#her missions genuinely made me so sad :[

[jinaxxo]

my dear arthur...

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

[luvrxbunny]

hold it

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Pussy Slapping

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, praise, subspace but miguel doesn’t bring her back (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.4k

A/N: a few things- not a lot of Spanish cus people made me too nervous abt it. the prompt doesn't really factor into the story that much imo, sorry- not feeling super good abt this one tbh :( (not proofread)

He slaps you again and your teeth dig into your lip to keep your cries in. “Keep it in, sweetheart. I’m not breeding you so you can waste it all.” You nod frantically at him, aiming to please him as you clench all your muscles and try your best to hold his cum inside. You watch a satisfied smile spread over his face and his fingers come down to your pussy and spread your lips, watching your hole twitch. “That’s it. There we go, good girl.”

Your entire body is sensitive from how he’s been using you. He came home desperate to breed you and why would you refuse? Once he came in you though, he told you to hold it in, to keep all his cum inside you to ensure it takes, but your weak, post-orgasm body and your post-sex hazed brain couldn’t keep up. 

You’re laying back on the pillows, one leg over his thighs and he’s sitting halfway between your legs. His eyes are stuck on your pussy, watching the way you quiver to hold his load in, especially with how he’s been teasing you. He’s mesmerized by the sight, some of his cum already leaking out, a small stream breaking through as you whimper at your lack of control. 

You try to hold it in but eventually, your body gives up, too over-stimulated by his repeated slaps over your clit, the wet sound it makes when his hand connects with your pussy. He has this teasing, amused smirk on his face every time your body trembles after he hits you. You couldn’t handle it. Miguel grabs your thigh that’s in his lap and spreads you open further, watching as you twitch and let go, letting his cum slide out of you and onto his sheets. Then he slapped your pussy the moment he could see his cum sliding out of you. 

“I told you to hold it.” His voice is stern, non-negotiable, and sends a shiver down your spine as you tense all your muscles again. He laughs quietly, low and teasing. “I’m just gonna have to fill you again.”

He tuts at you, gives a disappointed sigh, and crawls back between your legs. You’re deep in subspace, wanting nothing more than to please him and taking his sigh as real, genuine disappointment. Tears well in your eyes and you whimper your apology as he lines himself with your entrance. “M’ sorry, Miguel. I-” You’re cut off by him sliding inside you, forcing a sob-like moan to fall from your lips. His eyes snap to your face at the sound, he’s climbing up your body and cradling your face within seconds.

“What’s this? You wanna stop, sweetheart?” You shake your head vigorously and wrap all your limbs around him, holding him close to you, pressing all his warmth against yours, and leaving pleasured cries in his ear. “C’mon, talk to me, amor.” He hasn’t moved inside you but his hands haven’t stopped caressing your body. He slides up your back to the base of your neck and gently pulls you away from him. Your eyes are closed, little tears resting on your lashes, chipping away at his heart. You sniffle once and try to tilt up into him, forcing his cock to slide against your walls in the way only he can. Instead, he forces your hips back to the bed with a soft grunt and looks back at you expectantly. So you give in.

“Jus’ wanna be good for you, Miggy.” Realization, sadness, and relief course through him. He hadn’t noticed you were so far gone, too caught up in his own mission, his need to fill you again and again, but the fact that he missed your needs because they were clouded by his own sends a pang of hurt through his heart. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, nose then lips. You moan sweetly against him, hands instantly coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to you. He pulls away and gives you one more kiss before looking deep into your eyes. “You’re always good for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me, baby.” 

He feels your clench on him at his words, a soft smile coming to his face at your predictability. You pull him closer to your face, just centimeters from his lips, and grind yourself up into him, earning a gentle moan from his lips. “See? So perfect, amor.” He thrusts into you, deep and hitting your G-Spot on his first try. His name comes out of your mouth as a shout, your nails dig into his back as you try and stabilize yourself. 

His hips speed up, starting their more brutal pace, knocking any stray thoughts loose from your head. He’s fixated on your face, hyper-vigilant to your reactions, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, that he’s giving you everything you need. He’s already desperate to cum in you, his cock still sensitive from the load he gave you a few minutes ago. You’re letting out high-pitched, passionate moans into his room, filling the space with sounds of you and your soaked pussy. His cock twitches inside you at the sound and you feel it. 

You let out a desperate moan and slam your lips into his, wet, needy, and messy. His spit ends up all over your face, you’re just trying to lick at him, into his mouth, over his lips, anything he’ll give you. Your desperation has his moaning raggedly into your mouth, his hips slamming into you harder, his tip bruising your cervix as he abuses it. “I love you so much, Miggy.” Your words stab arousal through him like a hot knife, slicing through his entire being. He collapses over you, groaning your name into your neck, almost deafening you with their volume. 

You’re always so soft for him, it’s almost painful how much it turns him on. He’s been slapping and abusing your pussy all night and you’re still so in love. You re-angle his head, forcing him to focus on you, watching the love that you’re pouring into your gaze. It’s making his balls tingle, and tense when they slap against your ass. “Te amo más bebé” His moan is smooth with the words as they slide from his mouth.

(“I love you more, baby”)

His muscles draw tight as he cock twitces inside you. “M’gonna fill you up. Gotta-” He tilts your hips toward him, forcing his cock deeper, pressing into your cervix almost painfully and he whimpers at the feeling. “-llegar tan profundo como pueda. Make sure you can keep it all in, bebé.” His hips begin to stutter and shake against yours as you tighten endlessly around him. You’re so out of it, all you can feel is the pleasure he’s giving you and your orgasm that’s about to snap in your stomach. Miguel grinds into you one more time, shaky, slow, and hard. You’re cumming around him. You moan a garbled version of his name, so loud and wrecked you barely recognize your voice in your ears. The sounds are ravaging Miguel though, they’re sending shocks through his body and he suddenly can’t hold on any longer. 

(“-get as deep as I can”)

He hunches over you, forcing his cock deeper, sending a new explosion of pleasure through your body with the sensations. He’s flooding your wet heat, painting you, coating your walls completely in his seed as he moans your name into the sex-scented air. He mutters love notes to you on repeat as he lets out rope after rope of cum into you. He’s breathing in his shaky breaths along with the scent of your hair as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and pulls out slowly. You whimper at the loss of his stretch and it oddly warms his chest, that you still want him after he’s been with you since he got home. 

He grabs a little towel on the side of the bed and wipes himself down before turning to do the same to you. Only to find you with your fingers buried deep inside yourself. He would be hard again if he had anything left in him. He basically runs back to your side, wanting an explanation but instead getting an even more erotic scene. Your eyes are on his, looking like you’re pleading for something and he can’t decipher what. “What is it, baby? Are you okay?”

You nod at him eagerly and little tears well in your eyes. “M’keepin’ it all in for you, Miggy.” He’s stunned to silence at your words, unable to believe how deep you are. “Tell- Tell me I’m good—? I’m- Am I being good?”

He almost passes out. He feels his sensitive cock fattening up again. Apparently, he does have something left in him. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[cutiecusp]

Memories, part three.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader.

TW, Memory loss, mentions of PTSD, light fluff.

You watch him as you both enter your shared home together, the tightness in his chest obvious as he scans the room, his dark eyes flitting over all the things that made your home unique to you both before settling on a photograph.

"You look beautiful, cant believe you got me in a suit." He remarks gruffly, staring at the couple in the photograph.

You take the frame off the table, and hand it to him, your smile genuine.

"What's more unbelievable is Soap ate the cake before we even cut it."

You watch Simon throw Soap an annoyed look, the Scot held his hands up in mock surrender, before joining the others in the kitchen.

Simon heads to the mantlepiece, his fingers tracing over the frames, as if he was trying to bring back every memory by touch.

"There's no doubt we look good together." He smiles, picking up a picture of you both on holiday, the sea in the background, your face beaming as you hold a giant ice cream.

"We had to share that ice cream." You quip, standing next to Simon.

Your cheeks redden as you remember all the sugary kisses afterwards, melting into his arms as he held you close.

Simons gaze flickers over your face, taking in the blush, but not remarking on it further.

"And who's this?" He asks, pointing to a picture of himself, with a dog.

"That's Scout, and in the back is Riley." you point out, your eyes soften.

"My brother owned Scout, and Riley was ours, you brought her home-"

"I brought her home from a mission." He finishes, his gaze steady.

"I remember her."

You smile sadly. He could remember your dog, but not you?

He picks up on the mood change, and offers a hand, and without hesitation, you take it.

"Sorry love. I wish i could remember more."

You shrug it off, as if it wasn't a big deal, and while your heart was breaking, you had to remember he was home. So you put on a watery smile, and change the subject.

"Tea?" You ask.

He nods, and finding his way to the kitchen, it allows you a minute to breathe.

Your eyes take in the first photo he saw, you in a white dress, your smile brightening up the shot, your eyes shining and focused on Simon, who stood tall and broad in a black suit, mask off, his eyes burning back into yours with desire and love.

Tears threatened to fall, and at the sound of laughter from the kitchen, you let them. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you cry, your vision blurring out the real world for a minute.

After a few minutes, you feel strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. You look up, to see a familiar jaw line, and honeyed eyes.

"He will be okay, petal." Kyle remarks, his voice soft.

You shake your head, how can he be, when he cannot remember the life he's created with you.

Kyle rubs soothing circles on your back. Out of the taskforce, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick felt the most like family, calm, collected, always ready for an adventure, and the one you confided in the most, he was like a brother to you, so it wasn't unusual that he was there to comfort you.

After a few minutes, you caught your breath and took the tissue Kyle offered.

"Thank you, Kyle, i should be grateful he's home, and i am, its just-"

Kyle nodded, his face solemn.

"We are going to give you guys some space, but if you need us, call us, I'm on paperwork duty tonight, so ill be awake."

You sigh, before nodding. You look up to see Price and Soap at the door, sad smiles on their faces. Over the last five years, these men had become your family, and it hit you hard that they must be grieving a friend too. You hug them both, pressing a kiss to each cheek before they head out, a clear understanding that this is the first day of a new life for both you and Simon.

The rest of the evening was consumed by dinner, Simon helping you prepare a basic dish, and asking small questions along the way. The mood felt awkward, hollow, with shallow conversations, Simon caught up with the year without him.

You hide in the bathroom, emotionally strung out. Essentially Simon was a stranger to you now, and while your heart yearned to break down the door and wrap your arms around him, he didn't feel like yours anymore.

You hear him shuffling around in your bedroom, so you go to investigate.

"Jus' looking for some shorts for bed," He calls out, seeing your shape in the doorway.

"I'll take the guest bed tonight, Simon." You say softly, looking everywhere but him.

"You don't have to do that, i will." Came the gruff reply. You look up to find Simon staring at you.

"I know, deep down you are my wife, and you are someone special to me, and i also know that this is a sore situation for you, so I'll take the other room."

You nod, returning to the bathroom, unable to argue with him. All you want is your husband back in your arms.

As you wash your face, and apply your skincare, you notice Simon watching you over your shoulder.

"You still use the vanilla cream?" He asks nonchalantly

You pause. How would he..

"Your dressing gown smells of vanilla in the bedroom. Made me think of cake. I thought the smell could trigger something" He admits sheepishly.

You nod, it had been a favourite of yours, and he routinely brought you more, even on deployment.

"Thank you." Simon says quietly.

You turn around, a questioning look on your face.

"For not giving up on me. For always believing I'd come home."

Your eyes soften, and you nod, unable to speak.

He throws you a smile and heads into the guest room, leaving you to finish rubbing lotion into your skin.

** A FEW HOURS LATER.**

You wake up with a start, a loud noise coming from the guest bedroom, throwing the covers back, you race into the next room.

Simon is drenched in sweat, his eyes unfocused as he tosses and turns in his sleep.

You know better than to wake him physically, so you call to him from the edge on the bed.

"Simon, its me, love. You are home, in the guest bed. You are home. " You chant your mantra a few times, before he groggily opens his eyes, before they settle on you.

"I'm home?" he asks, his voice deep with sleep and fear.

You nod, slowly approaching him.

"Yes, Simon. You are home, its me, you are safe."

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching Simons chest heave, his foggy gaze drinking you in like a cold glass of water on a hot day.

"Love?" He calls, his voice strained, his arms open.

You settle between his arms, your hand stroking his cheek, soothing him.

"I'm here." You assure him.

His breathing evens out, and you hold him closer, your heartbeat settling him.

"I remember the ice cream." he murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow.

"The ice cream?"

"From the photo, i remember it took you forever to eat it, it was when i came home from Paris, and we took a holiday. I remember kissing you after, your laugh as you put some on my nose."

You smile, Your thoughts going back to that day.

"I did, and do you remember the cat we saw, getting all the old ladies to feed it croissants?" You chuckle.

Simon pulls away, his eyes locked on yours, your bodies still close. Your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I remember the dress you wore for me that night, love." He remarks, watching you blush.

"I remember it not lasting long on your body." He continues.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

" I remember a lot, now love. But will you stay until i remember it all, and we can build our lives back together?" He asks, his voice full of vulnerability.

"I promise." You whisper, before his lips press gently against yours.

"I promise you forever."

......................................................................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @mims900 @skeletonsucker @vmaxis

[fallen-gravity]

some thoughts on the moana 2 novelization, as threatened promised <3 under a readmore for spoilers and also because I don't trust myself to keep it short

(friendly reminder that I do not ship Maui and Moana! you can rb, but don't be weird about it)

Genuinely right off the bat I can't get over how loving Moana is described to be? She just loves others so much. She always describes Pua and HeiHei as her friends rather than her pets because of how much she cares about them!! it's so stupid cute that not only does she refer to Pua as her "loyal, adorable friend", but it's also implied that she handmade the little satchel he likes to ride in just for him. It eats me up inside!! She cares so much!!

The center island she's looking for is spelled as Motufetū!! I always love getting confirmation for these things, it makes things so much easier as a fic writer.

One of the souveniers she takes back with her alongside the broken pottery is a "massive clam". hello???? foreshadowing??? did everyone know about the giant clam guardian??

"For a man who had once forbidden her from going beyond the reef, he now spent quite a lot of time beyond it himself." AUUWHAAHHH THAT LINE KILLED ME WE LOVE TO SEE GROWTH FROM TRAUMA

"He loved her enthusiasm, but she seemed overexcited, and she was still his daughter, and he wanted to take care of her" MOANA!!! IS!!! SO LOVED!!!!

Loto's tool is called an adze! also she's apparently only 17?? two years younger than Moana?? not at all what I would've pegged her as, honestly

The storytelling tapestries are called siapos!!! more terminology!!!

"Her eyes darted to the image of Maui carved into the wall. She hadn't seen him since her return to Motunui, and she missed him. Not that she would admit it out loud" STRANGLING YOU STRANGLING YOU STRANGLING YOU

"Humans, were in fact, why he was here now, in this unknown realm of the gods looking at the pinkish white ball in front of him. At least, he thought that might be why he's here. These missions to benefit humans didn't always come with clear instructions" immediately followed by thinking about the trip to Te Fiti with Moana. What a dumbass <3 "I'm doing it for them and I don't know why? totally unrelated note haha that trip to Te Fiti with Moana was fun :)"

Never saw any of that journey coming, never could brute force his way through it, worth every second. Only considers getting the hook back as an afterthougt, ougghhhhhhh

Homeboy sucks at pretending that he doesn't care about Moana. He's talking to Matangi for all of two seconds and he's all "I'm a changed person! For um. no particular reason! It was definitely because of the thousand year isolation and nothing else whatsoever!"

There's no finite explanation for why Maui's there, but he credits Moana for making him a better person for being the reason. Something about breaking the curse? It's never made clear, even in the book.

Mini Maui selling him out for bullshitting about hating Moana is even funnier in the book, like Maui goes "yeah lol that girl was just a tool I uused to get my hook back" and Mini Maui starts pounding on him. Homeboy Moana can't even hear you and you're still mad at Maui for bullshitting, it kills me. Maui tries shooting him down. "Mini Maui wasn't convinced" has me in stitches

Maui's internal dialogue shifting to "oh wait, yeah, I wanted to surprise her with a visit. Oops." while he's tied up also has me in stitches. ffs, maui, get your priorities straight

"He refused to let Moana be hurt or threatened" I am on the floor

Every time Tui calls Moana "my dear" it adds ten years to my lifespan

The siapo of Maui in the storytelling fale is so lifelike that "it's as if he were about to jump off the fabric at any moment and start teasing her." that's so stupid cute!!!! also so stupid sad that she probably talks to it a lot hoping that it'll work someday. ough.

