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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 6 months ago

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HOME IS YOUR HEART - Clegan (Barbed Wire Hearts AU Series) Fic

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs @trashbag-baby666

I couldn't help myself, my cowboys were begging to be written again despite me having a raging ear infection and a high temp but FUCK IT, NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER (pun intended). Enjoy!!

When Gale steps down from the fold out step of his trailer, breathing in the distinct smell of the pitfire curling through the air, taking in the sound of his little band of ragtag cowboys chatting and laughing together from their various positions seated around it, he can't stop the warm and comforting feeling of home that settles deep in the recesses of his chest.

He can't stop that feeling from curling its way into every little nook and empty space of his body, filling in the cracks like honey, warming spaces that he never knew were sitting dormant and cold behind everything else. An unmistakable sense of belonging whispering into his soul, something that he hadn't felt since he was a boy, young and green roping practice dummys in his father's arena back home in Wyoming, his mother leaned up against the fence with the smile she had passed on to him in a carbon copy beaming wide and blinding white.

It was a feeling that slowly melted away the older he got. When his mother's presence disappeared from the inside of the Cleven family ranch home, her usual perch on the arena fence left empty and tainted with a grieving loss. Her boots that sat by the front door amongst the others leaving a space that he could never fill, allowing the empty cracks to start reaching further and further as time went on. Pulled apart with every harsh word from his father's mouth, every disappointed shake of his head, every hit that left an ugly burning fire both on his skin from a cruel open palm and burrowing deeper and deeper into his soul in the wake of it all.

But looking at where he was now, situated amongst some of the best men he had ever had the pleasure of calling friends, partners, a team, that warmth was slowly starting to trickle back in. It was in the way that Crosby was smiling sat over on the wheel-arch of his trailer, Bubbles close next to him, an arm draped over his shoulder and smiling up drunkenly at Douglas and Everett as they recalled some story with exuberant smiles and arm gestures.

It was in the way Brady was kneeling down on one knee near the open tack box, showing Hambone how to properly strap his boots tight around his calf with flat leathers for the next bull-ride. The other man's scarred face intent and interested and asking questions like a schoolboy in the presence of a scholar, beer bottle balanced precariously between loose fingers.

Jack sat in one of the camper chairs closer to the fire, pointing out somewhere in the distance with a concentrated frown and trying to explain something to Benny while the other man frowned out in the same direction with his left hand hanging down from his own chair to absentmindedly scruff his fingers through his husky, Meatball's, fur, the dog laying sleepily at his side enjoying the ministrations.

It was in the giddy love-struck smile of Curt, holding the new paramedic, Kenny, on his knee, a sweet boy who had only recently been brought into the fold. One of Curt's arms draped loosely around his waist and murmuring hushed words close to the other boy's neck, the younger's face turned slightly to him with a mirroring grin soft and fond on his lips. A hearty laugh only a moment later, head thrown back and Curt's smile growing that much more that you could spot it from miles away, even without binoculars.

Gale felt his own lips curve into a fond smile at the two, eyes leaving them to scan over the top of the fire's flickering warmth. Feeling his own chest compliment the reaching warmth as it crescendoed into its own fire-like sensation when he spotted John, sat comfortably and lazily in his own camping chair, doing what Gale was and observing the men around him with his own soft grin. His hat was tipped down low against his brow, half hiding the bright blue of his eyes, knees spread in content, sinking lower into the cushioned seat as he took a sip of the beer bottle in his hand.

Like he could feel Gale's eyes on him, those stormy blue irises lifted and zeroed in on him with laser focus over the sparks of the fire, softening with affection, grin turning into a wide smile, teeth glinting at him in the glow.

Gale couldn't help the way his heart thundered like a wild horse being corralled at being the cause of that smile, neither could he stop the flush he felt colour his cheeks into what he knew was a faint red that he hoped could be explained away by the fire's heat. Could feel his own teeth bare helplessly into his own giddy smile as he tilted his head down in a shy gesture as he stepped away from the door of his trailer and make his way around the pit in John's direction.

