albums on his lap and his hand clutching a small glass of whiskey as he sips on it flipping through many photos from their wedding and from when they were teens and drunk in love in high school — so many memories can be attached to one person, and Harry knew one day they would be memories, but he didn’t know it would be so soon.

“Honey is fast asleep, left her door cracked open so she can shout if she- Harry? Are you okay?” Y/N stops suddenly, her eyes landing on her boss who was hunched over a photo album on the sofa, curtains drawn and the only light coming from a lamp beside a framed wedding photo of him and Myla on the table by the sofa.

“Yeah, thanks for putting her to sleep” Harry says weakly, not turning around which alarms Y/N, she’s seen him like this last year, she let him be as she was only new to it, but this year she’s determined to sit with him all night if he needs — he needs to have some company.

“That’s you?” She asks sitting next to him, Harry not moving or telling her to leave, he accepts her company as she looks down at the photo his eyes are laid upon — two teenagers at a party.

“Yeah, m’hair was a curly mess” he says with a low laugh, looking over the photo of a seventeen year old version of himself, smiling cheekily clutching a red solo cup and Myla wrapped under his other arm holding him around his waist, both their smiles wide and cheeky and their cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in their bodies.

“I think it looks cute, pitty it’s not as curly now” she says with a light laugh, watching as his ring clad fingers turn the page, taking a sip from his whiskey as he goes.

“This was our prom, she made me wear a pink fucking bow tie — absolutely hated it” he laughs, the crinkles by his eyes evident as Y/N laughs along, looking down at the curly headed teenager in a black suit, white shirt and a bright pink bow tie, matching Myla’s floor length dress next to him, a shawl over her shoulders matching as the corsage around her wrist match the pink of her dress also.

“She hated that dress a year later, she was packing up for college and I was helping her when she found it, immediately burst out laughing” he says laughing loudly, remembering back at the memory he has, Y/N beside him happy at how joyful he sounds speaking of the memories.

“Oh here we go, Frat boy Harry!” Y/N says with a loud laugh, pointing down at a shirtless twenty year old Harry, backwards cap on his head and “Myla’s Bitch!” Wrote on his stomach in paint, two beer bottles in his hands and Myla on his shoulders cheering with her hands up in a red bikini, matching his swimming trunks and baseball cap.

“Some of the best years of m’life, raging parties and no more curfews, we were two hormonal teens absolutely smitten for one another” he says shaking his head with a laugh, his eyes bright as he flicks them over the photos ranging from Harry dancing, Myla being pushed into the pool by him and Harry passed out with a mustache drawn on him with Myla next to him holding the marker with a bright smile mid laughter.

The book is filled with their college days, to their graduation day from college, their photo in their first apartment, Harry on his first day of work and Myla on hers. They took photos of small things, but at the time they meant the world to them, they were milestones in their lives and they never wanted to forget them. Harry is forever grateful that Myla had an obsession with photography, otherwise he wouldn’t have these to look back on and hopefully show Honey one day what her Mum was like, even if she’s drunk and half naked in some of them at college parties.

Harry and Y/N are in fits of laughter, tears falling from their faces as Harry explains every single memory behind each photo, one photo containing a memory of Myla at her bachelorette party, Harry coming out as a stripper and giving her a lap dance as she slaps his ass and throws money all over her husband — that one will definitely not be shown to Honey. Harry is like a whole different person when he speaks about her, his laugh becomes louder and his eyes become brighter, he even ditched his whiskey after one glass to speak about his late wife, Y/N looking at him with pure amazement and proudness of how far he’s come, how he pulled himself from a hard time and carried on life for the sake of his baby girl. He’s truly inspirational in her eyes.

“It should be easier than this by now, right? Like I shouldn’t be still grieving” he says when their laughs and stories come to a stop, their eyes hooded with sleep and faces hurting from laughing.

“What is grief, if not love persevering? You were both childhood sweethearts, you’ve loved her since you can remember and you always will, she’s your whole world, of course you’ll still grieve her, you still love her, and that’s okay” Y/N blurts out, her words quick as she blabs on while Harry watches her, a smile on his face as she explains and accepts his feelings.

“Never knew you were Shakespeare” is all he says, she rolls her eyes laughing, slapping his bicep a little as he shuts the album, tucking it away in the drawer again before turning his focus back onto Y/N beside him.

“Seriously though, never tell yourself you’ve been grieving for too long, it’s okay to grieve and cry yourself to sleep some nights, I get that, I do. You lost a person who made you who you are, but don’t forget, you still have a little one that will need you to be the person who makes her who she is”

Harry thinks she’s amazing, she’s smart and she’s so empathetic towards everyone and anyone. She has a heart of gold and she will never let anyone explain hers or anyone else’s feelings for them, she always allows people to express who they are, heck, one night she brought Harry to a gym after hours, explaining how her brother is a trainer there and he gave her the keys on the condition that she does his laundry for a month, she let Harry rage out and punch the shit out of a punching bag one night because he was so upset. She cheered him on and he was smiling as he was punching towards the end, she helped him release the emotions that built up and would of lead him back down a dark path.

She’s been an Angel sent from above, he knows Myla sent her to him because of how much they’re alike, Harry knows for sure they were sisters in a past life, their kind hearts and understanding natures alike but they have their differences, Myla was very out spoken and loved to party but Y/N is reserved and would rather stay inside with a hot chocolate and her crosswords while watching TV, but that’s another thing that Harry finds fascinating about her, she’s younger than him by eight years, when he was her age he was partying.

“Thank you Y/N, I needed this tonight” he says with a smile, her own smile on her face as she nods leaning over to rub her hand over his in a comforting manner, the pair looking at one another as they soak in their presences.

“It’s getting late, I should go” she says realising it’s nearly midnight, Harry and her need to be in work tomorrow morning and Harry has to wake up to get his little lady ready for school also. He gets a bit saddened when she says this, he secretly wants to hear more of her own college years and her own prom much like he told her earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a smile, watching as she gathers up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, car keys now in her hand as she smiles at him once more before heading for the den door. She pauses and looks back at him, his eyes meeting hers as they hold contact for a few seconds before she speaks up.

“See you tomorrow, Harry”

[angry-geese]

Homesick Remedy

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut and fluff. Tender sex, hickeys/marking, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding mention, praise kink (sort of/interpretable). afab reader.