"Maui was having a bad day. Actually, he was having a lot of bad days"." feels like it was pulled right from a fic I would've written in 2018, I'm screaming

"I don't need her to save me...again" swallowing the earth as we speak

Curly still being the default nickname is also taking me out I need to be given financial compensation asap

There's a parallel that got lost in translation from page to movie, there's the bit where Moana's like "I'm sure Maui's off doing important demigod stuff, wherever he is", but there's also a bit of internal monologue where Maui's like "I hope Moana's faring better than I am, wherever she is" I'm gonna conk their heads together y'all need to communicate

The book directly mentions Moana and her crew passing Te Fiti. Did I miss that from the movie? Did they show Te Fiti, or is this a book-exclusive detail?

Their little Kakamora buddy has a name!! Kotu we don't deserve you. Also he's the Chief Kakamora's son! I just thought he was second in command. That's a whole baby

Maui knows who Pua is, somehow! He sees Pua waddling around and his first thought is "okay, this is weird, why do these people have Moana's pig with them?". Doesn't even remotely click that she could be with them. He's actually about to leave until HeiHei shows face and boy is he absolutely mortified. It eats me up inside. Instant shift of "goodbyeeeeee random humans I don't liiiike!!!" to oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, where is she????

Incredibly suspicious that Moana is the human that has all the gods talking. Something too about Maui having to force himself not to care about her. Did someone do a little too much bragging about his favorite human?

"I thought you'd be...more." okay a) I def think Maui's been overhyping her and b) haha More callback we love to see it

Also, Matangi's just a demigoddess! Not a goddess at all. interesting, interesting, interesting

Moana also sucks at priorities, one single mention of Maui and she instantly shifts to oh, oh my god, is he here? is he nearby? where is he?

Moana recognizes the Portal of the Gods as similar to the entrance to Lalotai...does that mean Lalotai is connected to the Realm of the Gods, in some way? are they the same place under a different name? also all :') that the dance she does to open the portal is specifically meant to be a copy of the haka that Maui did in the first movie.

You know, I think you need her just as much as she needs you. WHAT DOES IT MEAAAN? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHAT DOES IT MEAN??? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???? YOU NEED EACH OTHER??? WHY DO THE GODS KNOW?? WHY DO THE GODS KNOW????

The first thing Moana does when she's back on her canoe is look for Maui because she thinks he's gone 🥹 wants to go back and look for him until she realizes he's the reason she's dangling in the air. Did he stop her from falling off the canoe? ough, I'm deceased

I can't get over Moana assuming he just wants to catch up, they are both such chronic babblers.

"His expression was both happy and annoyed." I'm losing my shit.

"But yeah, it is good to see you again" 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹.

"The fire in the sky lead us to you" can we stop with the written in the stars stuff. can we stop. my poor heart can't take it. platonic soulmates fr. "maybe we're supposed to do this together." THE GODS KNOW!!!! THEY KNOW!!!

"Maui bit back a smile." kill me. kill me. i'm dead on the spot. kill me.

Ohhhhh, I always love seeing what they do in place of the songs and the replacement for "Can I Get a Chee-Hoo?" kills me most of all, I think. Maui still goes to sit with her, but when Moana starts talking about all the people she's gonna let down, he comes to a screeching halt when she mentions Simea.

"If anyone should be upset, it should be me. Since when do you have a sister?"

"You would've met her, if you ever came to visit me." OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!!! She's trying to tease him but there's a tinge of hurt in her voice, like she feels like he doesn't care enough about her to take the time for her!! You need her as much as she needs you!!!!!

"Three years is a blip to me, princess," says the liar who thought about her on a near-daily basis!!!!

"Empathy wasn't Maui's strong suit. But he seemed to be trying- for her. and that dulled the pain a little" i am in my grave. i am in my grave.

"Why are you even here?" -> "Because...because I've been low before, and I couldn't see my path. And someone came along who I underestimated and she lifted me up. Someone I don't want to underestimate herself right now." THROWING UP!!!!!

"Wow, you're the worst at this." -> "Maui pretended to look offended" conking their heads together as we speak they are so SWEET!!!!!

Maui giving her all the credit for being the one to defeat Nalo!!! not himself!!!! her!!!!!!!

"Maui said he was better for knowing her. That had to count for something" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

It still destroys me that Maui's entire priority is keeping Moana safe!!! He's not just diving in to fight, he keeps going back to make sure they're all safe!!! that's all that matters to him!!!

God their little exchanges are so stupid they're killing me. "Nalo doesn't care about you!" "Yes he does! I'm Maui!!" "THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!" dumbasses <3

oooh he really doesn't want to separate, his eyes keep going back and forth between Moana and the monster storm :')

Okay. okay. okay. listen. there's a lot more to Maui's goodbye in the book than in the movie. In the book it's an apology. It's a rushed explanation on why he hadn't gone back to visit her prior. He lied about not having the time for her. All his time has been about and for her.

The reason I didn't visit...was 'cause you made me want to be better. You deserve the whole ocean...I wanted you to have it. Watch yourself out there. I could pull up millions of islands, but if you're not there to land on them, what's the point?

FOR!!!! HER!!!!! EVERYTHING!!!! IS!!!!! FOR!!!!! HER!!!!!

He hated leaving Moana and her crew behind,

He trusted her.

God, coud you imagine? First movie Maui, getting his hook destroyed? Those three words hold more power than anything. He trusted her. If anyone can do this it's her. He trusts her. He trusts her.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Moana. Nothing else matters!!! He could be all full of himself and think about how heroic he's being for The Humans (other) and all he's thinking about is his Favorite Human.

The thought of failing her pushed on him as the weight of the water grew heavy.

WHO WROTE THIS!!!! WHO READ OUR FANFICS!!!!! WHO KNEW!!!!!

His tattoos glowing with the power of the gods the first time he tries lifting Motufetū.....were there other gods that were helping him? are there gods who know?? Te Fiti if you're out there,,,,,,,,,

Moana rushing to protect Maui when lightning barely misses him the first time is.........destroying me?? taking me out??? imagine being protective over a demigod literally pulling an island out of the sea. imagine trying to take many hits for him. using her conch shell to call out to the storm to hit her instead? Maui yelling at her to Not do that? probably because it's breaking his own heart to watch?? ough.

"It went against every instinct, but Moana knew she had to listen to him." THAT'S ALSO GROWTH!!! KEEPING THEM BOTH SAFE BY NOT PUSHING HERSELF FROWARD!!!! GROWTH!!!!!

Maui getting hit by three strikes of lightning, and he uses what he thinks are his last dying moments to say goodbye to Moana. He locks eyes with her, gives her a sad smile, and yells Find your way, kid. Just to her. Just loud enough that she's the only one who can hear. and oh boy is this book brutal about that fourth and "fatal" lightning strike. It's strong enough to fry him. It launches him up so high in the air that Moana can't even see him

So, uh...fun fact! The reason Moana doesn't instantly dive in the water to go after him is because she thinks she's too late and that he's dead on impact. She doesn't even see him hit the water.

"Moana gasped as she felt her necklace pop open and her shell- Simea's shell- toppled out. Frantically,she reached for it, ignoring the danger around her. She couldn't lose that shell. She had already lost so much."

She thinks of everyone she loves when she's about to dive into the water and reach for Motufetū herself and Maui's among them right alongside her family. God. If there were ever a more indirect found family confirmation............

Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and filtering through the water. Moana hoped that her crew was okay. That Maui had somehow survived. RIGHT!!! FROM!!!! THE FICS!!!! I SWEAR THIS IS PULLED RIGHT FROM THE OLD FICS!!!

His hook was missing, but he didn't care. He dove in after Moana. Hi, yes, 2018-era me is screaming out from inside me. She's clawing her way out of my chest. This is everything she's ever needed.

Fun fact part two! I don't remember how it was in the movie, but Maui watches Moana die too!! I think in the movie he just sees her still body on the surface of Motufetū, but in the book he dives under the water just a moment sooner and helplessly watches the lightning strike through her body. He watches her go still and sink towards the ocean floor :) Now they both have the trauma of watching each other die! :) :)

He tries desperately to catch her before she hits the floor but there are multiple instances of him being knocked back by a shockwave :') The gods sure have found his weakness!!!

He pushed through it. Nothing was stopping him from reaching Moana.

The grieving!!! The grieving is so fierce!!

Isn't it fun?? He practically has a burial ceremony for her! He catches her before her body hits the floor, and he places her gently on the surface of the island so she can fulfill her story! God! I'm unwell! He places Simea's little shell next to her body so Moana can be close to her sister one final time!

Then, kneeling next to her, he put his hand to his heart. It rested on the tattoo of Moana that had appeared after their last adventure. It had been his constant reminder in the three years since how strong a human could be. 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

It's just...he doesn't even realize the ocean is creating a dome around them! He's that grief-striken!!

The ocean knows them. It knows what they need. He calls it Moana's. Moana's ocean. aUGGHHHHHH.

Hey so all of that talk about Maui not allowing himself to let the gods know that Moana's his friend and then he's begging them. He's begging the gods and her (her? his? huamnity in general?) ancestors to save her because she deserves more than this. she deserves better. If any of the gods knew nothing of the two of them they sure as hell did now, ohhhhhh boy is that gonna screw him over later :')

So the book never explicitly states she's a demigoddess either! It very ominously states that She'll never be the same.

Moana gets to see her ancestors this time! I can't remember if she woke up before they disappeared in the movie, but when she wakes up her thought process goes wait, where am I? to oh, shit, MAUI?!?!? to TAUTAI VASA? TALA?? HELLO??? someone please invent therapy already she's gonna need it pretty desperately

god imagine if she thought maui was also dead?? she doesn't but ohhhh. ohhhhhh the angst potential of her thinking they're all there to see her off. god.

Shock and awe. That's all Moana can get out of Maui's expression when she catches him staring.

Mini Maui, the more accurate voice, is bawling his little eyes out when he sees that Moana's okay

Moana understands the implications instantly. and she knows that she's only alive now because Maui prayed for her

"Arching an eyebrow, she nodded over her shoulder. It was time they raised an island- togehter". SICK!!! TO!!! MY!!! STOMACH!!!

"She saw Maui, a familiar comfort in this uncharted territory" [AGGRESIVE TABLE SLAMMING] THAT'S FOUND FAMILY BAYBEEEEE

:') there's a big group hug with Moana's crew and Maui tries to wiggle his way to the center. That's almost shot for shot a scene from one of the first Moana fics I ever wrote back in December of 2017 :') turning into a little lizard and skittering into the center of the hug where Moana is because he wants a proper hug too :')

Okay so I definitely know for sure that when it says the villagers of Motunui are shocked Maui's there because they've heard so many stories about him that it's just the regular old legacy stories. but listen. let me be deluisional. it's because Moana always tells stories and Moana's like. known around the island as his best friend. so it's like!!! oh!!! there he is!!! Tautai Moana's best friend!!!! :')

He calls Simea Mini Moana!!!! weeping and sobbing

Simea's big brown eyes familiar. He Also calls Simea tugging on his ear Very Familiar. That's so stupid cute. I wonder if he ever visited when Moana was out voyaging and he ran into Simea if he'd be able to tell that she was her little sister? :') also hilarious because I'm sure it implies Moana told him Simea wanted to yell at him and he went "yeah okay that's fair"

(still lowkey sad Maui never gets included in the family hugs. Ohhhh if they ever found out what he did to save her they'd pull him straight in for sure)

MAUI STAYS!!! CONFIRMATION THAT HE STAYS!!!!

He stays long enough for things to calm down. He and Moana head out by themselves to help their little Kakamora buddy reunite with his family (cough cough)

Moana goes from "that kid" to his "dear friend." cherished. beloved. it's not even relelvant to the plot. He just smiles at her and goes "where to now?" and it's just. that's his dear friend!!! god!!!! so beloved!!! that feels like it holds even more weight than best friend!!!

god. god. I really gotta write a fic where they talk about watching each other die

good shit!!! gooood shit!!! I'm gonna be screaming about this forever. god.

[saintsenara]

This is too hopeful, but is there any chance Regulus was never invested in Voldemort's cause and always had grandiose ideas of taking him down from the inside? That the Voldemort-fangirl cutouts on his bedroom were actually research of patterns of activities?

This is the first thought I had when I read the book as a teenager, and maybe it's a simplistic and immature assessment - but what made sense to me was not the rosy idea that "he was good all along", but how I saw his potential relationship with Sirius.

I imagine Regulus did not have a happy childhood because his best friend was the house elf, and the Black home sounds like a horrible environment, even if you toe the line to do your best to live up to the name's expectations.

I just imagined him as a quieter younger sibling who wanted to prove himself smarter than the boisterous outspoken older sibling by approaching the situation completely differently. Failed dismally, obviously.

But again, I was a teenager, and I read many different meta pieces on Regulus, including some of yours (I think). Just wondering if you think there's space for this interpretation.

this is very cute, anon. the teenage commitment to wanting to see the best in a sad-eyed boy is universal, and i respect it enormously.

but no. it's not what's happening here.

regulus serves two very interesting purposes narratively.

the first is that - across order of the phoenix and half-blood prince - he serves as the narrative parallel to draco malfoy: someone whose interest in the death eaters is inextricable from his perception of his role as a pureblood son from an extremely class-conventional family; someone who wants to be perceived as important in contrast to a rather more impressive family member; someone whose blood-supremacist beliefs are completely sincere and whose support for voldemort is completely genuine, but whose understanding of how voldemort intends to achieve his aims is hopelessly naive; someone who gets in over his head and then panics; and someone whose relationship with voldemort is seen by harry as entirely subordinate.

[he never assumes draco will succeed in his mission, for example. nor that draco will be able to outfox voldemort in any way. why he pities him is because he thinks draco's going to be murdered by the dark lord any minute, but he also views this as - essentially - a skill issue, which wouldn't be a problem for him...]

but in deathly hallows, regulus' narrative purpose shifts. the revelations about his turn against voldemort become the dress rehearsal for the reveal of snape's true loyalties at the end of the book - he's someone who had a damascene conversion when voldemort threatened somebody he cared for, gave his life to bring the dark lord down, and did so in a clandestine way [i.e. by ordering kreacher not to reveal what he'd done] in order to protect the surviving member of the family he loved from voldemort's wrath.