When he made it over to him, standing in front of him and situated slightly in between those open knees, fire at his back, John's smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Directed solely at him, because of him. Eyes staring up at him and taking in every inch of him with a casual ease.

Those open knees turned in to knock lightly against his own, expression full of mirth and adoration. Gale couldn't help the way his heart skipped at the fact that it was directed at him. Had never had anyone look at him in that way during his entire life. Not even his first and only girlfriend way back when he was a still an awkward and lanky 16 year old boy, being the affection of some pretty blond barrel racer from Tennessee that had pursued him for months and delighted in the fact she was eventually dating the son of the great team roping champion Joseph Cleven.

It didn't last long. It was short and sweet and Gale never really could understand why even when she broke up with him during the middle of a rodeo and he saw her not even an hour later making out with some amateur steer wrestler behind the stables, that he didn't really feel all that broken up about it. Couldn't find it in himself to care that someone who he had shared his first kiss and first fumbled handjob with in the back of the Cleven family trailer, had dumped him without so much as a glance backwards. Her perfect blond hair underneath a jewelled white hat bouncing as she sauntered away.

Wasn't until he started noticing the strong shoulders of some of the other ropers, the cocky stubbled smiles of the bullriders and the curve of the asses of the steer wrestlers in perfect fitting Wrangler jeans that he kind of started to understand.

Growing up in the rodeo world, though, where 95% of the families and competitors were heavily influenced by the bigoted views of Christianity and religion, he couldn't afford to let his eyes or his heart linger on his new-found preferences in any way. Not if he didn't want to have his face caved in in some shadowed corner of one of the many rodeo grounds or arenas and left like a bag of trash with a slur branded onto his skin with a hot iron.

So he'd put his head down and focused solely on his craft, solely on the feel of his name being broadcast over the speakers in triumph and the feel of wrapping the rope of his lasso tight over the horn of his saddle and carrying on the merit of the Cleven family name. He'd never let his eyes wander again, never wondered what it would be like to just give in and let himself toy with the idea of being someone's whole world, of being someone's object of affection and heart and the recipient of a gentle and adoring or lustful touch.

His father's words of a relationship being nothing but a worthless distraction in the face of what he could (and should) be accomplishing. Bringing home another buckle to add to the display case in the living room was more important than bringing home a girl on his elbow, all saccharine smiles and promises of a late spring wedding and 2.5 kids running around the ranch in a few years time.

Didn't have the heart to even retort to his father's words that it wasn't girls that he had to worry about Gale bringing home or looking at.

Until John Egan. That damn cocky louder-than-life and brash down to the bone bullrider that all but sauntered his way into the chutes and Gale's life quicker than if he were to sit on Baby's back and have her galloping full pelt through the flats of the wide open fields back home.

Said bullrider knocked one of his knees back against Gale's once again, pulling him back to the present and back to that blinding smile that had softened into something a little more concerned but no less adoring at Gale's silence. Had no doubt his eyes had gone glazed and unfocused amongst the tirade of his mind for a few moments.

"You doing okay there, cowboy?" John said gently, the hand not holding a beer bottle reaching forward and taking hold of his thigh over his jeans, squeezing tenderly in a comforting caress.

Gale swallowed thickly, collecting what little composure he had let slip back firmly against his chest. Tilted an easy smile down at John, eyes flickering over the brunette's face, the warm orange glow of the fire at his back only highlighting the other's sparse barely-there freckles trailing across his nose and over his cheeks. Felt that tidal wave of emotion and affection melt back into him, right where it should be.

"Sure am," Gale murmured lowly, reaching a hand down to cover Bucky's where it was still sat grounding over his thigh. "Was just thinkin', is all."

John hummed in question, hand starting to run absentmindedly up and down as he watched Gale's face with curious eyes. "What about?"

Gale watched him right back, a gentle sigh slipping past his lips against his control, and couldn't stop that wave from breaking over the borders and spilling over into a heedy molasses-slow overload that had his heart lighting up into more than just a fire, into something that more resembled the sun.