Notes: Gojo returns home from a job and spends some quality time with the reader. domestic fluff turned smut

You're not quite sure when you hear the door open.

Gojo usually comes home late. It's the nature of his job. Being one of the world's best Jujutsu sorcerers doesn't exactly follow a 9-5 schedule. Curses don't care if you're sleeping. Most nights you would stay up to greet him. Your schedule was nearly as hectic as his, you dealt with this often. If he found you dozing off on the couch he'd press a kiss to your forehead and carry you to bed.

You had gone on a job the day prior. It was nothing of note; something you could easily handle on your own. A curse was proving to be difficult for lower level sorcerers so they sent you in. Mistakenly you let your guard down—only for a moment—and it cost you. The curse landed a blow on you. Nothing fatal. While your injuries weren't the most visible, they sure don't feel that way. You found yourself unwilling to tell Gojo, though. You could take care of yourself, but he always fussed over you. If he noticed something was off this morning, he made no mention of it.

Gojo's hand briefly touches your head, messing up your hair.

"You're home early." You say, reaching your arms out for him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

He leans down to give you a quick kiss before hauling you into his arms. Instinctively you bury your face in his chest, inhaling the woody scent of his cologne. As much as it smells nice, he puts far too much on. The scent tends to linger long after he's left the room. Something metallic hangs onto it. Blood. Although he doesn't appear injured.

Dramatically he flops back onto the couch. You shift so you're sitting in his lap, facing him. Dark circles line the skin under his eyes. It makes you wonder when he's last slept. His hair is a mess. Idly you brush it out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"Missed me?" This dumb looking grin spreads across his face.

"You? Never."

He visibly deflates. Of course you missed him, but his ego could survive a hit or two. There are very few things you enjoyed more than bullying your boyfriend. All in good fun. He's rarely bothered by it. Unfortunately you love him.

You often wonder how you got so lucky.

When the two of you first met, you couldn't stand each other. It was so long ago that it's hard to believe now. There was an obvious rivalry in school. He was always the best at what he did. Though he was a few years older, and moments you ran into him were rare, so it was often shrugged off. If you found something you thought you'd be good at, he was always better. Growing up, he was annoying like that. For someone like you, it made you furious. You had a petty, competitive streak. You had to be good at everything you did. You had to be one of the best sorcerers. You had to be the best in your class.

And you were, but he was always better.

You're a very talented sorcerer yourself, but it's hard not to feel inadequate standing next to him. Most people could say the same thing. Half of the Jujutsu world either wanted him, or wanted to be him. He always fit in so well.

It wasn't until well into adulthood that your paths crossed for long enough to talk. The two of you were more similar than you ever thought. You gave him a chance. Reluctantly so, but you did. Your work only made the two of you grow closer.

He shifts so you're in a more comfortable position in his arms, head resting against his chest. The sudden movement makes you wince. His demeanor completely changes. Gojo handles you like you're fragile; like you'll shatter in his grasp.

It pisses you off just a little bit.

"Is everything alright?" He asks.

He scans you over for injuries. The feeling of his eyes on your body makes you want to shrink back and hide.

"I may have had my ass handed to me on that last job." You let out a nervous sounding laugh, burying your face in his jacket. You're not quite sure why you're embarrassed. It was a mistake, nothing more. But he never makes them.

You're not sure if that makes it worse or better. So you don't question it.

You lean back in to deepen the kiss. It's the first distraction you can think of. It seems to work. The strong muscle of his tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your mouth. He tastes sweet. The scent of his cologne is heady, and makes your head swim.

"Do you want to?" He asks.

He's almost certain of the answer, but it never hurts to check.

You nod—maybe a bit too quick—but you nod. Despite the way your body aches, you want him.

"We're doing this in bed then." He says.

Gojo doesn't give you any time to respond before he's hauling you up into his arms bridal style, heading straight for your shared bedroom. The way he tosses your body onto the bed is a bit rough. It sends a sharp pain up through your ribs. The bed dips under his weight as he kneels in front of you. As you try to sit up, he pins you. His hands hold your wrists to the headboard, his knees straddling you.

Gojo coaxes your shirt over your head, humming in amusement when he realizes you don't have a bra on underneath. He palms at your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers, working them into stiff peaks. He leans forward to take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. It feels nice, but you can't help the throbbing ache it sends right to your cunt. Your hands tangle in his hair, gently guiding him where you want him most. It hardly takes him any time to turn you into a moaning, babbling mess.

You'll have a collar of hickeys in the morning.

Part of you hates how quickly he can turn you to putty in his hands. He knows all the ways that make you melt.

You palm at the growing tent in his pants. He's half hard, his cock leaking against his thigh. He's been gone so long, maybe you've missed him more than you thought. He's certainly missed you. He always finds himself wanting to come home to you at the end of the day.

You lift your hips enough so he can slide your shorts—along with your panties—completely off. Then Gojo's shirt. They're tossed in a heap to your side, landing by your discarded clothes. You're always surprised at how muscular he is without his jacket. It hides a lot more than you thought, you suppose. His eyes scan over you, and the instinct there is to hide. He notices you shying away and stops for a moment.

"Do you still want to?"

Again, you nod. You'd have stopped him if you really didn't.

He pulls you in for a kiss—just a quick peck this time—then plants one on the tip of your nose. Your cheeks turn bright red at that. His head dips down to press a kiss to your sternum; the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses down your bare stomach. Somewhere during that time his hands find your breasts, kneading the plush flesh. He's always admired the curves of your body. His was nice, but it was all angles and hard muscle.

His cock is around average in size—maybe a bit bigger—about six or so inches. It's pretty, like a pornstar's, and he always keeps it well groomed. He's not very intimidating. The head is a ruddy color, with a prominent vein running right to it. Although he's clean shaven, the hairs at the base of his cock are the same white as his head. That question bothered you for years before you finally got an answer. It doesn't take a whole lot of prep to take him, but he always likes working his partners up. Anything you could deal, he'd dish back out double. Never anything you can't handle, but Gojo can be a bit of an ass.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, sucking a dark mark where you won't be able to see. The action sends an ache of need right to your core. Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. Gojo's arms hook around your thighs, pulling you towards him. Your legs rest just over his shoulders. The aching need in your cunt makes it hard to think straight. All you want is for him to touch you. He licks a long stripe up your slit. His own eyes are clouded with need, his cheeks flushed, lips bitten pink. His strong hands knead the soft flesh of your thighs, his breath hot against your skin. He licks a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. You jump as he presses kitten licks to your clit, working the bundle of nerves in achingly slow motions. You taste sweet, he notes.