[although the idea that kreacher was his best - or, indeed, only - friend isn't actually stated in the text. regulus is implied to be someone fairly lonely by the narrative - the photograph of him as seeker (the only player who acts alone) follows harry seeing the photograph of sirius and his friends - but all we ever learn about his relationship with kreacher is that it was kind. and, indeed, that it was similar to walburga, narcissa and bellatrix's treatment of him - which hermione says, and kreacher doesn't correct her.]

regulus' second narrative purpose - along with his parents - is to underscore that blood-supremacy is a mainstream political view.

the series dispenses with this in deathly hallows, when voldemort's malevolence becomes much more singular and the conflict narrows to the final confrontation between good and evil, but prior to this book it's clear that the death eaters' political rhetoric is just speaking the quiet part out loud. pretty much everyone thinks that being pureblood is better and there are too many muggleborns knocking about being annoying, they just don't say it.

orion and walburga don't support voldemort because they're uniquely immersed in dark magic. they support him because they're mainstream and conventional and conformist - while sirius, the family's free-thinker, is none of those things and therefore not a voldemort fan. the same thing is being implied by them supporting voldemort as by vernon reading the daily mail - that they're small-minded and conservative, but not radical. vernon would be horrified by a radical right-wing terror group who sought to destroy the status quo he values. orion and walburga pivoted away from voldemort because his violence became similarly radical.

regulus joins the death eaters, then, due to convention. he wants to prove himself - absolutely - but he wants to do so within a social structure he's familiar with and which he and his family value. his doubts about voldemort clearly begin when it becomes apparent to him that voldemort wants to destroy the wizarding social order and build it anew.

and his best parallel here is percy weasley.

percy is - by far - the most conventional of the weasleys. his estrangement from his family in the latter half of the series is meant as a criticism of this conventionality - percy believes what he's told and doesn't think for himself and conforms to the group and so on - and his estrangement from his family is also clearly intended by the text of order of the phoenix to provide more context than the surface-level narrative is able to about sirius and regulus' relationship:

"I'm just s-s-so worried," she said, tears spilling out of her eyes again. "Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this... and P- P-Percy's not talking to us... What if something d-d- dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up?"

percy gets written a lot by the fandom as someone who was a secret resistance fighter during the thicknesse regime. i'm afraid i've always thought this is nonsense - not because i think he was a death eater [i don't!] but because i think his position, as someone who clearly doesn't like to go against the crowd, would be to keep his head down and try to get through the war without rocking the boat.

his decision to fight in the battle of hogwarts is him rejecting his earlier conformity and taking a stand. so is regulus' decision to turn against voldemort. and the implication of the text is that both of these decisions are reasonably abrupt "shit or get off the pot" moments.

and this is why the narrative considers them impressive.

the central theme of the series is choice - and, specifically, the choice between what is right and what is easy. the narrative wouldn't care about snape if he'd always been a double agent, it cares because he had once sincerely believed in voldemort and then chose to do the right thing and reject him.

in the text's eyes, then, regulus' choice to sacrifice himself to defeat voldemort is actually much more impressive if we assume he was a loyal death eater than if we assume he saw through voldemort straight away. and notwithstanding the moral question, i also think it's much more interesting.

[incorrectfatui]

some Fatui headcanons before we resume the quotes (some funny, some sad, some just random idk) these are all over the place but oh well Pierro: Really liked talking to Signora about magic. They both use very different kinds, but they still have similar understandings, and no one else really wants to hear him ramble

Capitano: Oblivious to romantic relationships. Thinks everyone is just really good friends.

Dottore: Got so seasick on the way to inazuma and back, that he genuinely considered never visiting again. Spent like 5 months trying to research medication against motion sickness and ended up poisoning himself. Intentionally makes mathematical mistakes in his budget reports, just to annoy Pantalone.

Columbina: can't swim.

Arlecchino: Says "I don't have a favourite child", but definitely has a favourite child. Tried making Dad jokes once and failed miserably, mostly because she didn't understand the joke herself. Sometimes forgets that most the Harbingers are immortal, so she'll have situations where she mentions researching some long dead person, only for one of the others to go "oh i knew that dude personally". Somewhat salty that she isn't hundreds of years old.

Crucabena: Her birthday is on christmas. She doesn't know what christmas is, so it doesn't matter, but she just gives off the vibe of being born in winter and I think it'd be funny. Wrote letters trying to get Neuvilette to implement the death penalty monthly, but never received a reply. Has, one more than one occasion, used Hydro not to fight, but to drown people, because she liked watching them struggle.

Clervie: her and Peruere once illegally operated an Aquabus while on a mission. Peruere may have used it to commit vehicular manslaughter. Also she made mother's day presents every year, despite them being thrown away. Tried to teach herself elemental magic, but couldn't figure it out without a teacher. Once overheard Crucabena praying to the Cryo Archon. briefly had hope that she changed for the better, only to hear "Thank you your Majesty for giving me the ability to give people hypothermia".

Lyney: Genuinely thought Arlecchino was a guy for like 3 months after being adopted. Also sometimes forgets that Freminet isn't his biological brother.

Lynette: More cat-like than Lyney. Has caught birds and eaten them raw before, but doesn't do it anymore, even though Arlecchino approves.

Freminet: More powerful than Lyney and Lynette, even if it doesn't seem like it. Doesn't have all that much control over his cryo vision yet, so he mostly uses it as a support for his claymore, instead of the other way around.

Pulcinella: Has a lot of fun calling everyone a child, even if he isn't older than them. Dottore? Unruly teenager. Scaramouche or Sandrone? Practically a toddler. Arlecchino and Childe? Babies. Only ones he doesn't do this to is Columbina and Pierro. Columbina because he's scared, Pierro because of respect.

Scaramouche: One of the only people who actually understands how Ei's Realm of Euthmiya works. Has tried to explain it to several people, including Pierro and Dottore, but get's frustrated every time because they don't understand it exactly. So overcharged with electro energy, that touching him may give you a small shockl (yes, even after Sumeru). Is actually not completely sure how his body actually works, and neither is Nahida. Dottore has a pretty level of knowlegde (although he still gets a lot of surprises), but the only one who actually understands his body completely is Ei.

Sandrone: Tried to become active in Fontainian politics at some point. Promptly fell asleep in the courtroom because she spent several all-nighters trying to complete a project of hers. Complicated feelings about Scaramouche, ranging from "I want to dissect him" to "no one understands this guy more than me, ignore the fact that we talk like once every 5 years"

Signora: Even with the cryo delusion, her body temperature runs really, really hot. Is basically a walking heater- Columbina likes using her as a portable source of warmth. Also, her blood being liquid fire is not an exaggeration- got wounded in the palace one time, only to burn down half a library.

Pantalone: Once suggested suing Raiden Ei for child support. It did not work.

Childe: Completely unaware that Arlecchino isn't the first Knave. Thinks she's immortal too. Also only figured out that Dottore has clones after about a year of being a Harbinger.

[atommadly]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Harry Wells x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut, explicit. This is extremely long! I'm so sorry (or not ;) )

𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢—𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Masterlist

"Yoohoo!" Cisco shouted, his voice filled with excitement, as he turned to give you a high five.

"Well done, Barry!" you said through the comms, your tone full of admiration.

Barry had just managed to catch yet another meta-human causing trouble in Central City. It was always a relief when a mission ended successfully, and this one was no different.

"Now, get back here so we can all head home for Christmas!" Cisco added, a playful urgency in his voice.

You leaned back in the chair behind the Cortex controls, letting out a contented sigh as you took a sip from your steaming cup of hot cocoa. "That was a great mission," you said, a satisfied smile on your face. The team had really pulled together, and it felt good to see it all come together so smoothly.

"Yeah, but I'm exhausted," Cisco admitted, his voice dropping a little. "I just want to go home and spend Christmas with Gypsy."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of Gypsy. "Oh, she's coming!" you exclaimed, genuinely thrilled for him. "That's great, Cisco. You deserve it."

Cisco grinned, his face softening with a dreamy smile. "Yeah, things are going great between us," he said, a faraway look in his eyes as if picturing her. His happiness was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile along with him.

He tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "What about you?" he asked, his gaze shifting towards Harry, who was in the other room, absorbed in tinkering with a piece of technology.

You followed his gaze, your heart warming at the sight of Harry, so focused on his work yet so comfortable in the environment your team had built together. A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Might not be easy to date the Grinch," Cisco teased, his voice laced with light sarcasm as he nodded toward Harry, who seemed oblivious to the conversation.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a chuckle, nudging him playfully on the arm. "Hey, he’s not that bad," you said, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you. It was true that Harry wasn’t the easiest person to understand, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worth it.

"Oh, Y/N, come on, he never wants to celebrate Christmas with us!" Cisco protested dramatically, his hands raised as if pleading with you.

It was true. Harry had never been particularly fond of the holiday. He had his reasons, deeply personal ones that he rarely talked about. Christmas had always been a painful reminder of all the losses he’d endured, the sadness that seemed to cling to that time of year like an unshakeable shadow. You understood. You didn’t hold it against him.

"It’s okay," you replied softly, your voice playful but with an edge of affection. "As long as he celebrates with me."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye. It wasn’t a secret, but the way you said it made it feel like one. There was something you hadn’t told Cisco, something that made your heart flutter just a little at the thought.

Cisco paused, his expression shifting as he tried to decipher your tone. He studied you closely, eyes narrowing in thought, before a slow grin crept across his face. "Oh ho ho, you’ve got plans for tonight, don’t you?" he teased, his voice turning smug as if he’d just solved a great mystery.

You didn’t answer him outright. Instead, you leaned back in your chair and hid your smile behind your mug of hot cocoa, pretending to take a casual sip. The warmth of the drink didn’t compare to the warmth in your chest, but it was enough to mask the blush creeping up your cheeks.

Cisco was grinning now, clearly satisfied with his discovery, but you weren’t about to confirm or deny anything. Yes, you had plans for tonight. You had something special in mind for Harry. Despite his usual distance and the quiet sadness that seemed to surround him during Christmas, you were determined to do something to lift his spirits.

It wasn’t until evening that you finally put your plan into action. The rest of the team had gone home, leaving Star Labs unusually quiet. The hum of machinery was absent, and in the dim, almost serene silence, the only light that remained came from a few twinkling strands of garland decorating the lab. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the metal surfaces and cast gentle shadows around the room, creating an atmosphere that felt peaceful and intimate.

You made your way through the building, your footsteps echoing softly on the cold floors. Eventually, you reached the lounge, where Harry was sitting. He was sprawled out on the leather couch, casually reading a book, his posture relaxed but his face, as always, a little distant. This room had only recently been rediscovered during one of your aimless walks around the lab, a part of the building that had been abandoned after the particle accelerator explosion. Caitlin had taken it upon herself to decorate the space for Christmas, stringing up some garland and placing a small tree in the corner. It wasn’t much, but it added a touch of warmth and cheer to the otherwise stark surroundings.

Harry had settled there because he enjoyed the peace, the quiet solitude away from the bustle of the main lab. As he continued reading, completely absorbed in his book, he didn’t notice you at first. But then, just as he turned a page, the soft sound of the door opening broke his concentration. Harry looked up from his book, his brow furrowing in mild surprise as he saw you standing in the doorway. He had expected you to be out celebrating Christmas with friends or family, not here, in Star Labs.

"Hey," you greeted, your voice warm yet cautious as you took a few steps closer to where he sat on the leather couch.

You were wearing a long, elegant coat, its soft fabric brushing against your legs as you walked, and a pair of heels that clicked with every step you took. Harry couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful you looked, your makeup perfectly applied, highlighting the softness of your features. He felt his chest tighten slightly, a feeling he couldn’t quite place stirring in him. 

You looked like you were about to head out for a night of celebration, and for a moment, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. He knew how much you loved Christmas—the decorations, the cheer, the joy that came with the season. It was something you always embraced with a kind of childlike wonder. He, on the other hand, couldn’t bring himself to feel the same way. The thought of being alone with his memories on Christmas made the idea of celebrating feel out of reach. But seeing you like this, with that look in your eyes, made him feel guilty. He wanted to be able to share in that joy with you, but he wasn’t sure how.

"Hey," Harry replied, his voice lower than usual, a bit rough from disuse. "Are you headed somewhere?" he asked, the question hanging between you, his curiosity genuine but tinged with a touch of hesitation.

You adjusted the collar of your coat, a small nervous gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by him. Your confidence seemed to waver, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was on your mind. It was a side of you he wasn’t accustomed to seeing.

For a moment, you stood there in silence, your gaze flicking between him and the dimly lit room, unsure of how to continue. You had imagined this moment, visualized it in your mind a dozen times, but now that you were here, standing in front of him, doubts crept in. What if he thought it was too much? What if he found your gesture foolish or out of place? What if he didn’t appreciate it?

You cleared your throat, the weight of the uncertainty pulling at your confidence. "Actually, no," you replied, your voice quiet, the words carrying more than just the answer to his question.

Harry tilted his head slightly, his curiosity growing. There was something in your voice, something unspoken, that made him set aside his book for a moment, fully turning his attention to you. He could sense that something was different tonight, that there was more to this moment than just a casual visit.

You bit your lip, taking another step forward. "I... I was hoping we could do something tonight," you said hesitantly, but there was a sparkle in your eyes now, a flicker of excitement that cut through your nerves. "Something a little... different."

Harry didn’t respond immediately. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable for a few long seconds. It was clear that he didn’t quite understand where this was going, but his attention was completely focused on you now, waiting for the rest of the story. You could feel the tension in the air, a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty, and for a moment, you almost wished you could take it all back. But it was too late to turn around now.

You swallowed, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. "I know Christmas isn’t your favorite holiday," you began, your voice soft but steady now. "But... I thought maybe we could just spend it together. Just the two of us."

The words felt different as they left your mouth, more intimate than you'd expected. It wasn’t just the offer that felt new, but the weight of what you were suggesting. You’d been together for months, sharing your lives, your thoughts, and your feelings. You wanted to make Christmas different for him.

Harry’s heart quickened, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him at your words. Despite his aversion to the holiday, despite all his reservations about the season, the idea of spending it with you felt... right. The fact that you wanted to be there, with him, made something inside him stir—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge, but something he couldn’t ignore. He had always kept his distance, not wanting to drag anyone into his shadow, but you had never treated him that way. You made him feel... seen.

You could feel his eyes on you, the quiet intensity of his gaze pulling you closer. The room was dim, save for the twinkling lights from the small Christmas tree in the corner. It was warm, but there was still a faint chill in the air, a reminder of the winter outside. You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers brushing the soft fabric of your coat. The anticipation of the moment was making you second-guess yourself, but you took a deep breath and forced yourself to speak.

"Okay," you said, your voice lowering slightly as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to steady your nerves. "I’ve planned a surprise. A gift, if you will." You gave him a playful glance, but there was a hint of something deeper in your eyes. "And please, don’t make fun of me. I just... I want to do something for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at your words, his lips curling into a small, intrigued smile. "A gift?" he repeated, his voice rougher than usual. He could feel the shift in the air, the tension between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

You smiled, a little more confident now that he hadn’t immediately dismissed you. His curiosity was a good sign. Slowly, you took a step closer, closing the distance between you both. Standing in front of him, you let the moment linger, your heart beating faster as you met his gaze, feeling the heat of his eyes on you.

You moved even closer, standing between his legs, your body only inches from his. The space between you seemed to shrink as you let your fingers play with the waistband of your coat. His eyes dropped to your hands, then slowly traveled upward, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Do you want to unwrap it?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, laced with an unexpected flirtation. 

Harry’s pulse quickened. There was a sense of intrigue building within him, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. He only knew that whatever it was, he was eager to find out. His fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the belt of your coat, pulling it slowly, deliberately. His gaze remained locked on yours, a silent question in his eyes, and you could see the mix of anticipation and uncertainty flicker behind the desire that was evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

As he loosened the belt, the fabric of the coat parted, revealing just a hint of your skin and the deep red hue that teased at what lay beneath. Harry’s breath hitched. His heart raced faster, and it felt like the world had stopped moving, leaving only the two of you in the quiet stillness of the room. His fingers traced the edges of the coat, pulling it open further, the anticipation building between you.

And then, he saw it.

The coat slipped from your shoulders, revealing what you had chosen to wear just for him—a gift more captivating than anything wrapped in paper. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you in the red body, the corset-like top hugging your form perfectly. The fabric clung to your curves, accentuating your figure in a way that left him breathless. The top was strapless, molded to your body, and supported by the natural curve of your chest, leaving little to the imagination. His eyes traced the intricate design of the outfit, the delicate lace and subtle details that sent a rush of heat through his veins.

You wore thigh-high stockings that reached up to your thighs, held up by the matching garters that added an air of elegance and seduction. The entire outfit was a striking mix of sultriness and festive cheer, with touches of white feathers around the edges that resembled a delicate, luxurious version of holiday fur. The color of the red seemed to shimmer as it caught the light, and in that moment, Harry thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you standing before him, a vision of sensuality and elegance, and yet, somehow, still a perfect fit for the holiday spirit. He couldn’t help the way his heart pounded, the ache of desire growing in the pit of his stomach.

You were breathtaking, utterly impossible to ignore. As the reality of what you were offering him sank in, Harry felt a tightness in his chest, a fluttering, heat spreading across him like a wave. Every inch of you, every detail of the way you stood there, was overwhelming in the best possible way. The desire was undeniable, but so was the love that ran deep between the two of you. You weren’t just standing before him as a vision of sensuality; you were offering him the purest form of trust, of intimacy, and it made his heart race even faster.