He watched John for a few more moments, those questioning blue eyes still searching and waiting on Buck's every word like a dog sitting at his feet and awaiting a command in the hopes of a reward.

"How much you mean to me," Gale finally murmured, watching as something hopeful and bright and absolutely smitten crossed over John's face and came to life in his eyes, smile turning lazy and so self satisfied again that Gale wanted to hide away from the barrage of feelings it illicited inside him.

Went easily when that large hand on his thigh tugged gently until he had to twist himself slightly in his descent downwards, pulled onto John's lap and into the other's warmth. Felt strong thighs tense underneath him before he moved into a more natural and comfortable position, ass fitting into the curve of Bucky's hips and back resting against a broad shoulder. He felt the distinct sharp curve of a large Champion buckle in the denim near his tailbone, but pushed back the small discomfort in the face of feeling like he was falling through the clouds at a million miles an hour.

Bucky rested his hand against Gale's hip, fingers a welcome press near the tooled leather of his belt and rested his chin against Gale's shoulder. His grin was still as prominent as ever, but his eyes were soft and half lidded, too close to focus on Gale's face so instead focused on the skin of his neck, the curl of his blond hair slightly longer at the back.

"That's a lotta thinkin, for little ol' me," Bucky whispered, slightly rocking the both of them side to side. Buck could feel the gaze still focused on his neck like a burn, but one he would gladly walk into covered in gasoline.

He turned his head to the side slightly, side eyeing Bucky as much as their position would allow at this angle. "Way I see it, you're worth a lot more than just thinking about, John Egan."

He heard the click of Bucky's throat as the other swallowed thickly at his words, something vulnerable permeating the air between them, but no less sweet.

Bucky hesitates slightly, seemingly lost for words, repeating Gale's over and over in his head. Buck can see it like a billboard sign lit up above him.

Finally, a shaky exhale, breath ghosting over his neck in a whisper, just as ragged. "Yeah?"

Buck hums in reply, turning his head a little more so he can look at Bucky a bit easier. Still not completely, but enough so that John's face, the tirade of emotions flowing over his features is more in focus. More open to Gale's attention and words. Sees blue eyes flicker up to his in an almost timid display.

"Yeah," Gale repeats, feels his face heat up from more than just the fire as the words that have built inside his chest, pushing and prodding and ready to burst through and out into the air like the sun itself had rooted itself there and made a home. Home. "You've made your home in me John, and for the first time in my life, I wanna build those foundations with my damn bare hands. Wanna be there building it with you."

He sees the moment his words truly sink in to John, make the other man finally hold his gaze, vulnerability and awe in every inch of his expression, brows pulled together in a questioning ache.

"Gale.." Bucky chokes on his words, throat constricting on another harsh swallow, mouth parted like every single moment leading up to this has lodged against his windpipe.

"Won't be building it without you, Bucky."

John stares, transfixed, gaze trailing between Buck's eyes like he's trying to convince himself that everything he's experiencing is real. That he can reach out and touch it as easily as his hands are holding Buck now, beer bottle long forgotten in the grass. His fingers flex against Buck's hips, pressing in without thought.

"You sure?" he whispers, broken and trembling like a kid trying to talk to his first teenage crush, fumbled and nervous and not sure if any of it is real. A broken man, stranded in the desert, being offered his first glimpse of salvation.

Buck can't help the soft smile that makes its way onto his face, turning that bit more, leaning forward slowly until the tip of his nose brushes Bucky's, soft and gentle. Feels the shaky exhale from Bucky's lips straight against his own.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Buck murmurs, low and strong, leaving not even an inch of doubt anywhere. Mirrors the words he said to Curt all those weeks ago when he'd returned from the hospital, weak and shaky like a newborn colt.

Within a single blink, he feels the way Bucky's fingers tighten even further against him, a quick surge of mere millimetres to press his lips insistently to Gale's like that broken stranded man, salvation coming to him in the physical golden form that was Gale Cleven and every prayer he'd ever uttered being answered all at once.