Your hands bury in his hair, guiding him to where you need him most. This time he relents, leaning in to lap at your clit in soft, steady motions. One of his fingers presses against your entrance. They're long, but thin, and dexterous. After a moment, he adds a second, pressing up against your g-spot. It's another moment before he starts pumping them. The sounds of your slick sex and moans fill the room. He sucks onto the sensitive bundle of nerves so desperately that it feels like it'll pop off. He swirls his tongue around it in a way that makes your toes curl and your fingers bury in the sheets. You get louder the closer you get to your own orgasm. He takes note of this. It's only a moment later when he pulls away. The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light. He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste. Gojo leans back in for a kiss. Not much more than a quick peck. You can taste yourself on him. He finds your shocked and disappointed look endearing.

"Please,"

A smug look spreads across his face. "Please what?"

"Fuck me,"

He cages you in his arms, pinning your wrists against the bed. You might be able to wriggle out of his grasp if you really tried; not that you want to. He can't help but admire the mess between your thighs.

You take his cock into your hands, giving him a few quick pumps. He's painfully hard. Precum beads at the head, which has turned an angry shade of red. Gojo wastes no time in lining himself up. His slick cock head traces around your entrance before pushing in. He takes his time, slowly bottoming out in you. The stretch stings slightly, but isn't necessarily painful. With all the prep, he slides right in. He groans as you take him right to the hilt.

As he starts to thrust, your scramble for purchase against his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing together behind his head. His hair tickles your neck. He coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him. You clench around him, pulling him back in. Gojo sucks dark marks into your neck, only adding to the collar of hickeys. He takes pride in seeing you all marked up. Some possessive part of him loves seeing the marks he leaves behind.

Gojo's hips roll against yours in lazy thrusts. To him, there's no prettier sight than seeing your form writhe under him. His hands grab your legs propping them up on his shoulders. The new angle allows him to hit deeper than before. He picks up in pace, snapping his hips against yours in short, quick motions.

His free hand traces circles around your clit. The heat in your stomach soon grows scorching in nature. You're close. He notices the way your breathing grows shaky, how your moans get louder and more desperate sounding.

When you cum, you cum hard. Your legs clamp around his hips, pulling him back in. The way your pussy spasms around him is enough to send him over the edge. It almost catches him off guard—he didn't expect to cum so soon—he bites into his tongue hard to stop the moan that escapes him. His cum paints your walls white, filling you up more than ever before. As he pulls out, he does so slowly to not spill any of his cum.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and maybe a bit of saliva. The sound of his steady breathing threatens to lull you to sleep. He smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it out of your eyes. Gojo looks at you with such adoration that it makes affection swell in your chest. Moments like these are rare; falling asleep next to him. Life rarely seems to allow it. It's always nice when you can take a break together.

"I missed you." You finally say.

"I know." He plants a kiss on your forehead. "I missed you too."

[sinner-as-saint]

Slow Hands

Steve Rogers x Reader AU

Run-through: Tony Stark found you while on a mission one day, since then he raised you as his own daughter. Most of the Avengers knew nothing about you, because Tony was so protective over you that he kept you sheltered and cut off from most of the outside world almost all the time. The few people who knew about you were Nat and Steve. And they adored you, even though you were a whiny baby most of the time despite being a young adult. However, somewhere in his all righteous, super soldier heart, hidden in a shadowy chamber beneath all the courage, loyalty and bravery - Steve Rogers nurtured his immoral, sinful desires for you. He was a composed man, and he thought he could keep it all hidden, in complete secrecy and perhaps never let his improper feelings show. But that was until he no longer could… 

Themes: fluff, smut, age gap

“Steve!” you shouted in excitement, almost running to the front door to greet your favorite super soldier. 

His laughter filled the entire house as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and gave him the tightest hug you could. “Hey doll! Happy Birthday!” He wished you, returning the same excitement you showed him. 

You pulled away from the hug, smiling as big as you could. His deep, ocean blue eyes looked down at you in awe. 

“Well I’m not jealous at all. Not even one bit.” A voice spoke from behind Steve. 

Steve moved to the side and your face lit up again at the sight of Natasha standing there with the biggest teddy bear you had ever seen under her arm. She gave you her signature smirk and you went in for a tight hug. 

“Nat! I missed you!” You whispered against her hair. She chuckled and kissed the side of your head. 

She pulled away smiling, “Don’t lie, we all know you only ever miss Steve.” She teased and walked past you and Steve and further into your home. 

Once she was gone, you immediately grabbed Steve’s hands and led him inside the lavish living room. 

“You just turned twenty one, doll. Are you excited?” Steve asked, letting his attentive gaze roam all over you. Something about you always made his body tingle with excitement. 

You looked adorable, he thought, as always. The blue dress looked perfect on you, and as much as he tried to fight the urge to look down at your chest, he couldn’t. He felt something stir inside him the more he looked at you. So he looked away. 

“I don’t know. Being a grown up is scary.” You answered, mindlessly playing with Steve’s fingers as you walked into the spacious living room. 

“Hey,” Steve said gently, turning his body towards you. He carefully cupped your face to make sure he has your undivided attention, “You don’t have to worry about anything. We’re all here for you.” He meant that with all his heart. “I’m here for you, I’ll keep you safe.” 

You smiled up at him and went in for another bone crushing hug. “Thank you Steve.” You mumbled against his chest. 

Steve kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you. He could feel your body heat pressing up against him - and his mind went straight to filth. He couldn’t help it, he tried. He always tried to suppress what he felt for you and hide it beneath many, many layers but he could never truly get over you. 

Steve met you for the first time just a few weeks after you turned 18. Because that’s when him and Nat finally figured out what secret Tony had been hiding for so many years. It was you; you were the perfectly hidden secret that Tony kept away from the rest of the world. The adopted, darling daughter of Tony Stark. 

Tony was very much protective of you. You only ever left the house when accompanied by someone. You were very much sheltered too. Too innocent for your own good. Shortly after Steve met you he realized that you were void of all the sinful things which filled the heads of most young adults your age. You were a perfect, pure little princess who was needy and playful but also more beautiful and feminin than any woman Steve had ever met. 