"You look... incredible," Harry managed, his voice rough, almost hoarse, as the words tumbled out. It felt like an understatement, like no combination of words could ever do justice to how he felt in that moment. But it was all he could say.

There was a long, delicious moment of silence as he took you in, his eyes tracing the curves of your body, the way your outfit clung to you so perfectly, the way the feathers brushed against your skin. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest tight with the overwhelming sensation of wanting you, needing you. 

With a tenderness that was almost too much for him to handle, you reached up and gently ran your fingers through his hair. The touch was soft but electric, sending a shiver down his spine. And then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you began to sing. "Santa Baby..." Your voice was soft, playful, laced with a flirtation that only made the air between you two thicker with desire. The surprise in Harry’s eyes softened into a smile.

"Just slip a sable under the tree for me," you continued, your voice light and teasing, the song dripping with seductive charm. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine.

You let your coat fall to the ground, revealing yourself fully to him. The action was undeniably sexy, but what struck Harry wasn’t just the sight of your body—gorgeous, alluring, every inch of you crafted to perfection—but the love that seemed to radiate from every movement you made. It wasn’t just a performance or a game; this was a true offering of yourself to him, a piece of your heart wrapped up in the moment.

"Been an awful good girl..." you continued to sing, your voice teasing and light, carrying a playful lilt.

With a subtle, confident movement, you swung one knee across his hip, then the other, gently straddling his lap, settling yourself atop him on the couch.

As you positioned yourself, your body close enough to feel the heat radiating between the two of you, Harry’s breath caught in his throat. The sight of you so bold, so sure, made his pulse quicken, and he couldn’t help but admire the way you moved—effortless, confident, yet with a hint of sweetness that was unmistakably you. Your skin was so close to his, the soft fabric of your outfit grazing against his shirt, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch out. 

"Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight..." You sang softly, your voice trailing off as you felt his gaze on you. But before you could finish, Harry’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you toward him. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, one that stole your breath away. Without breaking the kiss, he gently fell back against the couch, pulling you down with him, his body warm and strong beneath yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as if he were the very air you needed to breathe. His low groan resonated in your chest, the shock of the gift you'd given him still fresh on his lips. Without thinking, your hips moved against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm, and you felt the unmistakable bulge of his desire pressing into you, the physical proof of how deeply you affected him.

Harry’s hands roamed over your body, caressing every curve before settling firmly on your ass, pulling you flush against him with a low, appreciative groan. You gasped, the sensation sending a wave of heat through you. Without warning, he flipped your positions, gently but decisively lowering you onto the couch beneath him.

For a brief moment, he simply watched you, his gaze intense as he hovered above you. His eyes traced every detail of your form—the way your hair framed your face like a halo, the flushed redness of your lips from his kiss, and the way your clothes clung to you, revealing just enough to leave little to the imagination.

“You’re the perfect gift,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his words barely a whisper as they brushed against your skin.

“Merry Christmas, Harry, darling,” you whispered back, your heart racing as the moment stretched out between you.

With a gentle shift, he lowered himself back down to you, his lips reclaiming yours in a kiss that was both tender and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Harry’s hands slid beneath your garter belt, his touch deliberate as they trailed upward, seeking the place where you ached for him most. A sharp gasp of desire escaped your lips, your body responding instinctively. Your hands fell to his belt, trembling with urgency as you worked to unbuckle it. You quickly undid the button and zipper, sliding both his trousers and boxers down in one swift motion.

He was already hard, his arousal undeniable, and he shivered as your fingers brushed over him, igniting a spark between you. His lips found the curve of your neck, pressing heated kisses along your skin that sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, his hands moved to your back, his fingers deftly locating the zipper of your bodysuit. With effortless precision, he slid it down, his gaze dark with longing as he revealed more of your skin.

In mere seconds, the fabric pooled away, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, your bodies separated only by the crackling tension in the air.

Harry didn’t waste a second, his hand finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of heat coursing through you. His fingers slid between your folds, discovering just how wet and ready you were for him. A low moan escaped your lips as you arched your back, your body instinctively pressing closer to his touch. You were already breathless, writhing beneath him, the need for him growing unbearable.

“Stop teasing me,” you murmured, your voice thick with desperation.

“Teasing?” he repeated, his tone mockingly innocent, though the wicked smile on his lips betrayed him. “You’re the one who put on this outfit,” he teased, his fingers quickening their rhythm between your thighs, driving you higher.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you shot back, biting down on your lip—not only to taunt him but to keep your moans from spilling out, though the pleasure was quickly becoming impossible to contain.

In response to your insolence, he slid a finger into you without warning, his movements firm and deliberate. The sudden sensation stole your breath, leaving you gasping as a moan replaced any attempt at protest. His finger moved with purpose, thrusting in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, teasing you, coaxing your body to respond. Your hips bucked instinctively, arching toward him as if your body had a will of its own, silently pleading for more.

“Harry, baby,” you whimpered, your voice breaking. “I need you. Now.”

Your desperate words sent a spark through him, and a feral growl escaped his throat. He pulled back, sitting on his heels as he loomed over you, his dark eyes searing into yours. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing matching your own ragged rhythm. Slowly, almost torturously, he brought his hand to his throbbing length, wrapping his fingers around himself.

He stroked once, twice, his movements deliberate, his gaze never leaving your face. He watched your lips part as you swallowed hard, your chest heaving as the space between you seemed to pulse with electricity. The sight of you—flushed, needy, and utterly at his mercy—only fueled his resolve.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Instead of waiting for a response, he shifted closer, aligning himself with your entrance. He teased you at first, the head of his length brushing against your slick folds, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“Harry, please,” you breathed, your voice cracking with need.

With a smirk that was equal parts wicked and affectionate, he leaned forward, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispered, “Patience, love. I want to savor my Christmas gift.”

Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, stretching and filling you inch by inch. The sensation stole the air from your lungs, leaving you clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he claimed you completely.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead dropping to yours as you both caught your breath. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your lips, before beginning to move, setting a pace that made your entire world melt away.

With slow, deliberate thrusts, Harry moved inside you, each motion powerful and intentional, claiming every part of you. Over and over, his hips met yours, the impact sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body. Your moans filled the air, unrestrained and raw, as his hands tangled in your hair, lifting your face to his. His eyes searched yours, dark with desire but softened by something even deeper.

He wanted to see everything—the way your face contorted with bliss, the way you surrendered completely to him, trusting him with your body and heart. But more than that, he wanted to take in the woman who had changed his life. The woman who saw through his walls, who loved him for all he was, even the parts of himself he struggled to accept. The woman who had gone to such great lengths to make sure he felt cherished and loved tonight, on Christmas—a holiday he had long since given up on.

A wave of emotion surged through him, crashing against the raw pleasure you gave him. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and he couldn’t hold back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, more urgent. The couch creaked beneath you as your body moved with his, bouncing with every powerful motion. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him as he drove you higher, each thrust fanning the flames of your desire.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick and uneven. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck, trailing kisses and gentle bites along your skin. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, adding to the heat coursing through your veins.

“Harry,” you gasped, your voice trembling, barely able to form words between breaths. “I love you.”

His movements faltered for a split second, your words hitting him with more force than he expected. He raised his head, his eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with an intensity that matched the rhythm of his hips as he began to move again. “More than anything.”

He shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to hit deeper, each one pushing you closer to the edge. His hand slid down your body, finding your clit once more, his fingers working in time with his movements. The dual sensations sent you spiraling, your body trembling as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Every moan, every gasp, every whispered word between you brought him closer as well.

He shifted his angle once more, and everything seemed to blur. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself spiraling into a haze of pure pleasure. Your body arched in response, every nerve on fire as he hit a spot that sent shockwaves through you. Your orgasm took you completely by surprise—suddenly, you were lost in it, and a loud cry of unfiltered pleasure escaped your lips.

You tightened around him, your muscles clenching involuntarily, as if trying to hold him even closer. Your back arched more, your head falling back, giving him an unobstructed view of your exposed throat, vulnerable to him in this moment.

Harry’s gaze burned with an intensity that matched the fervor of his movements. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss. As you felt your muscles fluttering around him, gripping him tightly, his own release came crashing down on him. His groan was low, guttural, as he surrendered to the pleasure.

His body tensed above you, and you could feel the heat of him inside, filling you completely. He bit into your neck, marking you with the intensity of his passion, his fingers digging into your skin as he sought to hold you, keep you close. You were both lost in the moment, each thrust, each kiss, each touch sending waves of ecstasy through you both.

As your orgasms started to fade, Harry lay on top of you, his head resting against your chest as he tried to catch his breath. You ran your fingers through his messy, sweaty hair, gently stroking his head with affection.

A comfortable silence settled between you two. After a moment, he lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re the best Christmas gift I could have ever asked for,” he murmured.

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked, smiling softly.

He tried to hold back a laugh. It would be crazy not to enjoy what just happened. “Definitely.”

He sat up, pulling his boxers and pants back into place. “I’ll get some towels and find something for you to wear. I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, you heard him humming “Santa Baby.”

You smiled, curling your legs up to your chest, biting your lower lip. This had been one of the best Christmases you’d ever had.

Main Taglist : @gabriella-aesthetic

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Sadness, realizations.

Word Count: 633

Previously On...: A phone call in the middle of the night sends Bucky to Jade's side at the med bay to help her through a "panic attack," which you're sure she's faking. You warn Bucky that if he keeps going to her, you might not be willing to take him back.

A/N: I didn't realize some of these parts were so short. They were difficult to write, so they took a lot of time, and therefore seemed longer. I feel like I'm drawing out the inevitable, and I probably am. I'm sorry!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

When you woke up a few hours later, Bucky wasn’t back. You checked your phone. It was well past the time you’d planned on leaving to go Upstate, not that you were surprised. He’d text you, apologizing, telling you that Jade was too emotionally distraught to be left alone for the time being, but he promised to be back soon, and you’d still make your trip. You knew the promise was hollow. You didn’t believe he was sleeping with her, not really, but the situation was becoming untenable. You’d always said you would never try to control who he could or couldn’t be friends with, but you began to wonder if it was time for an ultimatum. The idea of imposing one sat poorly with you; it wasn’t the kind of girlfriend you wanted to be, but you felt he was leaving you no choice anymore. Every boundary you had asked him to keep with her, she’d somehow find a way to push him past. 

He wasn’t blameless in the situation, you knew that. You knew he loved you, wanted to be with you, but how many chances could you give him to put you first, only to have him fail you? He wasn’t doing it on purpose; he was a genuinely good person who saw someone who had suffered as he had, and who wanted to provide support in a way that had been denied to him, but he was doing it at the expense of your relationship, your heart, your fucking sanity. He was taking you for granted, assuming that you’d always forgive him. And why wouldn’t he? You’d done it each and every time before.

You got up and got dressed, trying to find a use for your time so that you weren’t incessantly staring at the clock, waiting for Bucky to finally decide to make time for you. You suddenly remembered the request that Sam had made of you the night before– that you check the Tower’s systems to see if Jade had attempted to access anything that might set up red flags. 

Grabbing your laptop, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a bagel and glass of juice before curling up on a chaise lounge in the common room and began working. It was going to be a time consuming task; the Tower’s systems were massive, but you’d built a good portion of them yourself, so it was a lot like wandering the forest in your own backyard. 

Hours later, you were rubbing your eyes, regretting that you had left your glasses in your room. The sun was low in the sky, hovering just above the city skyline. Standing up to stretch, you cracked your neck and lower back before shooting off a text to Sam.

>>Just ran a check of the Tower systems for Jade’s footprint.

Ole Sammy: And???? Don’t leave me hangin in suspense, Baby Girl!

>> And, nothing screaming ENEMY AGENT. 

>> She accessed Bucky’s unlocked files.

>> Like, a lot.

Ole Sammy: Creepy, but not surprising.

>> No, considering she’s fucking obsessed with him.

Ole Sammy: Unless…

>> Unless what, Samuel?

Ole Sammy: Nothing. Just a thought. Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it.

>> Stop being cryptic. Tell me.

Ole Sammy: Not unless I have proof to back it up. I don’t want to make accusations without evidence. Bitch’s scary AF. Besides, she could kick my ass.

>> Pretty sure I could kick your ass.

Ole Sammy: Only if I didn’t have my wings!

>> Not the flex you think it is.

Ole Sammy: How’s Upstate?

>> Wouldn’t know. Jade had a ‘panic attack’ in the night and has needed Bucky by her side ever since.

Ole Sammy: That dumb ass mother fucker! How much longer you gonna put up with this shit, Baby Girl?

>> I’ll talk to you later, Sam.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

One with Emily Prentiss I BEG.

Maybe one where Emily is a mission and keeps making promises to come home in time for Christmas. But on Christmas Eve r loses hope completely and just goes to bed crying because she really misses Emily and then in the morning Em has a much of gifts that she’s setting up in the living room, there’s breakfast and everything. maybe a quote like, “I promised I’d come home in time, didn’t I?”

idk this is my first time requesting

Love’s Silent Night

(Not my gif)

Emily Prentiss x fem!wife!reader

WARNING: 18+ MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, slight angst, happy ending

Y/n sat in the living room watching the same christmas special for what seemed like the 50th time. Truly, all that she wanted to do is start a fire and curl up next to her wife and watch some christmas movies. But of course, work calls.

———————————————

“Em! Please! It’s literally almost Christmas and you’re leaving for another case?” Y/n exclaimed, crossing her arms clearly distraught, “I know, baby, I know. But-“

“-Duty calls, Yeah, I know, Em. Every year.”

Emily smiles sadly, knowing every year they had spent Christmas apart because of work. And it affected both of them, but this year it was different. The house felt emptier, the blankets seemed colder, and the bed didn’t seem as cozy. It was safe to say that this year wasn’t the best in terms of marriage and staying functional. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, love” Emily said, her face genuine, “And when will that be? January? Last year you came home in the middle of March. Not a single word from you for months..”

Emily’s face suddenly fell. She knew that it hurt y/n every year when this would happen. She also knew that their marriage suffered because of it. “I’ll be home for Christmas, that’s a promise.”

———————————————

Y/n checks the clock. It reads 9:53 as she still lays motionless on the plush couch. It was Christmas Eve, maybe y/n had gotten her hopes up too much. Every year this would happen, so why would this one be any different?

Lugging herself off of the couch she mindlessly threw herself into bed. The bright Christmas lights peaked through the window. It was sad, honestly. It really was. Y/n’s friends pitied her, ‘What’s the point of having a wife if she can’t even be home with you for a day?’

Y/n would brush them off, saying that Emily is trying her best. Which, sometimes Emily didn’t even know if that was true.

Taking a glance at her phone it lit up with a message, Y/n hopefully picks it up and reads it. Sadly, it was from JJ instead of Emily. The case is taking longer than expected! Sorry, n/n! See you soon?

Y/n smiled bitterly, of course, this would happen. She felt the last trace of hope leave her and her tears began to sting. There was that heaviness in her chest and her bed grew colder. In all honesty, y/n didn’t care about Emily coming home for Christmas. She just wanted her home, the sound of blowing wind lulled her to sleep. Letting the cold winter night consume her.

Soon enough, the smell of…hot chocolate? It had lingered in the air, y/n was she sure that she hadn’t made any. It also smelt of pancakes and…Emily’s perfume…

Leaping out of bed, the sleepiness leaving her, the faint sound of Christmas Jazz playing, y/n sprinted down the stairs with a hopeful feeling in her chest and her smile stretching from ear to ear. As she turned to look in the living room, she heard a familiar giggle. “Looking for me, love?” Emily smiled, teasingly holding up a mistletoe, her Santa hat had perfectly matched her plaid pjs and black sweatshirt. Y/n didn’t waste any time to dive straight into Emily’s arms and into a warm and longing kiss.

“I said I’ll be home for Christmas didn’t I?” Emily smirked, y/n rolled her eyes, “I’m just happy you’re home…safe”

[cantareincminor]

For the Sake of Appearances

It's obvious that Eden Academy is a superficial place, despite the efforts of Henderson and other teachers to uphold its educational mission. Like any elite institution, most of its students hail from rich families and don't actually need a degree from Eden to be more than comfortable in life. Most of them are there acting as proxies for their parents, to accumulate even more wealth and power, often by schmoozing with people higher up on the chain like the Desmonds.