Gale's hand flies up to cup his jaw, sinking further into John's body and the comfort that envelopes him in one big wave as that sunshine in his chest finally bursts from the dam it had self constructed, all those years of being hidden away like a shameful, evil thing. Cast away and never to be brought to light.

Bucky kisses him and pulls him into the light, now. He's frantic, and wild, and untamed, and Gale grips his jacket with the other hand that's not against John's jaw, feeling the sparks that spring forth from the feeling of Bucky's lips sliding against his. Tongue gentle and asking permission despite the wild energy, and Gale grants him it without hesitation, opening up to him like he's now become the starved one.

Buck's thoughts are molasses, slow and thick but still galloping at a million miles an hour and sweet like the taste of John, the careful slip of their tongues fighting a damned war, teeth occasionally knocking and lips becoming the victim amongst it, tenderly bitten against panting breath.

It isn't until that breath starts burning, screaming for air, a familiar sensation akin to their first kiss, that both have to pull away, but only my mere increments. Foreheads still pressed together, Bucky's hat long since pushed off and tumbled to the grass to join the beer bottle at their feet, noses bumping.

Gale can feel Bucky's lips touch his with every harsh panting inhale with how close they still are, and Buck thinks that he could stay here forever. Meld himself to every part of John so he never had to let him go, never had to feel the warmth of his body leave him.

His fingers twitch against Bucky's jaw at the onslaught of emotion still coursing through him, and its not until he manages to peel his eyes back open, the lids feeling heavy and weighted, that he locks eyes with Bucky's own. Everything is unfocused and slightly difficult to see being this close, and he has no doubt he's nearly going cross-eyed with the proximity, but Bucky's eyes are like staring into blue fire. Flames hotter than the one only mere metres from them.

Bucky huffs out a breathless laugh against his lips, and Gale can't stop the blinding smile that threatens to split his face in two if it got any wider.

"You've done it now," John pants, smile mirroring Gale's in a perfect sycnronization. "You're stuck with me, cowboy."

Neither men barely move when Bucky's words cause a chain reaction, Curt's enthused whistle cutting through the silence like a bullet that in turn caused a cacophony of whoops and hollers and whistles to erupt from everyone around them. They had almost forgotten that they weren't alone, were subject to an audience of people that they had all but become family with.

Buck's heart once again burst, the last of those empty cracks that had sat so empty and agonised finally filling in and setting like cement so that he felt completely and utterly whole. Everything slotted into place and it felt like the world had finally righted itself to make way for him.

He leaned forward, pressing his face in against Bucky's neck, cheeks flushed and warm and entire body rooted in place against the shining pillar that was John Egan.

The foundation finally set underneath him. Home.

He pretended not to hear Curt's over enthusiastic "All right, bitches, pay up! Money, in this hand, right here!"

Also pretended not to peer through half lidded eyes where he still had his face pressed to Bucky over to see half of the boys grumble and slap notes into Curt's outstretched palm as they walked past him, before handing the money to Ken, who took it with a smug face and started counting.

Bucky's laugh rumbling against Buck's body and jostling him had him turning his face back and grinning against his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the tender skin.

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dross-the-fish · 7 months ago

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A Spider's Touch

the train wound through the countryside carrying two young men bound for university. One a large, handsome, fair-haired Scottsman who's clothes were of fine cut and who's hair was styled in a fashionable cut and the other a slight dark-haired Englishman in dusty hand-me-downs, who had yet to outgrow the unfortunate stage of early manhood that left him with the bare wisps of a thin mustache and sideburns that would only sprout in patches along the side of a jaw still rounded with boyishness.

The two were clearly friends, they sat side by side and chatted easily and the larger of them was confident and relaxed, one arm propped over the back of the seat with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A dog eared magazine dangled loosely from his hand.

"You think old Hastie will be with us again this year?" he asked his smaller, darker companion.