He was whipped, gone. You had him wrapped around your little finger and he wasn’t even complaining. He caught feelings pretty quickly for you, thinking it was nothing Steve thought he would get over it soon. But here he was now, years later and still feeling the same way. 

He knew he couldn’t be with you, Tony would kill him. But at the same time, the thought of you with someone else enraged him. He couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching you like he couldn’t. Something in him flipped like a switch when it came to you; he no longer wanted to be just or brave or be the hero or the knight which saved everyone. 

With you, he felt something much stronger, darker. The need to protect, the need to be territorial. To be selfish, and keep you all to himself. All his righteousness faded into sin around you. Secretly, he liked how everyone knew that he was your favorite. He liked how whenever you were being difficult, Tony would always call him for help to deal with you. He liked how even with other people around, you chose to stick to his side like his shadow. 

He loved it, loved you. 

-

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Tony spoke as soon as he finished lighting up all the candles. Twenty one of them. 

You were so excited, on your tiptoes as you closed your eyes and thought of a wish and right as you bent to blow your candles, the sound of the AI alerting something urgent was heard. You looked at Steve, a little nervous, and he was by your side in less than a second. 

“It’s okay, princess. It’s okay, it’s probably nothing.” He whispered, wrapping a protective arm around you while Tony and Nat were looking into what information they had just received. 

And judging by the look on your dad’s face, you could tell something bad had happened somewhere in the world, and they needed him to fix it. Which meant that you would have to spend the rest of your birthday evening all alone in this big, empty house. 

“You have to go to work?” You asked Tony, tears already forming at your waterline. You sounded hurt and heartbroken. 

Tony walked over to you and pulled you into his arms. Steve had to hide how he hated having to let go of you, as he took a few steps back to let Tony hug you. “I’m sorry, honey. But people need help right now.” He whispered into your hair. “I have to go.” 

Steve noticed that Nat was already gone, probably getting the Jet or calling the rest of the team for backup. Part of him knew that duty came first and he hated how he’d have to leave you. 

You pulled away from Tony’s hug, “You’re all gonna leave me alone on my birthday?” You asked, looking so broken that Tony felt his world breaking apart. He looked past you and his eyes landed on Steve. 

“No,” Tony answered, “Steve will be here keeping you company and keeping you safe until I return. Okay?” Tony knew that you loved spending time with Steve more than anything, and he knew that your mood would get a little better upon hearing that. “Right Steve?” 

Steve was surprised. It’s not that the team wouldn’t be able to manage without him, but he truly wasn’t expecting this. 

“Yeah. Of course,” he spoke as you turned to face him with tears in your eyes. He reached out and gently wiped a tear away. “Don’t cry princess, I’ll be here with you. Let Tony go, he’ll be back before you even know it.” 

You sniffled, weighing it out. Hmm, spending time with Steve was your favorite thing to do. But that would mean having to let your dad go. You hated it when Tony went away on missions. But you also knew that this was important. This was his job as Earth’s best defender after all. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, a little grumpy. 

Tony gave you a kiss on the forehead and apologized and promised to make it up to you when he came back, and left. 

-

Within the next half an hour, Tony and Nat were gone. You watched the Jet take off from your bedroom’s balcony, tears streaming down your face. You hoped and prayed that they came back home safe but you were also hurt and angry that they left you on your birthday. 

You stared at the night sky until the Jet could no longer be seen, then you walked back into your room and angrily started undressing, murmuring under your breath, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid dress! Stupid cake! Stupid birthday!” you got stuck in your dress because of the zipper and that’s when you started sobbing. 

Steve heard you crying and hurried his way upstairs and into your room. He found you knelt on the ground, on your soft rug, crying. Your dress was almost off but not quite, stuck around your hips, exposing your entire upper body. He pretended not to see the black, lace bodysuit you were left in. Your hair was a slight mess and the teddy bear that Nat gave you was thrown carelessly on the ground. Steve approached you with caution. 

“Hey princess,” he spoke softly. Your hands covered your face but he could tell you were silently crying. “What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna go downstairs? We can have a movie night, and there’s so much cake-,” 

You cut him off with a calm, yet bitter tone. “I don’t want that stupid fucking cake. I don’t want a stupid fucking party. I want my dad, and Nat.” You sniffled. “But where are they? Right, out saving the fucking world because people need them. Well I need them too.” You sniffled again. “Throw that stupid fucking cake away!” You raised your voice by the end. 

“Hey!” Steve grabbed both your hands and pulled them away from your face. His heart broke at the sight of your teary eyes. “I know you’re upset, but watch your language.” 

You lowered your eyes in shame. “Sorry.” You mumbled. 

Steve settled down on your rug, leaning against your bed as he gently pulled you onto his lap. You happily settled on his thighs, like you had many times before. And he noticed that you didn’t seem to mind your semi nudity. 

Steve placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently. He reached behind your back and unzipped the dress fully so you could take it off. You tossed the dress aside and Steve watched how you purposely threw it and made sure that it landed on the teddy; Nat’s gift to you. 

“That wasn’t nice.” Steve pulled your closer, praying to God that you don’t notice his erected cock pressing against you. 

“I hate it.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and huffing in anger. 

“No you don’t.” Steve fought back a chuckle. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.” The correct word would be ‘smoking hot’ but he knew he couldn’t say that out loud. But fuck did you look hot. 

You glared at him through your lashes and he could no longer hold back the chuckle. 

“Oh come on. There’s so much we can do.” He tried to get you in a better mood. And there was one thing which worked each time, “You want ice-cream?” 

The minute he said that, your face lit up in excitement. “Yes please!” You bounced with excitement right on his lap and Steve had to fight back the urge to lean in and kiss the living hell out of you. 

“Alright then,” he tried to ignore the way his body was begging for you. “Wait right here, I’ll go get you some.” 

Steve walked out and was back in less than five minutes. He wondered if you had gotten dressed in the meantime but when he walked back into your room; you were just as he left you. Half naked on the floor, waiting patiently, sat on your fluffy rug. 

“There you go,” as he handed you your tub of ice-cream and sat down next to you he also noticed that the teddy that Nat had given you was no longer on the floor but perfectly placed on your bed. He was right after all, you didn’t hate it. “Wanna watch a movie?” he turned to look at you and found you with a mouth full of rich, chocolate ice-cream. 

You nodded. 

Steve couldn’t sit still. The sounds of your moans of delight after each spoonful of ice-cream was driving him insane. And you weren’t doing it on purpose either. But he was falling apart, he could no longer maintain his calm and composure. 