Twilight of course is aware of the dynamics and rules of the game at Eden and is playing to win. He crafts an upper middle class cover that will fit in decently without being rich or powerful himself. He looks for a smart child. He looks for a wife. Because apparently only children with two parents can get into the school.

Throughout the whole story so far he has been concerned about his family's image, both so his cover won't be blown, and so that Anya will advance Plan A or Plan B. He is sensitive to Anya acting out of turn, like punching Damian, or falling behind academically and having no talents with which to gain extracurricular Stellas.

Back when the Imperial Scholars Mixer chapters came out (before I joined the fandom), I'm sure there was a lot of discussion about the moment Anya made her speech to Damian and said this:

The sadness around Anya not knowing whether her adoptive father even likes her dominates this chapter, at least for me. But on a second read I thought about Twilight's perspective here.

For someone who has been so worried about appearances -- making sure his family can at least pretend at cultured tastes and manners, somehow pushing Anya to get good grades or preventing her from failing (by breaking into the records room), and ensuring his own image is immaculate -- one might expect that Twilight would also worry about appearances here. His daughter just admitted to his chief target's son that she doesn't know if her father loves her. Is that not breaking the facade of a loving nuclear family, which he needed to project at the Eden admissions interview?

But, sadly, having a loving family isn't actually a requirement among the many appearances people have to keep up in the Eden crowd. Damian himself is exhibit A on that front. Both his parents hardly ever bother to visit him or talk to him, and as we see in Chapter 104, it's made him avoid going home except when none of his family members are there. From a utilitarian perspective, it may be good that Anya said this to Damian, so she could appear empathetic to his situation.

What is really interesting is that we don't get any of Twilight's inner thoughts about Anya's speech, probably because he's so focused on Donovan's arrival. All we see is an "Anya..." which could be Endo hiding any further insights on Twilight from the audience, or Twilight genuinely not knowing what to think, or Twilight turning off his over-analyzing tendencies for once and even forgetting to worry about appearances, because his daughter really got to him with that speech. If the latter is true, it might explain his behavior during the cruise arc where he tries so hard to please Anya, with the whole "I'm a normal father. A good father," piece. Bit by bit, he starts to care about more than just appearances or outcomes, and shows through his actions that he wants Anya to be happy. He doesn't tell himself that her happiness is for the cover or for the mission as often as before.

I really do hope that in some future chapter we get a callback to this scene in Chapter 37 where Anya was uncertain whether her father likes her. After 103, where we even got a brief flashback to their first day out as a family overlooking the shopping street, I feel a bit more hope that at some point Twilight will give Anya the reassurance she needs directly or indirectly.

Or maybe, Anya has already figured it out, from all the things he's done for her and how his behavior has changed gradually since that day in the courtyard.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 13: TEGAMI

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Your mouth is a thin line that he wants to kiss. He knows better, though. The distance he’s standing away from you is a demonstration in patience itself.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , masturbation, implication of bdsm, angst... AND fluff <3

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: soooooo sorry for how long it's been here's a love letter about satoru being a sad down bad pathetic wet kitten for you. disgusting

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2011

Satoru doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s pathetic, really.

He realizes that even when you were just a ghost in his house, helping your mother with her duties, you were still there. Ever-present, always available for him to play with when you were kids, to stare at as a teenager. Even when he decided he’d ignore you, you were still there. Always. It was what he was used to. It was what made him believe that you always belonged to him.

He hates being wrong.

It had been two months since he’d last seen you, and to say that he was in agony was a fucking understatement. 

Shoko would never hear the end of it. Satoru knew that he was beyond annoying, always has been, but lately, Shoko’s patience was a frayed thread. 

“She needs to be her own person, you leech,” she’d snapped at him the day before.

The amount of gin and tonics she had couldn’t even cover the amount of hours she had to tolerate Satoru, who wasn’t even being an emotional drunk at the moment. That, she could deal with – he was a lightweight after all. He’d probably knock out eventually. But no, he was this annoyingly lovesick while sober.

“She is her own person! She can be her own person next to me!” he whined. 

“You know what I mean, idiot. She couldn’t do anything without you glued to her leg. The space is probably good for her.”

“Well, it’s miserable for me,” he muttered under his breath. 

Bribing Shoko with alcohol wasn’t nearly enough for her to continue listening to his woes. There were times she thought about relaying the information to you, suggesting that you’d throw Satoru a bone just so he could stop being so fucking whiny about you, but she knew both of you better than that. She dropped some hints but was mostly met with an eye-roll, which… was fair. It was about time the strongest got over himself.

He knows he’s obsessive. He can’t help it when it comes to you.

It wasn’t like you fucking died – yet there he was, stewing in his own grief. He’d go on his missions and exorcise curses with the intention of bloodshed. Beyond grief, he often only felt rage, and it was the only thing that felt close to good. 

The only thing as violent to him as love was rage. When love was tumultuous, it shook his world, felt indescribably pivotal in the context of his life. It was pathetic, the way he felt about you. 

The missions weren’t enough.

He’d tried everything — smoking cigarettes (he hated the taste), smoking other things (his brain would be fucked and so would his cursed technique), and drinking (Shoko had to cut him off one too many cocktails far too many times). 

Fucking other girls didn’t work. They would irritate him to hell, smelling much too sweet, being way too loud in a way that would grate his ears. It’s not like anyone else could touch him the same way you could, either. God, he hated it when they would try to take control and put their hands where they shouldn’t. Manicured hands grabbing at him that felt foreign. 

He couldn’t tolerate it. It was always better when he could shove them into the pillow, pretending their muffled moans were yours. He could think of you in enough detail to cum.

Satoru had already heard through the grapevine that you were fucking that Zenin brat. He remembered having to deal with Naoya at clan meetings when he was younger — perhaps it was ingrained in his birth that Zenins were his natural enemies. Either that or the fucker was genuinely that annoying. Probably both.

Every time he thought about it for too long, he wanted to punch something. The only reason he didn’t bother to warn you because you were already deep in it, the naive little girl you were. You were too stubborn for your own good, always. There was no use. 

He should probably just kidnap you. Handcuff you to his damn bed, even if you’d hate it. 

But he won’t. Not any time soon, hopefully, if he can control himself. You’ve successfully ignored his texts (maybe you blocked his number?) and definitely threw out the bouquets he’d send (he watched you do it the first time and it took everything in him to not confront you right then and there).

He doesn’t know what to do, truly. So for now, he lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about your eyes. The image of them finds him anyway, along with your nose, your mouth, your—

Fuck. He shouldn’t.

Yaga would absolutely give him shit if he was late for the meeting, but he doesn’t care. He’s already half-hard in his trousers and he’s only thought about you for less than two minutes. It’s about time he’s had a cathartic release — he’s been dreaming about your hot, panting body underneath him for weeks.

He spits in his mouth while his other hand frees himself from his pants. He groans when he palms himself, imagining your delicate hands, your eager eyes. After all these years, you would still look at him with a certain innocence as you’d palm him, your mouth watered. He missed it desperately.

Do you still think about him, now? He had been your first, your only for so long. He had to be at the forefront of your mind when you touched yourself, when your cunt got wet at all. Right? 

Maybe you’d even thought about him back in high school. Satoru likes to imagine this, that ever since you were child, you had a little schoolgirl crush on him. He tries not to think about how it’s the other way around, that his desire for you had been there since he’d known you. 

He misses the shape of your mouth when you gasp his name. He can almost hear it now as he strokes himself, his groans mixing with the wet sounds of his cock rubbing against his palm. 

You’d always been a little shy about being loud, ever since your first time. He remembers it so vividly. 

S’good. Feels good. Come kiss me.

His mind wanders to the image of Suguru’s hands on you. Suguru’s cock deep in your pussy as his own cock rutted into your mouth. He groans at the faint memories. He hates that he can only chase them like a distant mirage. 

The warmth that pools in his stomach threatens to rise and choke him. He feels feverish everywhere as his hand moves faster. He’s so fucking close — he thinks about himself ramming into you. You whining as you clench around him. Your hands all over him.

He grunts your name as he cums. Satoru rolls his eyes back as he spurts, covered in himself. When he comes down from his high, he gasps a few short breaths as he stares at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Body flooded with ecstasy, then shame. Enough shame for his insides to twist uncomfortably, as if he feels the need to go to confession for the mere act of what he did.

The warmth in his body only lasts for so long.

June, 2011

The handprint on your thigh stings. You’re used to rough treatment, could argue that you might even like it. You’re not, however, used to being degraded. 

You’ve always liked the feeling of being wrung out. Satoru and Suguru had liked you pliable, a vessel for them to turn inside out. Soft insides. Soft enough to bruise. 

You should’ve known that when you started living alone for the first time, some men would take advantage of that. You didn’t realize that you could meet a man that was even more demanding and childish than Satoru. 

“You have too many clothes on,” Naoya mutters, pawing at the strap of your bra. You had taken the day off because of the heatwave. Kyoto was rising to ungodly temperatures, and you were hoping to spend the day lying on the floor in front of the fan. Of course, the fucker had other plans.

He was much more charming after the many encounters you’d had at the bar. Now, it was embarrassing to be with him. You weren’t exactly with him, though Naoya thought you owed him a few crumbs after the occasional dinner date. The sex fulfilled the deepseated desire you had for more pleasurable times, but to think about those times would only make the void inside of your chest ache. It was ultimately better to be used up, distracted.

“I should make you a fucking clan princess,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear. You’re only half-conscious during your second round. Your attempts at redressing were not met kindly. 

He laughs when you whimper. Knows how much you hate it when he talks like that, how it probably reminds you of the Gojo brat. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m going to be the head after all.”

He’s all talk. Maybe he means it, maybe he doesn’t. You don’t care either way. At this point, you’re just using his dick to get off. The violence is a little cathartic. You’d forgotten what tenderness felt like and refused to turn back, as if to punish yourself.

Naoya was always quick to mount you, making your thighs feel whipped. Flesh all lashed from his grabby hands. He was a little drunk tonight, which made it all more annoying.

Luckily, he comes fast because of it. 

“You’d make a good wife,” he says as he lights up in your bed, billowing smoke in the direction of the fan. 

“Shut up.”

“I mean it. Sweet girl,” he grins, lip curling. “I’ll be a good head, too. You can be my right arm.”

You look at him, half-amused, half-pissed. “I’m good.”

“I know,” he scoffs. “Everyone in my clan’s an old fucking fart. You’d probably be into my cousin, to be honest, if he didn’t fuck off like a runaway.”

You pause. “Why’d he run off?”

“Dunno. No one’s heard from him in a while. Maybe he’s finally dead from trying to kill sorcerers. Toji was basically useless without a technique anyway.”

You freeze at the name. You think of getting pistolwhipped, of a mouth scar. Zenin Toji?

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, fiddling with the buttons of the blouse you’re putting back on. “I don’t blame him for running off.”

July, 2011

You’ve always loved the myth of Tanabata. It was a story your mother loved to tell.

Star-crosssed lovers separated by the Milky Way, only bound to meet once a year. It reminds you of someone when it shouldn’t. You shouldn’t yearn for his presence. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him. 

You’ve moved on. Maybe.

You’re lost in thought about the myth when you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. When you look up, you see Utahime leaning on the door of the greenhouse, watching you cut saplings and fill egg cartons with dirt. 

“You’re not going to be cooped up in here for the whole festival, are you?” 

“Hm?” You look up to see her smirking at you with her arms crossed. 

“Gakuganji gave us the day off. You know that, right? For Tanabata?” she raises a brow.

“I know that,” you huff. “I’m just… catching up on stuff.”

“You’re finding excuses to not leave campus. Shoko’s visiting.”

Your ears perk up at that. You hadn’t seen Shoko in months. Admittedly, you didn’t often pick up the phone, let alone text back. You tried not to be on your phone too much at all, otherwise you’d look through old photos and messages that you had no business reminiscing about. It would be nice to see her. 

“When is she getting in?” you ask.

“In about two hours. Get your kimono on and meet us at the school entrance? We’re gonna go write wishes at Kiyomizu-dera.”

You nod in agreement. It would be nice to go out. You consider the barren state of your room, the empty bottles of plum wine under your bed collecting dust and spiders. Anything was better than holing yourself up there, especially on a holiday like this. You’d always enjoyed watching the fireworks, at least. 

Your heart feels a little lighter when you get to hug Shoko later that night. She’s wearing a pink kimono with a floral pattern, something more feminine than you expected. You almost don’t recognize her without a cigarette in her mouth and lab coat draped over her shoulders. When she’s with Utahime, her face is brighter. You’re almost envious.

“Wish for anything special, baby?” she taps your cheek, feeding you a skewer from her yakitori.

You think of your messy handwriting scrawled onto a red tanzaku. You imagine one miles long enough to fit a whole letter. Maybe you should start journaling.

“That’s a secret, isn’t it?”

She grins knowingly. “I missed you. I didn’t just come here for Hime, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I begged her to come for you, too,” Utahime quips, fixing her braids. 

“You did not beg,” Shoko scoffs. “You know I’d never miss an opportunity to see my girls.”

You feel too warm in your kimono. Part of it is the heat, part of it is that Shoko was rather reliable in getting you a fix, meaning that you were immediately treated to a round at an izakaya before heading out to the festival. While the buzz through your skin doesn’t exactly translate to comfort, it’s enough for you to wade your way through the crowd without a care to get yourself some takoyaki. 

You freeze when a warm hand touches your shoulder. You’re stopped by him before you can even round the corner.

His hair’s a mess, white tufts spiked up in haphazard peaks as if he’d just woken up. The black sunglasses make him look out of place, so does his entire aura. Satoru was always a lean giant, legs going on for miles with a grin like a cowboy. Normally, you’d fall victim to it. Right now, you’re mostly in shock.

“I could’ve paid for that, angel,” he coos.

Your stomach flips. Satoru was very good at having horrible timing. Maybe it was the universe itself taunting you, but the Six Eyes has always been more calculated than that. He must’ve planned on seeing you.

You swallow back the taste of something acrid crawling up your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Before he can respond, the girls had already caught up to you, staring in disbelief in a distance. When you glance back at them, Shoko mouths an apology before pulling at Utahime’s arm and ushering her away.

“Why did you—”

“I didn’t come with Shoko,” Satoru interjects. He shifts uncomfortably like a teenager telling a lie. “Most of the Gojo clan is in Kyoto, remember? My, uh, parents wanted to come for the festival.”

Your mouth is a thin line that he wants to kiss. He knows better, though. The distance he’s standing away from you is a demonstration in patience itself. 

He doesn’t have to tell you that he’d arrived the day before, stalking the Kyoto campus just to see what you were up to. He chalked it up to boredom, the same as checking up on an ex-fling on social media, if hovering around the greenhouse for hours was considered casual.

“It’s good to see you,” you say. You tell yourself it’s a lie, just a filler for politeness. You know that you’ve been aching for him since he had kissed you in the winter.

His heart flutters in his chest, begging to burst, but he doesn’t show it. 

“It’s good to see you, too.”

You smile at him awkwardly as you play with the fabric of your kimono. You clear your throat. 

“Have you seen Shoko or Uta yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His voice is wary, like he’s walking on eggshells with you. He searches your face for any emotion beyond indifference. The slight smile on your features is mild, and he’s sure you’re only putting it on for him.

Satoru is sure you’re begging for a way out. Truthfully, he wants to steal you away, take you to the shore so he can pin your body down to the ground, feel the softness of your skin. He’s had too many wet dreams about it that it almost feels like a prophecy in his head. 

So he lets you lead him to Shoko and Utahime, who both smile politely but maintain a visible proximity to you. He doesn’t blame them.

He should be tired. He almost rejected the offer from his mother to go on “vacation” for Tanabata since he’d come back from a three-day long mission — Yaga had attempted to arrange a sort of mentorship between Satoru and some new first-years. It was mostly a bust considering a special grade had emerged after the initial grade twos. Satoru was forced to hold his weight, of course, so he came back exhausted, too tired to go away.