"I hope so, it'll be nice to see him and with the three of us we could afford to rent a flat off campus. We're not even there and I'm already sick of the thought of living in the dormitories. Are you going to behave yourself this year, Harry?"

"I told you I would, didn't I, Utterson?" there was a faint touch of irritation. Don't nag me

"Of course, but one likes to be reassured," came the cool reply. Don't give me reasons to

They chatted awhile longer until Utterson began to nod off, his head falling to window. Henry Jekyll watched him, took note of a hand falling onto a knobby knee. It was not a lovely hand, in fact he was sure it would be quite ugly when its owner grew older. Bony fingers with prominent knuckles, dry skin around blunt, short nails that had been chewed to the quick and a thick vein that ran from the knuckle of the index finger diagonally towards a sharp wrist. When Gabriel Utterson grew old Henry was sure it would be skeletal and clammy, dotted with liver spots. Not a lovely hand…but a fascinating one, and one he couldn't stop gazing at.

Impulsively Henry's own hand reached out, traced that vein with a long elegant finger in a slow and deliberate stroke.

Utterson gave a twitch and his eyelids fluttered. Henry jerked back and made a quick show of being absorbed in his magazine. Utterson's brown knit, he grimaced rubbing his hand and looking about the cabin.

"Something wrong?" Henry asked coolly.

"I think something crawled across my hand."

"I think I saw a spider in here earlier," Henry lied.

"Disgusting, I hate those things," Gabriel shuddered rubbing a little harder as though trying to rid himself of the repugnant touch and the gesture made Henry's heart drop.

Disgusting

Loathsome…that's what you are

Don't touch me

the ugly voice in his head rasped and he felt a shameful heat rise to his cheeks. He held the magazine higher, hiding his face and he gave Utterson a hum of acknowledgement.

Gabriel Utterson would never understand why Henry Jekyll had remained so silent for the rest of the trip and he would be too busy looking anxiously for the invisible spider that had touched him to care.

…..

40 years later

…..

Gnarled, arthritic and covered in liver spots. the vein more prominent than ever.

Edward watched as those wasted skeletal hands gripped the top of a cane while Utterson stared at the abandoned townhouse once belonging to Henry Jekyll.

His hair had gone completely grey, and his mustache and sideburns had come in thick and full now on the wasted husk of a face.

When Utterson finally had his fill of grieving and walked away he passed very close by the alley where Edward hid, observing from the shadows. He stopped, as though sensing a presence and Edward went very still. The cane tilted as the weight of his hand leaned it forward, dark eyes squinting under heavy white brows scanning the darkness before him for signs of life.

he was so close…

Impulsively Edward reached out and brushed a finger along the vein of that hand with a touch that trembled and barely dared make contact.

Utterson started and dropped the cane with a clatter, shaking his hand as though trying to fling away the unwelcome crawl of a spider on his skin. He cursed. Picked up his cane and before he could rise to get a better look Edward had already disappeared.

#Drabbles #Jekyll and Hyde #Edward Hyde #Gabriel Utterson #Henry Jekyll #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde

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nattysstargirl · 1 year ago

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The Beast of my Dreams

Chapter 2.