He had to do something to get you to stop before he loses it. “Okay now, that’s enough. You’re gonna get sick.” He took the spoon and the half-empty tub from you and you groaned. 

“But-,” 

“No,” he set it aside, looking at the mess you made with ice-cream all over yourself; somehow all over your lips and chin. “You’re a mess, princess.” He said, looking at you lovingly. 

You felt the sudden need to get on his lap again, so you did, probably high off all the sugar. You straddled his thighs and scooted closer to him. “Clean it.” You demanded, playfully. 

You caught Steve by surprise. His arms wrapped around you instinctively but he was still a little surprised by your behavior. “Okay,” he reached out and wiped the sides of your mouth with his thumb and then he got lost in your eyes and before he knew it, he began leaning in. 

Your lips met his halfway, and while he was still surprised he kissed you gently; testing the waters. You kissed him back, slowly. Steve smirked through the kiss and deepened it while he gently laid you down on the fluffy rug, on your back. He hovered above you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He nibbled on your lip, tugging on it before slipping his tongue past your lips. You moaned, letting him do what he wanted. 

Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he pulled away to look down into your eyes. He then saw the wild look in your eyes. Had you always looked at him with that look in your eyes? 

“Hey,” he said softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “What’s that look for?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

Your face felt really hot for a moment, then you answered, shyly, “I… I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” 

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he chuckled, “Is that so?” 

You nodded quickly. And Steve leaned in for another kiss; he kissed you with all he had. He had dreamt of kissing you so, so many times. But not once had he ever thought that it would be on your bedroom floor, on your pink rug. 

You could feel his hunger through his kiss. Your hands gently cupped his face to pull him closer when he tried to pull away. Steve smiled and kissed you with more passion and he didn’t stop until you pulled away to take a breath. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked, looking down at you and wondering if this was truly happening. You got shy and tried to hide your face but he wouldn’t let you. “No no, answer me princess.” 

You told him the truth. “I was… scared that you didn’t… that you wouldn’t- I was scared that you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how I feel.” 

It was true. Ever since you met Steve, you have had a secret crush on him which morphed into something so much more over time. No one knew, it was your little secret. Although, not so much anymore. 

Steve fought the need to smirk. “And how do you feel?” 

You released the lip you had in between your teeth. “Right now, tingly.” 

Steve smirked. “Show me where, princess.” 

You grabbed his hand, the one which gently touched your face and you guided it down till in between your legs. “Here.” You were almost breathless. 

He immediately cupped your core, applying just the right amount of pressure against your throbbing clit. He chuckled before leaning in to kiss along your jaw, whispering sinfully, “Mind if I touch you?” 

You let out a quiet moan, “Please…” 

Steve kissed down along your neck as he gently moved your underwear aside and gently slid his fingers up and down your wet folds. You gasped the moment he slowly circled your clit. You moaned when he dragged his finger down and pushed it past your entrance. “You okay, princess?” 

You nodded. “More...please,” you whined. 

Steve placed his mouth back onto yours and then added another finger and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

He placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and rubbing it gently while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand. You threw your head back and moaned when his fingers touched you in all the right places. Your body squirmed, your back arching off the floor as he made you feel good. 

“Have you ever thought of me? While touching yourself? Hmm?” He asked and your face burned again and you whispered out your answer. 

“Yes…”  

He chuckled against your lips. “You dirty, dirty little girl.” 

You moaned again when he sped up; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet pressure forming in between your hips. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” 

You nodded at his question and caught yourself grinding your hips against his hand; moaning and whimpering. 

“It’s okay, princess. Let go, cum for me…” 

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You came all over his fingers, moaning out loud in pleasure. Coming undone all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out, getting everything he could out of you. 

Steve pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss anymore, just hunger and passion and pure craving. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. 

He couldn’t take it any longer, he had to feel you. So before you could process what was happening, Steve tore your body suit off of you like it was nothing. You gasped in surprise but before you could say anything, he diverted your attention elsewhere by kissing down your body. 

“Do you know,” he kissed along your chest, “how long I’ve wanted this for?” He took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his teeth before releasing it and giving the other the same attention. “Been waiting to kiss you,” he kissed further down your body, “to touch you,” he settled in between your legs and spread them further apart, “to taste you…” you felt his warm breath and then you felt his warm tongue, parting your folds gently. 

Your back arched off the rug as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down again, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. You whined and whimpered; with your legs wrapped around his head, your body squirming in pleasure and your moans incessant. Your hand flew to his hair instinctively and you tugged on it as he flicked his tongue and teased your clit over and over again. 

You felt your legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud in pleasure. 

“Steve…” you whined. 

You heard him chuckle as he kissed along your inner thighs for a moment. “You’re gonna cum for me again, princess?” 

You nodded, and let out a moan when he got back to eating you out. You had touched yourself before, but none of that compared to what his mouth felt like. 

“Go on, cum for me again…” 

You did. You came all over his mouth, shaking and moaning in pleasure under him. He looked down at you in pure adoration. “You did so good, baby.” He leaned in to kiss your lips briefly, “So good,” he mumbled against your lips. 

Next thing you knew, Steve tossed his shirt off and started unbuckling his pants to free his erected cock. He couldn’t wait to just be inside of you but before he could, you got on your knees and gave him a look he couldn’t quite understand. 

“What is it, baby?” he gently touched your cheek. 

Your lips were swollen, and he couldn’t take your eyes off them. “I want to make you feel good too.” You mumbled, quietly, avoiding his eyes. 

Steve smirked and leaned forward to kiss the side of your mouth. “You want to use that pretty little mouth and make me cum, is that it?” he sounded cocky, and his sinful words sent shivers down your body. 

You nodded, shy despite your request. Steve stood up immediately; towering you with his tall and large frame as you remained on your knees in front of him. You realized that you liked it when he looked down at you. 

“Go ahead princess, make me feel good.” 

You inched closer to him and went ahead and unbuckled his pants and lowered it just enough to free his erected cock. You bit your lip as you looked up at him, “But I… I don’t know how…” you finished in a whisper and a nervous look in your eyes. 

Steve traced your mouth with his thumb, urging you to part your lips. “Know what you do to those big lollipops you love so much?” 

You nodded at his question. 

“Just like that, princess. Go on,” he inched forward, pressing his tip to your lips. 