When his mother mentioned that they’d meet with the clan members from the Kyoto quarters, he was suddenly eager to go.

Now you are here in front of him and his heart feels like it’s going out of his ass. You look beautiful as ever. He notices how much you’ve grown, staring at you with reverence. It’s not like you look so different than the last time he saw you, but it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. In something more formal. 

You’d only wear kimonos on holidays. He remembers watching your mother sweep up your hair with little sticks, jade charms hanging from your ears. He couldn’t be around you then, back when you were kids. Not when he was stupid and hormonal and trying to get over you in high school. His chest hurts in the same way as it did back then. 

You share your takoyaki with him as you walk to a quieter part of the festival. There’s a garden by the large festival grounds, hydrangeas blooming and kissing the archway of a gate. They’ve been everywhere you see in Kyoto since the rainy season ended. 

Satoru clears his throat. You raise a brow at him. 

“What?”

He stares at you, his mind blank. You don’t look like you’ve missed him. You don’t look at him the same way you used to, with that certain tenderness that he always liked. He almost reaches for you.

“You look…”

“Hm?

He swallows hard before continuing. “Beautiful. You, uh, look beautiful. That’s all,” he mutters. 

“Thanks. You look good, too, Gojo.”

Gojo. When was the last time you called him by his last name? Not since you were in his estate, sweeping his damn floor. It stings more than any disparaged look you could give him. At least when you’re a little cold to him, he feels the need to rile you up. He’s always liked to challenge you that way. 

You not even using his first name is a harder blow than anything else.

“Oh, wow,” he chuckles meekly. “Big downgrade, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You called me, uh–” He coughs nervously. “Just– nevermind.”

Your stomach twists with guilt. He looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I missed you,” he blurts out. The distance between you two is driving him insane. 

“Uh, I know. Shoko told me.”

“You smell like cigarettes.”

“Yeah?”

His palms feel sweaty. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, can only list stupid facts like that’s a fucking conversation. You’re smoking too much. You look beautiful. I’ve been dying for months because I haven’t been able to kiss you.

“And… amber. You still wear that perfume I got you?”

You sigh. “Yes, I do.”

His eyes brighten so quickly it’s almost pathetic. He blinks at you wetly like a child, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms and bury his face into your neck. To inhale you. 

His skin itches. 

“Sorry for being weird.”

“You are being weird.”

You didn’t anticipate seeing him. Hell, you never do, even when you were together and sleeping in the same bed as him. His presence was like a lightning strike, unbearable to look away from, beaming with so much light that it hurt your eyes.

You almost feel ashamed when your stomach flips at the intense eye contact.

Satoru is at a loss for one of the first times in his life. He doesn’t know what to say. Wants to say it with his hands instead, his mouth. He shouldn’t. He bites the inside of his cheek, softly grimacing at the way you’re speaking to him — it’s so unlike how you used to be. Quiet and warm and soft. 

He huffs. “Yeah, well. S’your fault.”

You roll your eyes. His lips twitch into a smirk. Finally, a reaction from you. He’d like to make you react more, push your buttons. At least then you’d give him attention. 

“Do you even care that I missed you?” he complains, pouting.

You smile lightly at that. “You always miss me. Even when you saw me every day, you missed me.”

Fuck. 

He really, really wants to touch you. His face heats up slightly, his hands twitching again. Aching to feel your skin.

“Yeah,” he says without shame. “Because I always want you.” 

He continues to stare at you. You know he’s being genuine, but the way he’s always been so candid with his feelings felt like he was taunting you. It’s always been a bit of a game for him, seeing how far he can go before you break. But he knows you’ve always seen through him. You were the only one who could, besides —

"I’m not used to not having you around,” he confesses. 

“I’ve lived in Kyoto for like a year. You survived, no?”

The look he gives you is mildly offended before he snorts. It’s a stupid thing for you to say. He’s not a child. He can survive just fine without needing you around. It doesn’t matter that you would take care of him after missions before, that you’d take care of him out of obligation when your mother had worked in his estate. He didn’t need you. It’s what he tells himself every night before he dreams about you. It’s a lie that he repeats in his head, hoping it will stick eventually. 

“Survived is a bit of a stretch. I’ve been miserable, Twigs.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He hums and tilts his head. 

“Why?” he says, taking a step towards you. “You don’t like it when I do?”

You say nothing. He’s gotten so close to you now that his body brushes against yours. The height difference is a bit more stark now, and he’s looking down at you with that same cocky expression that you’re used to seeing.

 “I like calling you Twigs,” he almost whines. 

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” He reaches out to you, his fingertips tracing down your jawline, then your chin, tilting it upwards ever so gently. 

“My pretty little Twigs,” he says in a soft voice, as if talking to a child.

“Satoru.”

“Finally calling me by my name, huh?” he grins at the way it sounds from your mouth, even if you’re irritated. 

He thinks that you could be screaming it, threatening him with a fucking weapon or your cursed technique, and his eyes would still be as big as the moon with twice as the amount of love.

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t listen. He’s too preoccupied by your face, by the feel of your skin under his touch that he’s missed for so long. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip as his fingers still hold your chin. 

“Still as beautiful as ever,” he murmurs.

“You always do this,” you scoff. “I tell you I need space and you don’t give it to me. It’s like you enjoying disregarding my boundaries or something.”

He scoffs back at you. “Or something,” he repeats.

Satoru takes another step until you’re fully pressed against him. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers playing with the edges of your hair. It’s satisfying when you give him a reaction, and your expression of annoyance makes him want to grin widely. He holds it in, not wanting to make you outright angry.

“Your boundaries are inconvenient,” he says. “And pointless. And I don’t like them.”

“I don’t care.” 

“Why do you care so much about boundaries, sweetheart?” he teases. “You used to be such a good girl. Always doing what I said.”

Your breath hitches. God, you need to fucking get out of here. At least out of his grip.

He notices it immediately as your body responds to his proximity. The little gasp you make, the way your eyes flutter a little faster than you mean to. It encourages him. Makes him cocky. His hand moves from behind your neck to your waist.

“Always letting me touch you,” he continues saying lowly in your ear. “Letting me do whatever I wanted. You’re still my good girl, aren’t you?”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m still hot when I’m pissing you off?”

You stare at him coldly and his smirk falters. The look on your face stuns him a bit.

“You’re actually upset.” It’s not a question.

"Yes, I am. Because every time I see you, you just treat me like a fucking toy. It's exhausting."

“Toy,” he repeats, his jaw clenching. “That’s what you think I see you as. A toy?”

The idea of you thinking that he’d ever see you as just makes his chest tighten. It reminds him of when he first started seeing you. The pitiful look on your face whenever he would be stupid and careless, nothing but a fucking toy. He’d like to think that he was better than that, that he could be better for you. He loved you too much to ever actually think of you as a toy.

"I don’t like it when you say things like that. I’ve—" He stops himself halfway. He’s on the verge of giving you too much — of being too truthful and baring too much of himself. “Fuck. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get, Satoru?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. He can feel them, how desperately he wants to say it. But he can’t do it. He huffs instead, and turns his head away from you. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Right,” you spit back bitterly. “Of course.”

You’re angry but it isn’t enough. Even with the tone of your voice, you were still rather nonchalant. It’d be better if you cried or yelled or pushed your small hands to his chest. 

Anything other than the sardonic treatment he was getting. You’ve always been a little too calm for his liking, even when you were upset. It reminded him of when he would fight with Suguru. You must’ve gotten it from him. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Satoru says, almost pleading. Bleeding with desperation. He takes your wrist in his hands, turns it over so he can trace your veins.

“Sorry for what?”

“For disrespecting your boundaries, and for being a dick, and being so dismissive when Suguru left. For being selfish about you, for wanting you all to myself, for talking to him without letting you know. I’m so sorry.”

He’s prepared for you to walk away as he looks down at you nervously. There’s a heavy silence between you, the distance a growing chasm that he doesn’t know how to bridge. It had all crumbled so long ago and he fucking hates it. He hates how everything has changed. He hates how despite all the pain, he can only stare at you and be enamored by how beautiful you look even when you’re pissed off with him.

You do the last thing he expects. You hug him.

Your body is flush against his and his heart races. It’s like a dam breaks, the way he tightens his arms around you, almost crushes you. Satoru nearly kisses you. The ache in his chest hurts so much. 

“God, Twigs,” he mumbles into your hair. “I missed touching you. I missed everything.”

“I know. I do, too.” 

You stay like that for a while. Quiet. The sounds of cicadas and street vendors and children from a distance are background noise outside your little bubble.

“I feel like I've been bound to you since we were kids,” you whisper. “I'd hate it. Even when I'm in love with you, I hate it. I just... I wanted to try to be my own person."

His breath catches in his throat at your words, because he knows exactly what you mean. He’s felt it before, too. The strange pull that ties the two of you together no matter where you go. No matter how much time passes, it still seems to bring you together.

“You are your own person,” he says, his voice muffled against your neck. “You’ve always been your own person. And I—“ he swallows, gathering himself. Trying to calm down the heavy thrum of his heart. The dull ache in his head. “I never wanted you to feel trapped. Never.”

You nod, pulling away. You look away from him, your eyes fixed now on the moon. You think of the wishes you made, if anything you wanted would ever come true. If you should be ashamed that all you ever wanted was Satoru. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly.

“Tanzaku trees,” you whisper. 

“What did you wish for?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” you roll your eyes. 

He pouts. “You never tell me. Even when we were kids. C’monnn, you can tell me. Is it something naughty?”

You laugh and Satoru feels like his body is starting to soar out of itself. Like his spirit jumps out of his skin. Beaming.

“Well, what’d you wish for?” 

“You. Like always.”

You scoff, wanting to hide your face in your hands. It almost makes him grin wider. He steps closer to you, his large frame surrounding you, his height blocking the moon from your view. 

“I used to wish for you when we were kids, too. I’ll probably wish for you every year.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. He’d always had a way of getting to you. You suppose he always will. His white lashes flutter at your reaction and he steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He’ll keep pushing his luck for as long as he can if he can at least see you smile like that every so often. 

He’d be damned if he ever gave up on you. His persistence was exhausting. It was one of your favorite things about him, even when he was unwelcomed.

“Are you surprised or charmed?”

“Neither.”

You sniffle. Dry tears making your face sting a little, but the moonlight helped conceal them. You could feel the weight of his stare making your insides melt and congeal like a hard rock. You’d let yourself reunite with your lover just like the deities.

You used to believe in angels and spirits and eyelash promises. Satoru Gojo at the forefront of it all, every small desire, even if you refused to admit it. 

You felt impulsive. It was the banter that you missed. It didn’t even take a drink or two like it usually did, not the proximity that Satoru forced out of habit. Yes, his persistence as annoying. Your willingness annoyed you even more.

You look up at him. Always stupidly tall, white hair blocking the moon from your view. It’s a view you’d seen so many times, wishing you could capture it with a camera, but photography would never be able to do the little halo any justice. Stupidly beautiful, stupidly prophetic-looking. It was like the stars were hung just to complement his eyes.

Your lips touch his gently and it satiates him at first. Calms down the manic need until starts back up again, a groan rolling from his throat as he finds his bearings in your waist. Satoru tries to keep it slow, but fuck, he feels like a virgin again. Heat drunk. As if he wasn’t having pussy every other day of the week to distract himself from the way your hair smells.

You pull away when you hear a faint moan, the brush of something thick against your thigh. You almost laugh.

“There’s your damn wish.”

“What about a buy-one-get-one? Tanabata special?”

“That was a gift. Don’t be greedy.”

“Please, baby?” He ignores your warning, already has kisses trailing down the length of your throat. Dandelion-soft to tease you, but to also restrain himself from biting. “It’s been so long. Let me have you for the holiday. You can be my little weaver girl.”

“Are you going to say the whole poem now?”

“Sure. Something something, Heavenly River. Ano natsu no hi, kirameku hoshi,” he sings, purposefully offkey.

“Is that the fucking closing credits song from the anime we used to watch?”

“Yes,” Satoru deadpans. “It references the folk tale, duh.”

You look at him incredulously. He smiles with all his teeth, blinding white. Too perfect. You should punch the lights out of him, really, but you find your grin matching his.

“Jesus, you’re a nerd.”

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

In Another World

Part 2

Request: Hi! Can I please request a Kylo x f!reader oneshot where she’s from Earth, & doesn’t know about jedi + 1st order(she’s not a Jedi/no powers). One day stumbles upon something that causes her to teleport where the 1st Order is. Kylo & troops notice her & capture her(she’s terrified/confused), He keeps her safe, & to fully protect her, he marries her so the order doesn’t question why she’s alive. She hates it at first, but they both fall in love, she even talks him down, so he doesn’t kill his dad. Requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Warnings: angst

WC: 1.5 K.

You can read part 1 here. Fictober Challenge

You didn’t understand why Ren had forced you into a marriage at first. You assumed, like other men who force women into such bonds, that he wanted something cruel and selfish. You prepared yourself to resist, even if fear gripped you, you would rather die than let him touch you like that.

But to your surprise, on your wedding night, he entered your now shared room with nothing but a condition: you would obey his commands in public, but in private, you had the freedom to be yourself. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being in a cell.

Over time, your defenses softened. He remained cold and stoic, but he started inviting you to join him for dinner. 

Those dinners were silent and tense at first, but one evening he asked, “How was your day?” It startled you, and the truth tumbled out; how suffocating it was to stay locked up every day in your room. Something changed then. He began to let you roam the base, and you’d walk alongside him, watching as he commanded his troops. 

Then, there was that fateful day on a distant planet, where he was hunting rebels. He asked if you wanted to step outside, to feel the sun on your skin. It was a monumental leap of trust on both sides. You spent the day collecting wildflowers you’ve never seen in your life. And when he saw your collection that night, he laughed- a genuine laugh that lit up his entire face. It amused him how you seemed to be so fascinated with these common, mundane flowers. It was the start of something beautiful, fragile, and so terribly dangerous. 

The flowers became your secret language. Every time he returned from a mission, he brought you a new one. Each time he saw the sparkle in your eyes and the smile he put on your face, his heart softened further. But the day he brought a flower and your smile didn't reach your eyes, something in him shattered. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hesitantly stepping closer.

“Nothing,” you shook your head dismissively.

He took your hand, a rare gentleness in his touch. “I know you’re lying. Please. Tell me.” 

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to meet him. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do. Please talk to me,” he urged.

“I was just thinking… about everything,” you admitted.

He frowned, confusion and worry etched in his features. “And that made you sad?”

You nodded. “Yes. Because I see good in you, Ren. You don’t have to serve the dark side,” you said, cautiously.

His hand fell away, his eyes darkening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do,” you insisted, stepping forward. “You don’t have to be the monster you pretend to be. I know there’s a part of you that is good. You saved my life. At first, I thought it was out of cruelty or control, but now I see… you were trying to protect me. You can’t hide that part of yourself anymore.”

“And why does that matter?” His voice grew rough with frustration, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why does it matter if I’m good or bad?” 

“Because I have grown to care about you,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I like you. And it hurts to see you hiding behind this wall, pretending to be something you’re not. You’re more than just darkness and cruelty-”

His expression shifted, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Y- you care about me?” The words seemed to echo in his mind, blocking out everything else you said. 

As he pointed that out, you realized you revealed more than you intended. You took a shaky breath, there was no denying it now. “I…I do.”

You braced yourself for anger or rejection, but instead, he closed the distance between you. His hand rested at the back of your head, and he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort, rejection. Finding none, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours,s o gently you almost didn’t believe it was real. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling as you deepened the kiss, feeling the walls between you finally crack.

From then on, he became more caring, more affectionate. Even with his troops, he was still intimidating but gentler.

He had opened up to you, sharing stories of his past, of his grandfather, and the legacy that haunted him. In return, you spent hours studying their histories, trying to understand the world that shaped him.

One day, he captured  a girl who held crucial information about his uncle. He didn;t want you to see her, but word got around, and you found your way to the room. The sight of her, bound and defiant, brought back memories of your own capture. You talked to her, and eventually, you freed her. She hesitated, begging you to leave with her, but you told her that Kylo wouldn’t harm you.