Word count:2460

TW: not much this chapter, some harassment, Fluff towards the end

A/N: Next chapter it gets a little...spicy ☺️

~~~

Y/N texts Peter about her dream, since he's the only one she's told. Of course, she doesn't give him all the details of that last dream...

Y/N: I think I was lucid dreaming or something.

Pete🧝🏻: No shit? That's pretty cool. What'd you do?

Y/N: Walked around. Stuck my hand in the hole, but nothing really happened. It smelled my hand like a dog, and I pet it. Head's huge lmao

Pete🧝🏻: wow, that's crazy

Y/N sighs. She knows she's being annoying. But she doesn't know who else to talk to about it.

Pete🧝🏻: you know, I have a friend who does tarot reading

and dream interpretation, stuff like that. want their number? He sends the number without waiting for a response, and Y/N texts it immediately.

Y/N: Hey! Name's Y/N. My friend Peter said you're the person to talk to about weird dreams? I'd love to grab a cup of coffee.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Sure, meet at May's in five.

"Oh, shit," Y/N mutters. She hurries out of her duvet cocoon and yanks on a pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt. She throws a hoodie over it, because it's been getting chillier every night, then she leaves the door unlocked because Peggy still hasn't returned from her shower. There's a long mirror in the hall before the elevator, so Y/N checks herself while she waits for it to reach her floor.

Dark, straight hair looking as flat as usual. She wipes sleep from her hooded eyes and blinks. There's definitely an amount of what Peter would call "thin privilege" that makes her look presentable. Sloppy, baggy clothes are socially acceptable if you're under a hundred and thirty-or-so pounds, which she is. Plus, she's got her mother's smooth, olive skin tone. And she's 5'7", so the way she dresses just looks artsy and relaxed instead of like she just rolled out of bed, which she nearly always has.

Maybe Peggy's right. A little more effort could go a long way. The elevator dings, and she hurries inside, then across campus to May's. May's is the campus coffee shop, nestled between the library and student union building. The exterior is ugly gray siding, and it'd be easy to mistake it for a storage building if not for the constant drip of students rushing through the doors past other students pushing outside with their hands wrapped around warm to-go mugs of fresh coffee and pastries.

Y/N holds the door open for a professor, then ducks into the warmth of the coffee shop. She breathes deep, enjoying the rich smell of roasting coffee beans. She hates the taste. The shop has a line at the register, seven or eight students deep, and the twelve tables lining the walls are all occupied. After a quick glance around, Y/N realizes she has no idea what this person looks like. She doesn't even know their name. That quickly becomes a nonissue as she locks eyes with a person sitting at a two-chair table in the corner on their own. They're watching her with a significant look on their face. And all the information Y/N has on this person—that they interpret dreams, read tarot, and are friends with Peter—reflects in their appearance. Long dark hair with streaks of blue hair mixed in, lines of piercings, a septum ring, a tattoo that looks like a bird reaching up their neck from the collar of a graphic band t-shirt.

Y/N offers a small wave and walks over. "Hi," she says. "Are you...Pete's friend?" The person nods once.

"And you're Y/N."

"Yes!" She smiles emphatically, despite the awkward blanket over the exchange. She points a finger toward the empty chair as if to ask permission, then slips into it.

"My name is MJ," they say.

"Nice to meet you, MJ."

MJ pushes a steaming mug toward Y/N, holding their own in the other hand. "Oh, I don't drink coffee," Y/N says before politely lying occurs to her.

"I know," MJ says. "It's hot chocolate." She loves hot chocolate.

"Oh, thank you! How'd you know?" MJ just watches her.

Y/N shifts in her chair and sips her hot chocolate, hoping MJ will speak before she has to. MJ does not. "So!" she says brightly. "What's your major?"

"Aren't you here for dream interpretation?" MJ doesn't smile.

She coughs lightly on a gulp of hot chocolate. "I am, yes, but—okay, right to it!" Y/N summarizes the dreams, leaving out the details of the last one. "In my last dream, I became more lucid. I was able to stand up and move around."

"You need to get laid," MJ says simply.

Y/N pauses, then giggles because she doesn't know how else to respond. MJ isn't wrong, but being horny has never given her incredibly realistic recurring dreams about sexy creatures before.

"Would you like me to get into the details of that interpretation?" MJ's voice remains monotone. "I'd be happy to do a reading, too." They pull a deck of tarot cards from their jacket pocket and leave it on the table.

"That's okay," Y/N says. "I just... Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. From the yonic tree—"