You parted your lips, sticking your tongue out and licked his tip. 

Judging by the way he hissed in pleasure you assumed you were doing something right and it only made you want to hear him moan even more. He inched his hips slightly forward, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. 

“Come on, you can take it princess…”

You did. You let him into your mouth and then pulled him out, then let him in again. You watched how his face morphed into a frown as he gently slid his fingers into your hair. Steve looked down at you and smiled, you got the hang of it pretty quickly. 

In no time you were bobbing your head around him. You took him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck…” he swore under his breath again as you took him deeper into your mouth. “Your mouth feels so good, princess.” 

His praise gave you a rush. You wanted more. You wanted to be good for him; good to him. You wanted to be his good little princess. So you gave him your all. You took most of his cock into your mouth and repeated your actions again and again, letting his raw taste fill your senses.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. He moaned and growled and tugged on your hair occasionally as you pleasured him. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste, the occasional saltiness of his cum and the feeling of his smooth skin against your cheeks and the top of your mouth. You felt the veins of his firm cock against your tongue. 

You closed your eyes to keep the newly formed tears from escaping, and you sucked his cock until he came undone all over your tongue; groaning and hissing in pleasure. You swallowed all that he gave you, licking his tip gently even after he came; wanting to get every last drop of him. 

He smiled down at you, “That’s enough baby, stand up.” 

Steve leaned in to kiss your face once you stood up again; along your cheek, your lips, your chin, whispering, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you, princess.” 

You stood there, a faint smile on your swollen lips as you let him shower you with compliments. Steve wrapped his arms around you as he walked the two of you back until you felt the end of your bed. He pushed you down on it gently. 

“I need you… bad,” he mumbled, looking down at your naked body lying there in front of him. “Will you be my good girl, baby? You’re gonna let me make you feel good?” 

You nodded, lips parting as your heart raced. “Yes…” You were a bit too eager. 

Steve discarded the rest of his clothes and he was on top of you in no time. He parted your legs and settled in between them. “You ready, princess? It might hurt a little bit, but it’s gonna be okay. I’m here, okay?” 

You nodded quickly. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. 

You squirmed and moaned as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your wet folds, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body was on fire, you wanted him. Bad. 

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. A strange pressure building up in between your legs as your body accommodated him inside. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, stopping halfway. 

You forced your eyes open as you looked up at him, nodding, “Yeah…” You gasped as he pushed his cock further into you, your eyes closing once he was seated deep inside you. It took you sometime to get over the foreign, yet pleasurable feeling. 

“Look at me.” He almost moaned, and the sound forced you to open your eyes again. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you,” he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. 

Your eyes were fixed on his as he gently pulled out and pushed back into you again. You whimpered, but his kisses and soft words calmed you down. He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again as he repeated his actions. 

“Does that feel good? Do you like having me inside of you? Huh?” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth as you nodded, or tried to. 

His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while fucking you like his life depended on it. Passionately and gradually speeding up. 

Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off your bed. 

“You feel so good, baby…”his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Steve…” you whimpered as fucked deeper into you. 

He groaned, and swore and bit down on your skin as he felt his orgasm building up nicely. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna be my good little princess and cum all over my cock, huh?” He cooed. “Come on baby, cum for me…” 

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came. “Steve….” 

Your body trembled under him as you came. He caught his breath, then leaned in to kiss you, repeatedly. Whispering something you couldn’t make sense of at the moment. Your mind was clouded, with lust mainly. 

You weren’t sure how long it took you to calm your heartbeats and your breathing, but when you got back to your senses you were cuddling Steve, holding onto his chest. Your ear was right above his heart and his steady heartbeats calmed you down. 

“You did so well, baby.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head. 

You were quiet for some time, and Steve thought you had fallen asleep but then you replied, “Thank you, Steve.” 

“What for?” 

You smiled, turning your head to kiss his damp chest. His cologne was fading but it was still there, and you loved it. “For always making me feel safe.” 

Steve smiled. 

“This is gonna be our little secret though. Okay, princess?” He asked, playing with your hair and running his hand down your back. 

You giggled. “I know, I won’t tell anyone.” 

Steve caught the mischief in your tone. “God, you’re gonna use this against me to get all the ice-cream you want in the world, aren’t you?” 

“Yup.” 

[lovelybarnes]

reckless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson, platonic!natasha romanoff, platonic!steve rogers

warnings: mentions of injuries, descriptions of fighting, angry bucky, a horrible ending, i kind of really hate this

about: “the things i feel for her are unlike anything i’ve ever felt before.” for a sleepover!

i actually wrote another one with the same quote but i didn’t think it fit so i changed it (that one will be posted tomorrow or the day after so i can edit it)

you’re annoyingly reckless to a point where it gets dangerous.

he’s told you this a thousand times before but you don’t listen- aren’t listening at the moment.

he knows it’s ironic that he’s being reckless by not paying attention to what’s going on, too concentrated on you- even if you’ve told him countless times that you literally can’t die (to which he responds with a “you never know!” because, really do you?)- but he has a metal arm and sam, who’s been hovering around him like a vulture after noticing his lack of concentration.

before he can react to it, a slimy arm is promptly cut off by you, the blade you threw now back in your hands and stained green with the things’ blood. you scowl at it and shoot him a dirty look, “pay fucking attention!” you demand, shaking the weapon haphazardly to get the goo off. he can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth but rolls his eyes and obeys, knocking an ugly alien down and crushing its chest with his boot.

he can still hear your cocky remarks and giggles- yes, giggles, you giggle when you fight life threatening menaces- paired with the gross sounds of your knife impaling the aliens they’re fighting. it’s the only thing keeping him from practically babysitting you, a reassurance that you’re there, careless and impetuous, but alive and close.

suddenly, he can’t hear you, and he turns to what he quite possibly believes to be the most disgusting thing he’s seen in his life (and it’s been a long one, so far). you’re blue, covered in a slimy substance, and your face is so red, it’s beginning to look nearly purple with the cyan sheen over it. you screech abruptly, wiping at your face angrily and jumping at the thing that probably did that to you. he nearly feels pity for it. nearly, because, in your rage, you hadn’t even noticed the large gash along your shoulder. before he can go to you before you kill yourself, his metal arm feels like it’s being sucked, taking him with it, and he grunts. “what the fuck-” he manages, unsure of what he’s looking at, but trying to cut through the sticky arm attached to his own. you’re there in five seconds flat, still blue and still angry, which he notices makes the slicing through the appendage easier.

you seem to decide to stay with him after that, and he’s not sure if he’s offended because you don’t think he can take care of himself- which is ridiculous, since this only happened because he was taking care of you- or touched.