“Where is she?” he stormed into your shared room, his voice like thunder.

“Who?” you feigned innocence, though your heart raced.

“Don’t play with me, Y/n. I’m not in the mood. Where’s the girl?” His fists clenched, his nostrils flaring.

“Oh, Rey?” you replied with forced nonchalance. “I let her go.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Let her go? You let her go?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea what-” He was interrupted by a  trooper informing him they’d located her. His father was there, too. Without another word, he stormed out, leaving you behind.

You followed, finding him poised to strike his father down. “Stop!” you cried, your voice cracking with desperation.

“Get back to your room,” he ordered, his voice like ice.

“Ben, please,” you pleaded, taking a cautious step forward. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned, raising a hand, ready to use the Force.

“Remember what you told me about your grandfather?” you pressed, your voice trembling but determined. “Vader returned to the light. He saved his son, and his son saved him. If you want to honor him, let your father go. Please, come back to me. I won’t leave without you.”

“Y/n!” he growled, the conflict raging in his eyes.

Heart pounding, you took a final step back toward the railing. “I’m giving you a choice, Ben. Will you let your love for me win…or your thirst for power and revenge?”

“Don’t try anything reckless,” he warned, fear flashing across his face.

“Then choose me,” you whispered, before letting yourself fall into the void. Fear gripped you, you didn’t want to die, but hope lingered- that he would save you, choose you. 

You never hit the ground. His arms caught you, and you opened your eyes, he held you tightly. He’d let go of his father to save you. He chose love over hate.

Guiding him back to the light was a slow, painful process, but he let you in, step by step. Peace followed, but the dream began: visions of a place you knew you had to return to. You couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. You knew what that meant. You had to go, leave him behind, return to your life, your own timeline. You spent the last few days giving him all the love you could, spending every minute of every day with him.

The day finally came. You brought him the coordinates, the dread heavy in the air. When he asked you about it, you told him you’d been having dreams about that place and wanting to explore it, without explaining further.

When you arrived, you saw the thing that looked like a portal of some kind, but he couldn’t see it. To him it looked like a wall.

He sensed your pain and unease. “Y/n, why are we here?”

You inhaled slowly, unsure of how to tell him this. “I have to go back.”

“Go back? Where, Y/n? Go back where?” He knew the truth, but he didn’t want to hear it, believe it.

“You know where,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “I have to. All signs are telling me I can’t be here, Ben. The dreams, this unsettling feeling, the accidents lately. I’m not meant to be here anymore,” you explained.

“Nonsense,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You belong here with me. You can’t leave me now…Please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

“I believe I was brought here to save you, to guide you back to the light.That  purpose is fulfilled. I must go back and you have to let me. I don’t belong here and you know that, no matter how much I want to, how much you want me to… If you love me, you will let me go.” A tear slipped down your cheek and in a moment he was there, wiping it away, his hand trembling.

“But I love you,” he choked out.

“I love you, too. Maybe in another world, in another life, we’ll find our way back to each other. I will miss you so so much, Ben. And I will always love you.” 

You kissed him one last time, lingering, memorizing every sensation, not wanting the kiss to end. But it had to. You struggled to pull away, but when you did, you didn’t look back. You walked toward the portal, his fingers slipping from yours. That touch was the last thing you felt before awoke, to see yourself back in the lab, with tears streaming down your face.

Tags: @aoi-targaryen

[dezmolad]

ES Starscream: What they took from him (last minute!)

I can't stop thinking about season 2 of Earthspark so I'm at it again. Overall I was mostly unbothered to the very last 10 minutes of the last episode, this last minutes made me so mad it's unbelievable. So what I'm gonna do now is list all the things that got screwed up in this short time, particulary how Starscream character got absolutely butchered.

Without further ado, that's the list: > Starscream lost any agenda. His agenda in this season wasn't good anyway ofc, but it was ANYTHING at the end of final episode he's just. gone. and that's it woohoo. > Starscream lost his respect among the Decepticons. It was interesting for me how we could see how obedient towards him they were, a bit in season 1 but mostly in season 2. Even Shockwave didn't dare to question him most of the time. I was waiting to discover why is that so. Maybe they knew he was capable of pulling a stunt like the one he did at the end of season 2 so far? But yea we will never know bc noone from Decepticons is going to stick around him now, and now Shockwave is the leader so gap has been filled. so fun. > He also lost his mission, his care for anything! cyberforming Earth was ment to serve the Decepticons, his fellow cybertronians. But first in the dialogue with Hashtag Starscream says he's doing it just for himself and then he just. Lost his mind i guess. > Speaking of Hashtag. Starscream in this dialogue with her twists his own words from "What Dwells Within" from season one. His words coming from genuine care we saw developing in that episode here are shown as somehow mischievious, as some stupid foreshadowing. Its completely insane how the show retrospectively is erasing everything that could make Starscream redeemable later on. Awful, absolutely awful. > Hashtag also says that his actions will make him worse than Megatron, and he accepts that. The intention of this specific line is super clear. It makes his relationship in simplistic reality of the cartoon somewhat less of a problem. Starscream is bad right, even worse than Megatron, so why bother. I fear that's the way this series closes the problem of Megatron's and Starscream's relationship, expecially with how earlier on in season 2 Megatron is framed as reasonable and the one trying to speak to him before the fight. I'm afraid we will never hear anything about them that makes sense in this show. And it's just so disappointing. > Starscream murdering two children (that's what Chaos Terrans are ok) which is. Oh my god. It's such a cheap move to make the character unredeemable. Not to mention how deaths of Aftermath and Spitfire were kiiiiiinda convenient for our protagonists. "uh oh how sad they are dead how could you Starscream :(((((( ok now lets get the Emberstone that is now complete thanks to them being dead :))))))" > About that scene. I hate it from different reason, too. Because the way Starscream treated Chaos Terrans, expecially Spitfire was a beacon of hope for me in this season. The way he was never violent towards them (even Breakdown kicked Aftermath! And Starscream never did anything like that, even when Twitch in Spitfire's body made a mess and ruined the equipment!). The way we could kinda see him getting closer with Spitfire, in the way that reminded me how kind he could be for Hashtag in season 1. And all of this absolutely ruined, none of this was relevant.

So that's all I've gathered, if you have something more feel free to add your observations! Starscream's character in season 1 is very dear to me, even if "What Dwells Within" isn't perfect I still loved it so I feel personally robbed by season 2.

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Regrets~

Choso x reader (Hella Angst)

I’m in literal tears. Gege, literally sleep with one eye open tonight >:((((

Warnings: Contains spoilers, sad, sad, and sad

________________________

You strolled through the bustling city streets, reveling in the lively atmosphere as you searched for the perfect gift.

"So, when are you finally going to tell him? I’m losing my patience over here!" Yuki's voice burst through the phone, brimming with excitement at the prospect of you confessing your deep love.

"Easy, Yuki. I'll wait until he gets back from his trip. I can't believe you talked me into this. I just hope everything goes as planned," you replied, trying to mask the nerves creeping in.

”Oh come on now, n/n! If Choso doesn’t feel the same way about you, then I’ve been living a whole lie. I mean just looking at him whenever you are around makes me almost burst out laughing because of how red he gets. Or when he can barely come up with a proper sentence to say because he can’t think straight when he is around you. Or the fact that he gets so pissed when he sees you going on a mission with another man besides him. Or when-“

"Alright, alright, I hear you, Yuki," you interrupted, unable to suppress a laugh at her fervor. Despite her convincing arguments, doubt lingered in your mind.

"I guess it's just my own insecurities speaking."

"Tell those insecurities to fuck right off! You and Choso are a match made in heaven. If you two don't end up together, I'll lose faith in love altogether," Yuki retorted, her sarcasm laced with sincerity, eliciting a giggle from you.

"I just hope he comes back soon. It's been two weeks since we last spoke, and I'm getting restless. I miss hearing his voice and gazing into his eyes," you confessed.

"Aww, you're melting my heart over here!" Yuki cooed affectionately.

Yuki’s affectionate response brought a faint smile to your lips, momentarily lifting the heavy weight of sorrow from your heart.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” she continued, her tone soft yet playful. “You two are like characters straight out of a romance novel. It’s about time you two realize it.”

You chuckled lightly, grateful for Yuki’s unwavering optimism even in the face of your own doubts.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of warmth. “I needed that.”

“No problem, n/n,” Yuki replied, her voice filled with genuine care. “Just remember, whenever you’re ready to tell Choso how you feel, I’ll be here to cheer you on.”

You smiled, thanking her for always making you feel better.

As you continued to talk to her about the whole situation, you kept your eyes peeled for the perfect gift that would capture the essence of your love for Choso. And then, just when you least expected it, you stumbled upon it: a beautiful, handcrafted necklace adorned with a delicate silver charm. It was just the thing you were looking for.

’Oh, I gotta go girl. I think I just found the perfect gift for Choso.” You spoke.

Yuki’s voice echoed with anticipation as she bid you farewell. “Ooh, I can’t wait to hear all about it later! And remember, if you need any last-minute pep talks, I’m just a phone call away.”

You ended the call as you two said your goodbyes, quickly walking into the store that caught your attention.

You walked right up to where the necklace was and held it in your hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“He will love this.”

You made your way to the cashier, excitement coursing through your veins. This gift, you knew, would convey everything you had been unable to put into words. The depth of your love, the sincerity of your affection, and the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities.

“Oh goodness, this is a gorgeous piece. Is It for you or a lucky someone?” The cashier asked, her eyes scanning the necklace.

”It’s for someone. I hope he likes it.”

”Oh honey, I’m sure he will just love it. It is absolutely gorgeous.” She said, scanning the price tag.

”I thought so too. The perfect gift for the perfect man.” You said, feeling a pleasant warmth spread throughout your chest.

”Careful dear, keep thinking about that special boy and soon the blood will rush to your face so soon you’ll pass out.” She teased.

I looked away, a smile creeping up on my face again as I listened to her.

”Here you are, dear. I hope whoever this fine young man is realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you.” She spoke with endearment.

I thanked her and paid for the necklace, leaving the store.

As you made your way home, the thought of finally being able to express your feelings to Choso filled you with a sense of joy and anticipation.

As you entered your apartment, the familiar warmth of home enveloped you, soothing the lingering traces of doubt and uncertainty that had clouded your mind. Settling onto the couch, you retrieved the necklace from your pocket, cradling it with your hands as you admired its delicate craftsmanship.

You decided to turn on a movie to allow time to pass, still holding onto the necklace.

—

As the movie played in the background, you found yourself lost in thought. With each passing scene, memories of Choso flooded your mind, each one a sweet, sweet reminder of the love you held for him.

Lost in the timeless embrace of cinematic magic, your fingers danced delicately over the intricate patterns of the necklace, their movements a silent testament to the depths of your affection. With each stroke, you traced the curves and contours of the pendant, weaving a tapestry of longing and devotion that shimmered in the soft glow of the room.

As the hours slipped by unnoticed, the vibrant hues of the daytime sky gradually gave way to the velvety darkness of night. A symphony of stars adorned the heavens, their celestial glow painting a breathtaking tableau against the midnight canvas. The moon, a luminous beacon of silver, cast its gentle radiance over the sleeping city below, bathing it in a soft, ethereal light.

Beneath the canopy of stars, you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air caressing your skin like a gentle embrace. The city below lay bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, its bustling energy now hushed in the tranquil embrace of the night.

As you stood there, enveloped in the serenity of the nocturnal world, a sense of peace washed over you, soothing the tumultuous currents of your heart. With each breath, you felt a profound connection to the universe, a reminder of the boundless beauty that surrounded you.

Leaning against the balcony railing, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be swept away by the symphony of night sounds—the distant hum of traffic, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, the occasional chirp of a cricket. In this moment of quiet contemplation, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for the simple pleasures that life had to offer.

As the night wore on, a gentle weariness settled over you, a welcome invitation to the realm of dreams. With a contented sigh, you bid farewell to the stars above, their twinkling light a silent companion in the vast expanse of the night sky.

As you retreated indoors, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window cast a serene ambiance over the room, painting everything in a gentle luminescence. With each step towards your bed, you felt the weight of the day's emotions lifting, replaced by a tranquil sense of calm.

Nestling under the covers, you cradled the necklace in your hands, its delicate contours glinting softly in the ambient light. As you closed your eyes, the soft rustle of the night breeze outside whispered secrets of love and longing, a soothing lullaby that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

With the necklace nestled beside you, its presence a silent promise of the love that lay within your heart, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep.

—

As the morning unfolded, dark clouds hung low in the sky, casting a pall over the city. The sound of rain tapping against the window panes filled the air, a somber melody that matched the heaviness in your heart.

Groggily, you reached for your phone, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw a flurry of missed calls and messages from Yuki, her name flashing urgently on the screen.

With a sense of growing unease, you opened the messages, each one a testament to Yuki’s increasing concern:

”Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning”

“Please, answer me. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m coming over. If you’re not okay, I need to be there for you.”

Confusion and worry knotted in your stomach as you quickly dialed Yuki’s number, the anticipation building with each ring.

“Y/N, thank goodness you called back,” Yuki’s voice trembled with urgency on the other end of the line.

”Yuki, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” You asked, confused as to whats got her all riled up

“You mean…you don’t know?” She asked, her voice trembling and breaking.

”Know what? What’s going on, Yuki?” You asked, growing anxious as she kept quiet.

”You need to turn on the news.” She spoke quietly, almost as if she was trying to hold back a sob.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you made your way to the living room, the rain drumming a mournful beat against the windows. Fumbling for the remote, you switched on the television, your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, as the screen flickered to life, your worst fears were confirmed. The news anchor’s voice filled the room, delivering the devastating news that Choso, the man you loved, was dead.

Shock reverberated through you, a numbness settling over your senses as you struggled to comprehend the enormity of the loss. Tears blurred your vision as you read the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen, each word a dagger to your shattered heart.

In that moment of agonizing despair, you clung to your phone like a lifeline, scrolling through the messages from Yuki once more. Each one a plea for reassurance, a desperate attempt to reach out across the void of grief and offer solace in the face of overwhelming sorrow.

And as you stood there, enveloped in the suffocating grip of loss, all you could do was hold onto the memories of the love you shared, a fragile beacon of light in the darkness of despair.

As the news sank in, a gut-wrenching wave of disbelief and anguish washed over you, threatening to engulf you in its relentless grip. “No… no, no, no, NO!!!” you screamed out, the words torn from the depths of your soul as if pleading with the universe to undo the cruel twist of fate.

With trembling hands, you sank to the ground, the weight of the news bearing down on you like a crushing weight. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, each sob echoing the shattered pieces of your heart.

In that moment of raw, unfiltered agony, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into a haze of pain and despair. The reality of Choso’s absence loomed over you like a dark specter, a gaping void where once there had been love and laughter.

Clutching your phone to your chest, you curled into yourself, the ache of loss consuming you from the inside out. How could this be happening? How could the man you loved, the man you had dared to hope for a future with, be taken from you so suddenly, so senselessly?

You realized with a pang of despair that you would never get the chance to finally confess to Choso how much you loved him. The words you had longed to speak, the feelings you had kept hidden deep within your heart, now seemed like a cruel joke, forever out of reach. How could you have been so foolish, so blind to the fleeting nature of time? How could you have let fear and doubt rob you of the chance to lay bare your soul to the one person who mattered most?

Tears mingled with raindrops as you lay there, consumed by a maelstrom of grief and regret. The ache of loss tore at your insides, a relentless reminder of all that had been lost in the blink of an eye.

—

Weeks had passed since the day Choso had left this world, yet the pain of his absence remained as raw and agonizing as ever. With each passing day, the ache in your heart had only grown more pronounced, a relentless reminder of all that had been lost.

Now, as you stood before his gravestone, the weight of grief bore down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. Raindrops fell softly from the sky, mingling with the tears that streamed down your cheeks, a testament to the depths of your sorrow.

Clutching the necklace in your hand, you knelt before the stone marker, the cold, unforgiving earth pressing against your knees. The words engraved upon the marble surface blurred in your vision, obscured by the haze of tears that clouded your sight.