“god, i wish i had wanda’s powers. chaos magick works a lot faster than causing chaos,” you complain, trying to wipe away the blue sludge at the same time and wincing when it tugs at your injury. he is reminded of the shoulder wound he nearly got his arm ripped off for trying to warn you, and he stops your hand. “you’re bleeding, you should probably be a little more careful with this.” he motions to your arm, avoiding touching it.

you frown at him, “it’s fine, it’s just a little cut.” (it’s most certainly not a “little cut.”)

“y/n-”

you extend the hurt arm over him and flick your hands when you see an alien about to rip bucky’s head off, a grimace passing your face that he sees but you try to cover up anyways. “see? it hurts you, you need-”

“i just saved your life, would a hurt person be able to do that?” you cut him off, and he stares at you. noticing a green thing coming up behind you, he grabs your waist and moves you out of the way, shooting it with his gun and watching as it drops to the ground. “ow!” you protest, “you hurt my-” seeming to realize you’re about to prove him right, you shut up and roll your eyes. “you’re welcome,” bucky huffs, wiping away some of the blue stuff from your cheek.

your cheeks warm against his touch without your permission, and you turn away. bucky smirks at your reaction.

“shut up,” you grumble, extending your fingers and aiming at a group of the aliens ganging up on natasha. they freeze for the few seconds they’re under your control, and nat manages to take out two in the moment. the three left break out of the trance, turn to each other, and begin to fight. natasha makes eye contact with you in a form of thanks and starts to take the rest out. you hear a gun go off behind you and turn to see one of the things that sprayed you on the floor. bucky saved you again, great, it’s not like he’ll rub it in your face forever.

“you need to pay attention, what if i’m not here?” bucky scolds. “then never leave,” you flirt casually in response. with a few twirls of your finger, most of the aliens stop paying attention to your team and begin attacking their own teammates.

you don’t notice when one of the few unaffected beings picks up a discarded gun and shoots at you twice. bucky moves you away from a head shot, but one lands opposite to the bleeding slash on your shoulder, and the other hits your thigh.

“goddamnit, y/n, pay attention!” bucky growls, holding up your full weight when your adrenaline begins to run out and everything becomes blurry. “‘m fine,” you try to reassure, attempting to stand back on your wobbly legs. bucky doesn’t let you, shooting at as many aliens as he can with one gun. he turns to look at your state after he shoots most of them, allowing the others to take care of it while he tries to take care of you. his metal hand is touching the small device in his ear, telling the others the situation while his other arm holds you up. you might be delirious now, and your eyelids are becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. “hm, i’m not going to die, b’cky.” you tell him, noticing the increasing panic in his voice as he talks to steve. “stop saying that, how would you know if you haven’t died yet?”

his question is confusing for your foggy brain, so you decide to skip it, unknowingly making his worries worse. the blood running down your back isn’t stopping, and bucky stops for a second to lift you up completely, tucking his hand underneath your knees to carry you. at the tug at your thigh, you bite back a scream. bucky pretends not to notice; his hands are covered in a warm red. he’s trying his best to ignore it.

“don’t die,” bucky whispers again and again, making you frown, “how many times do i ‘ave to tell you i can’t die?”

“i’ll believe it when you don’t,” bucky mutters, and the blue sky turns to gray when he’s inside the quinjet. he sets you down on the medbay cot, looking lost as he calls out friday’s name. “yes, mister barnes?”

“y/n- uh-”

“do a scan on me and… and treat accordingly,” you interrupt. “scanning now,” friday obeys, and you turn to bucky. “by the time you figured it out i would have bled out.”

“that’s not funny, y/n,” bucky says seriously. you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, “calm down, i’ll be fine.” friday has enclosed you in some clear glass, red grids letting you know of your condition. “ooh, that’s bad,” you mumble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend. “what?” said boyfriend asks, and you wave him off as best you can- which means a pathetic bounce of your arm- and tell him to let friday do her thing. “we are not done here,” bucky instructs, but sits next to you and holds your hand. you can see his glossed eyes now, you wonder how you didn’t see them before.

“shouldn’t you be fighting?” you ask, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. rest, your body begs. you’ll comply later. “they’re almost done, the chaos thing you did makes their job a lot easier.”

“‘s what i do,” you say breathily before falling asleep.

-

you’re still in the quinjet the next time you open your eyes, which lets you know it’s only been a few hours and you’re feeling better already. goddess healing, you think, looking around to see bucky’s hand still around yours. he looks worried, the hard lines usually softened by the sound of your voice as hard as you’ve ever seen them. you squeeze his fingers gently. “bucky,” you coo, “i’m not dying anymore.”

bucky turns to you immediately, squinting, “that’s not funny.” it’s like deja vu, but you’re not sure from where.

a vein on bucky’s neck throbs, and you’re aware that you’re pushing it, so you stop for a second, “i was just kidding, i-”

“no!-” bucky’s voice is near yelling, so he shuts his eyes for a moment, continuing in a lower voice, “you almost died, do you know how terrifying that is? you nearly bled out in my arms.” sam, nat and steve, who were waiting for you to wake up next to bucky, pause when he raises his voice. “bucky-” you start, softer now, trying to sit up. bucky stands, “listen to me!”

steve stands, beginning to put a hand on bucky’s shoulder, “buck-” he’s silenced with a cold look from bucky. sam gets to his feet too, telling steve and nat to give you both a minute. they do, after nat kisses your cheek like she always does when you get hurt. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed now, reaching for bucky, “bucky?”

“you don’t… you don’t know how much you scared me, y/n. you have to stop being so careless,” he says after a few seconds. you furrow your brows, “i’m not careless, i’m confident in my skills.”

“you are. you’re careless and reckless and hasty and i need you to not be,” he says harshly, you frown. “why? i’m fine and i’m always going to be-”

“you don’t- you don’t understand!-” bucky snaps. “then help me understand,” you implore. bucky closes his eyes tightly again, breathing in slowly. “the things... that i feel for you are unlike anything i have ever felt before, and i can’t- i can’t lose you, okay?”