"I'm so sorry, Choso," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry that I never got the chance to tell you how much you meant to me, how much I loved you."

The words spilled from your lips in a torrent of anguish, each syllable heavy with regret and longing. With trembling hands, you reached out to trace the letters of his name, as if by touching them, you could somehow bring him back to life.

"I miss you," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the falling rain. "Every day, every moment, I miss you more than words can say. I wish I could turn back time, to tell you how much you meant to me, to hold you in my arms just one more time."

But the only response that greeted your words was the echo of your own sorrow, the silence of the graveyard offering no solace, no comfort in the face of your overwhelming grief.

With a heavy heart, you placed the necklace atop the gravestone, a small offering of love and remembrance in the vast expanse of loss.

Your trembling hands traced the outline of his gravestone, fingers tracing the engraved letters that spelled out his name. Each stroke was a tender caress, a silent tribute to the man you had loved so deeply.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to the cool marble surface, a bittersweet kiss that spoke volumes of the love that still burned within your heart. You, lost in a sea of grief and regret, felt the gentle touch of familiar hands on your shoulders, pulling you back to the present moment. Yuki and Yuuji stood beside you, their presence a source of solace in the midst of your despair.

“I just wish I could have told him. So that he at least knows…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears. The anguish in your heart spilled over, manifesting in sobs that wracked your body with each passing moment.

“He knows,” Yuki’s voice was soft yet resolute, her words a balm to your wounded soul. “Choso knew, Y/N. He knew how much you loved him, even if the words were never spoken.”

Her words hung in the air, a gentle reminder that love transcended the boundaries of time and space, reaching beyond the realm of the living to touch the hearts of those who had passed on. And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall, washing away the traces of sorrow that clung to your skin, you felt a glimmer of peace take root within you.

With a shaky breath, you nodded in acknowledgment, the weight of your grief still heavy upon your shoulders but somehow more bearable in the presence of those who cared for you. And as you stood there, surrounded by the love and support of your friends, you knew that even in death, Choso’s spirit would continue to watch over you, a guardian angel guiding you through the darkest of nights.

And as you stood there, your tears mingling with the rain that fell from the heavens above, you made a solemn vow to carry Choso's memory with you always, to honor his life with every breath you took.

For even in death, his spirit would live on in the love that had bound you together, a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space, a love that would endure for all eternity.

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[romanoffsbish]

The Power of a Kiss

WandaF!R x Natasha

Warnings: Sad Nat | Meanish Wanda (🤏🏼)

Smut: Oral (W/N — 69-ish) | Strap (N) | BJ (Enchanted Strap — R) | Filthy 🤭 |

18+ — Minors DNI

W/C: 2,978 Words

Natasha sat on the kitchen counter, her knees pulled to her chest beneath a grey hoodie with her solemn face pressed into the silky skin. In the dimly lit space one could see the fabric was wetted from a shower she likely just took. The moonlight cast upon her face, showing a lip that was chewed apart, and tear stained cheeks.

A showcasing of a woman in deep turmoil.

——

That's how you found her as you entered the communal space at midnight. It made your body freeze in the doorway, she looked so sad, but in the same breath she was mesmerizing.

The hoodie adorning her body was Wanda's, which in turn was actually yours since your girlfriend had stolen it from you ages ago. It warmed your heart to see she'd also stolen it.

There was a sinking suspicion for why the woman wasn't asleep, it was the same reason you and Wanda hadn't gotten a wink yet, and why you were here to make her a mug of tea.

Natasha knew you were there, which is why you silently entered to set the kettle on the stove, then to her pride's chagrin you were stood before her with a concerned smile.

"Hey," you whispered, doing your best not to spook her too bad. Natasha stretched out, her legs now dangling over the side of the counter and you took the opportunity to step closer. Her tears had stopped moments before you entered, but now, as you loosely hugged her and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead she broke. "What's troubling you sweetheart?"

"I-I," Natasha groaned against your shoulder, being vulnerable was terrifying, but being rendered speechless was embarrassing. It took all of her, but she shakily spoke: "The kiss."

You froze, and she sobbed even harder, and that reaction kickstarted your next moves.

"Natasha," you softly called, voice steady even though your heart was wildly pounding in your chest. "I need you to look at me please."

The redhead reluctantly pulled away, her heart screaming at her not to in case she never got to have your comfort again. However, she was too stubborn for her own good, and instead of looking at you she leaned her head back against the cabinet and looked at the ceiling.

Tears that had stopped picked back up, and rolled down the side of her face, she could feel them settling into the divots of her clavicle. You watched with a deep sense of guilt as she pulled her lip between her teeth after taking in a shaky inhale. "Oh Natasha, please don't shut me out. Just look at me sweet girl, it's okay."

"Please, just go back to sleep Y/N..."

You shook your head, and with a gentle, but firm grip you pulled her face down by her chin. Forcing her to look into your eyes as you spoke with a steady voice, "Natasha, the kiss was for a mission." A broken sob left her instantaneously along with your words, she tried to shove you away so she could run to her room, but before she could escape you your lips were on hers.

Natasha went rigid, her mind frozen as she thought of your lover upstairs, but she gave into the urge and soon met your affection. You smiled as you pulled away, her whine eliciting joy to spark deep in your soul. "That kiss was real, and quite frankly, well overdue lovebug."

The redhead scrunched her nose defiantly, but the ghost of a smirk told you she genuinely loved the nickname. Her heart was hammering as a mix of relief and guilt burrowed deep into her chest. Overall she was confused, rightfully so, but her curiosity was peaked as she allowed you to help her down from the counter. You guided her pliant form over to the stove then handed her a steaming mug of chamomile, then you lifted the other filled with earl grey. 

Natasha sipped on the drink when you nodded in confirmation that it was hers. "Thank you." You smiled warmly, and squeezed her hand in response before using that hold on her to guide her back upstairs, and straight into your room.

Wanda peered up at you from her book, you smiled timidly, guilt overwhelming you all over again as you took her in. Her beautiful features worn down from wrestling with the aftermath of the explosive argument you'd just had.

The mission had taken a clear toll on all of you.

It was never your intention to kiss the redhead, but you had a choice to make. Rush the process that you and Wanda had discussed in detail, or let the operation implode as your cover ends up blown due to a familiar face catching you and Natasha in a lie as you played wives for a night.

The decision was truly simple, albeit divisive.

So as the former Shield agent, who'd actually been a hydra operative neared you'd swiftly pulled the redhead into you. Natasha had squeaked, but fortunately you swallowed the sound of surprise, and soon enough she'd had no problem falling into the rhythm you'd set.

Your hands shielded her face, and hers gripped tightly onto the lapels of your suit jacket to pull you even closer, and when she hummed in satisfaction as your lips kept a steady pace you instantly knew that this would have a fallout.

You'd pulled back slowly, panting softly in line with her, then as if the intimate moment had never even occurred you crushed her with whispers of the truth. "Rumlow's here, we need to leave unseen, and reassess how to return."

When you had gotten out you helped her into the backseat of a black sedan, but upon the return to the compound she had left in a rush. You intended to chase after her, but Wanda had already caught wind of what took place and therein laid a bigger problem for you.

Hours of baseless accusations were thrown at you, along with harsh words and you took her angered outburst with familiar ease. Wanda was a bit of a hothead, she never was much for listening to reason until she'd yelled a lot. In the end she deflated, she understood that you were protecting the both of you. The outcome that ended with you and Natasha intact was the preferred way, but she was still disappointed.

It'd been months of waiting for the right time to ask Natasha out. Wanda had it planned out, your only job was to show up and look pretty.

Then tonight's mission stole away the magic.

The witches gaze flitted right beyond you to see Natasha's demure expression. She smiled as she too noticed her choice in attire, but it fell when she saw the tear tracks. Wanda was on her feet in an instant, you shuffled out of her way, and dropped Nat's hand in the process.

"What's the matter dorogoya?" Natasha sucked in a harsh breath, forcing her composure to stay intact as the woman gently held her face. "I-I." Natasha was once again overwhelmed by the amount of love she found within her gaze. The redhead looked to you nervously, and you simply blew her a kiss and winked. "Go ahead."

Natasha nibbled on her lower lip, she set her mug down as she worked up the courage, then took the lead and timidly leaned up to kiss her.

Wanda's hands slid from her face, one held her firmly in place by her neck while the other slid beneath the layers on her upper body. Natasha gasped at the feel of her cold fingers, giving Wanda the chance to deepen the affection.

The tension in the room now shifted from one rooted in disappointment to one of pure lust.

Wanda's hand slowly inched up, eliciting a smattering of goosebumps to rise as she kissed the woman known for her stoicism dumb. Natasha is affectedly whimpering, the sounds slightly muffled by the witches smooth tongue.

Her body grew even hotter when you pushed your front into her back, your voice lowered as you husked: "Do you want this Natasha?" It was then that she felt the strap, too lost in the heat of the prior moment with Wanda she'd failed to realize you'd stripped down to a bra, and harnessed the thick silicone to your body.

Wanda suckled on her tongue, forbidding her from screaming out a yes. She was determined though, so her ass wiggled and pressed back into you hard, giving way to her desperation. The redhead hoped after the soft words in the kitchen that this was a beginning, but she was also willing to have only this one night too.

Even if it would break her entirely.

When Wanda did pull away she used her hand to angle Natasha's head to the side so you could kiss her softly as the witch spoke next. "This is more than sex Natasha, I'm sure you know that we adore you, but if you weren't sure I need you to know now that once you agree to be with us that it entails a lifetime of love."

Natasha's lip trembled against yours, then a soft, almost broken 'please' fell from her lips that got the dance of lust well underway.

In a blur of movements the redhead was stripped down to nothing, her head thrown back as your finger rubbed against her clit and your teeth grazed over the skin over her throat. While Wanda got situated, you'd been marking the redhead up, and receiving thanks for your stimulation with every moan, and shudder.

Wanda's hum broke the two of you from your haze, you continued to massage her clit, but your gaze fell to the bed that harbored your nude lover. Her head initially out of sight as she was laying with her feet by the headboard. The message was clear, so you spun Natasha around and let her hazy eyes clue her in too.

"Climb up now sweetheart, let's see what that mouth of yours can do," you teased lowly, "I can give you an insider tip, nibble her clit."

Natasha was eager, initially paralyzed by the sight of her she stood rigid, but as soon as you urged her forward she was practically leaping. Once she straddled her you could see the way your girlfriend was enamored by her dripping cunt that now perfectly hovered over her face.

With a stretched out hand she gripped your strap, and gently guided it to her entrance. "Breathe sweetheart," Wanda reminded her, then she looked up to you with a sinful gaze. "Can you see the way she's dripping on me? She's fucking drenched, so give it to her."

As the tip passed through her entrance she was already losing her balance, falling face first into Wanda's awaiting cunt that wasn't any less aroused than her own. Natasha whimpered at the initial slap to her face, but as soon as the tang of Wanda traversed her tastebuds she was lapping away without any further instruction.

A string of throaty moans left the witches lips and you could feel the way your clit throbbed, causing you to thrust all the way into Natasha as the urge to seek out friction won out. You joined the chorus of pleasure as you groaned in satisfaction once the hilt brushed your clit.

With an effortless strength you gripped Nat by her thighs, lowering her body just enough to allow Wanda a moment to taste her. She was telepathically thanking you as her tongue began to circle over her clit as you rammed into her in a manner that left her teetering the edge.

Natasha clenched around your strap so hard that your own hips were momentarily stilled. Her arousal gushed, coating your strap and dripping down into Wanda's awaiting mouth. Though her thighs trembled beneath your fingertips that held them in a bruising grip you didn't once stop your hips incessant rutting.

Not even as you adjusted your hold, effortless as you lifted her up with your forearms now hooked underneath the top of her plush thighs. Natasha moaned against Wanda's folds as you fucked into her even deeper than before. Her mind was hazing over fast, there wasn't a single sense of hers that wasn't overrun by at least one of you. She felt every thrust of your strap, and graze of Wanda's fingers as they ran up and down her sides. Her smell and taste were nothing short of satisfied by Wanda's essence. Her eyes were shut tight, but she saw your bodies with clear attention to detail against the black of her eyelids until she was seeing stars.

Then there was what she heard, it was the quickest thing driving her crazy honestly. The sounds of absolute filth filled the room, her cunt so slick that each thrust came with a gush; a low hum that made your knees weak too left Wanda as she savored her desired treat, and then she screamed in pleasure, you watched in awe as her eyes rolled, and you smirked smugly knowing that Natasha heeded your advice. The sound alone drove Natasha over the edge again causing her to drench Wanda's entire face.

"Holy shit," you gasped, the strap slipped from within her due to her wetness. The tip tapped Wanda's forehead before it crashed into your thigh, and the redhead used her forgotten strength to break out of your grip so she could roll onto the mattress with a sharp inhale.

Wanda looked up at you through hooded eyes, the sight of your sheened skin and heaving chest enticing her to roll onto her stomach, then without warning she enhanced your entire experience by enchanting the strap just before taking the entire length into her mouth. It was selfish in nature in a way, sure she was aiding you in reaching your climax, but she also just couldn't get enough of Natasha's sweet cum.

With every bob of her head your walls pulsed, as if it was Wanda railing you from behind. If she moaned around the tip, throat squeezing the silicone, you'd feel that pressure against your g-spot, while the vibration also traveled down the silver silicone, and met your clit.

"Holy shit Wanda," you cried, hand flying to entangle in her hair, "Don't stop, fuck..."

With the way she looked up at you it was a no brainer that your released came with the next thrust. Her eyes were sparkling with tears as you'd taken over the pace and slid the silicone down her throat without mercy. As soon as she blinked them away you screamed out in bliss.

The brunette pulled back, and hastily removed the harness from your body, she leaned in and pecked your clit. She chuckled when it pulsed beneath her lips, but in a show of restraint she pulled away, and instead used her fingers to scoop up the arousal dripping down your legs.

She peered back to find Natasha raised upon her elbows, with eyes transfixed on your body. Wanda saw the lusty undertones in her gaze, but above that she also saw the longing that was far more intimate. "Come," she beckoned her forward, and Natasha scrambled to her.

Wanda slid her glistening fingers into the woman's mouth, allowing her to taste you as well, and Natasha greedily accepted the offer. Then the witch turned her gaze back to you, holding eye contact with you as she too tasted your divinity. "I'll never grow tired of you." She winked, then she rose onto her knees, her lips capturing yours while her fingers never once stopped thrusting into Natasha's mouth.

It was a palpable moment, the lust still flowing throughout the air but your bodies were still. Only slight movements as Wanda devoured your lips, and fucked Natasha's throat. Once she was satisfied she relinquished the both of you then fell back onto the mattress grinning.

Her body settled back into the spot she had been in when you both walked in, and her now cold tea settled into her hand as she brought it to her with wisps of red. You rolled your eyes playfully, then waltzed over to the mini fridge with wobbly legs to get yourself a cold water.

Natasha sat there a bit bewildered, then she crawled into the middle and looked at your girlfriend with bright, albeit tired eyes. "Do I stay, or should I go back to my own room?"

Wanda frowned as she turned to her, her hand gently cupped her jaw as she pulled her into a kiss that rivaled the others in softness. You settled onto your side of the bed, and as soon as Wanda let her lips free you slid a shirt over her head, and gave her a swift peck on the lips.

"We meant what we said Natty," you smiled, "We want you to stay, and be ours forever."

Natasha giggled, something that was unheard of, but to you and Wanda it wasn't unexpected. Deep down she was all fluff, you knew that well, you both intended to protect her fragile heart. It was a miracle she kept it, and you would cherish it for all of time if she'd let you.

"I have been dreaming of this..." Natasha softly admitted as she settled between your bodies. Your arms laid beneath her neck, and over her abdomen, while Wanda's crooked beneath her own pillow, as the other layered over yours. "Oh Natty, if only you knew we'd been too..."

None of you knew that a mission would lead you here, you wouldn't complain either, even if it was all a bit unorthodox. Sometimes things don't go to plan, but you reckon that wasn't too bad as when you woke up your guy's missing piece was finally snuggled in between you.

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