“you’re not going to,” you assure, extending your arms towards him, noting the tiny ache in response. he walks over to you, letting you grab his jaw when he’s close, you run your fingers over his cheeks gently. “i’ll be more careful,” you promise. bucky nods, tucking his face into the dip of your neck. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, letting him squeeze your waist almost to reassure himself you’re actually there.

“hey,” you say quietly after a few moments, pressing tender kisses to bucky’s cheek, “sit down, i want to do something.” you stand, grabbing onto bucky’s arm when you stumble a little and promise him you’re fine and are taking it easy. you take out the first aid kit from one of the cabinets, setting it down next to bucky, opening it and taking out everything you need. you begin to clean his cuts, putting a pink hello kitty bandaid over one of his particularly bad ones. it’ll be gone within a day, but you can’t resist, and it makes him laugh.

you hum while you dab at a small scratch next to his eye, and he chuckles lowly, you look up at him, “what?”

“you’re still a little blue.”

[arrowflier]

can you write “Hit my husband again and I’ll fucking kill you” but this time Mickey says it 😯 always wondered how he respond to a lip and ian show down

The house was quiet when Mickey woke up from his accidental afternoon nap. He sighed into the pillow, stretching an arm over the space where Ian would normally lie.

It was cold. Of course it was—it was the middle of the fuckin’ day. Ian was probably still at work, at that dead-end job that barely even made a dent in the bills.

That made Mickey sigh for a different reason.

He was thinking about just staying there, going back to sleep until Ian got home. Ian would accuse him of sleeping all day anyway; he might as well make it true.

Then a crash sounded through the house, the outer wall vibrating against Mickey’s extended leg, and raised voices rose up through the floor vent.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Mickey heard Lip shout as he rolled off the bed and scrambled for the closed accordion door.

He ripped it open, stumbled out into the hallway, caught himself on the wall when another thud sounded from below.

“Was thinking I didn’t want to be little bitch like you,” Ian’s voice echoed up the stairs, gravely and rough.

There was a clatter, like dishes falling, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Well, Mickey thought absently. Guess Ian was home after all.

He hurried to the stairs, tripped over the first one, and kept going. When he got to the landing, he stopped, watching the carnage that was Ian and Lip Gallagher trying to pummel each other in the middle of the family kitchen.

Ian was winning, that was for damn sure. He had Lip in a headlock, using his height to his advantage, while his brother flailed. It didn’t last long, though, Ian’s arms loosening when he caught sight of Mickey with wide eyes, and Lip finally got in a solid hit to Ian’s gut.

Ian went down. Lip followed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mickey yelled out, rushing down the steps as soon as Ian fell. “The fuck is goin’ on down here?”

Neither Ian nor Lip responded, too busy grappling on the floor to spare him a glance. Ian kneed Lip in the groin—Lip pulled Ian’s hair. Ian hooked a leg around Lip’s and flipped them, pinning his older brother to the floor—Lip headbutted him, scrambling out from underneath.

Mickey was there when he stood, shoving Lip into the corner of the counter to get to Ian’s side. He reached down to grasp Ian’s arm, help him up, but his husband slapped his hand away, too preoccupied with a freshly bloodied nose to notice whose it was.

“Ian, hey!” Mickey yelped, shaking his hand out. “What are you hitting me for?”

“He does that,” Lip spit out off to the side, cradling his ribs as he leaned against the cabinets. “Likes to take shit out on people that are trying to help him.”

Oh, hell no.

Mickey left Ian there on the floor, holding his nose and staring up at Mickey apologetically, and marched the two steps over to Lip. He stood close, toe to toe, and leaned in even closer.

“The fuck you just say about him?” he hissed in Lip’s bruised face.

Lip blinked.

“He just quit his job, Mickey, he tell you that?” Lip asked. “He tell you he threw away the only good thing this family has right now?”

Mickey paused. Cut his eyes down to Ian without moving out of Lip’s space.

“That true?” he asked, and Ian didn’t answer. His silence was answer enough.

Mickey turned back to Lip.

“So he quit that stupid-ass job,” he said. “You started a fight over that?”

“We need the money, Mickey!” Lip cried. “Not like you’re helping out, and we can’t all live off stolen cereal all the time!”

“Yeah? Our contributions not enough for you, college?” Mickey asked. “How’s your job doin’ right now?”

“Mickey,” Ian said from the floor, quiet.

“Not now, Ian,” Mickey responded. “I’m taking care of something.”

He let his voice drop, pushing forward enough that Lip should be able to feel the heat of his breath, the heat behind his words.

“You don’t get to put that shit on Ian,” he growled. “Or on me. You’re a grown ass man, start acting like it.”

“He started it,” Lip said. “Threw a damn bowl at me when I told him he needed to go beg for that job back.”

“Don’t care who hit who first,” Mickey said flatly, not pulling back. “Or why. You hit my husband again at all, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Lip swallowed, audibly. His eyes flitted off to the side.

“Whatever,” he said, feigning disinterest, and shoved at Mickey’s chest.

Mickey let him, falling back a step so Lip could move away from the counter. He watched as Lip left, not bothering to stop and help Ian, just going straight out the back door and letting it slam shut.

Mickey waited a breath, watching, but the door stayed closed. Then he went to Ian, and helped him up properly this time.

“You good?” Mickey asked. He didn’t specify as to what.

“Yeah,” Ian said on a sigh. “I’m good, Mick.”

“You sure?”

Ian offered a half-grimace, half-smile. “I’m sure. Families fight, Mickey, it’s nothing new.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah, you think I don’t know that, wise guy?”

Ian’s smile turned real.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“It’s okay,” Mickey told him, then, “I’m kinda proud of you, you know.”

“For quitting that job?” Ian asked. “I know you hated it.”

“No,” Mickey answered. “For beating the shit out of Lip.”

He waited as Ian laughed, watching the way it brought life back into his pained eyes.

“Now come on,” he said as the laughter began to fade. “There’s a warm spot on the bed callin’ your name, man, go get in it.”

Ian skated a hand over Mickey’s hip as he obediently moved toward the stairs.

“Are you coming with me?” he asked, and Mickey nodded.

They would talk about it later, he was sure. About the job, about Lip, about the future. About why Ian felt the need to fight his brother in the middle of the house, in the middle of the day, over something he would have agreed with about just hours ago.

But that could wait.

“Sure, Ian,” he said. “Let’s go enjoy our fucking extended honeymoon.”