Y/N snorts. "Yonic?"

"Yes. I assume you have that preference?"

"Maybe," Y/N says. She's never sworn off of men or penises, but they just have never presented themselves in a way that Y/N found difficult to resist.

"And forests hold an undeniably strong amount of feminine energy," MJ continues. "The monster inside—"

"I didn't say it was a monster."

"Oh, what do you call it?"

"A creature?" she offers. "I don't know. I don't feel threatened by it, exactly. It's more exciting than scary, knowing that it might..."

"Kill you," MJ finishes.

Y/N shrugs a shoulder.

MJ sits back in their chair and folds their hands on the table. "That's my read on it. Take it or leave it, but I've never been wrong."

Y/N nods slowly. "I appreciate your insight, definitely. I'll think about that."

"There's more..." MJ says.

"Yes?"

"I believe there is a danger in your dreams. If you don't see to it, and soon, it could mean destruction."

"See to it? Are you saying if I don't get laid, I'll be, what? Cursed?" Y/N's chuckling, but MJ is not. MJ doesn't respond.

Y/N's eyes narrow. "How'd you know I don't drink coffee?" She's not even sure Peter knows that. She keeps it to herself because people are usually really annoying about it.

"I know enough," MJ says. Then they stand abruptly, sweeping their deck of cards from the table and a backpack from the chair. "Good luck, Y/N."

Y/N stares after them as they go. "What the fuck was that?" she mutters. But she pulls her phone out and downloads every dating app she can find.

—

Y/N takes her time finishing her hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth of May's before she has to hike back across campus. She matches with the max amount of women the "good" apps allows, then she wrinkles her nose and switches to the annoying app to right swipe until her wrist hurts. She doesn't even glance at profiles. Her own profile is a single mirror selfie in her underwear with her face cropped out, and her bio reads: "polite, tested, looking for hookups." She also set her location to the smallest distance. The sooner she gets this curse and recurring dream taken care of, the sooner she can focus her energy on not flunking the semester. Her mom pays her tuition, under the condition that Y/N keeps a GPA over 3.0 and doesn't reach out too often.

"Closing soon, honey," a barista calls to her from behind the counter. He's wiping down the espresso machine. Y/N realizes she's the only customer left.

"Sorry," she says. "I'm leaving."

"Be safe out there. Do you need me to walk you home? I'll be done here in fifteen," he says.

"Thanks, but I'm good." She smiles, crossing to leave her empty mug with him. The sun set an hour ago, and she's cold to her bones as soon as she steps outside. She thinks of the buddy system rule, but a part of her is deeply confident she could outrun a wild animal if it came down to it. She shivers. The campus is virtually empty with the animal threat and chilly air, and she watches the stars instead of her feet. A loud, barking laugh from her left makes her jump. Four frat boys stumble out of a dorm building to get away from a stern-faced RA with his arms crossed over a broad chest.

"Get home before I report you." The RA's growl is low but loud enough for Y/N to hear clearly across the quad. He slams the door, and the gaggle of boys scan their surroundings like they're looking for their next victim.

Y/N pulls her hoodie strings tighter around her face and walks faster, but she's not out of sight before they see her. She becomes hyper-aware that she's wearing jeans a size too small, and her hoodie is short.

"Hey, friend!" a boy calls. The three others' heads snap toward her, and they move forward in unison. Great. She keeps her head down and walks as fast as she can without actually sprinting away from them.

Just pretend you can't hear them.

"Hey, wait up!"

"Where ya hurrying off to?"

"We just want to talk!"

Y/N's heart speeds up, too. She's sure they can hear her heavy breathing. Her eyes scan for somewhere she can duck into and hide, or someone to help. She pulls out her phone and calls Peggy, but there's no answer.

"Hey, Peggy!" she says loudly to her voicemail inbox. "I'll be home in two minutes! Yep... Tell the boys that we can—" She loses the sentence as one of the frats catch up with her and grabs her elbow. Her phone skitters across the pavement.

"I'll scream," she threatens. The boy laughs. He's white with blond hair and an insufferable smirk.

"Why? We just wanted to talk. You look so cold." The other three have reached them and form a semi-circle in front of her.

"She does look cold," one says, stepping behind her and pulling her into a backwards hug. Another joins the embrace, wrapping his arms around them both.

"My friend is waiting for me." Y/N's voice is shaking as she tilts her chin up to breathe over their tightly gripped arms.

This campus has a particularly significant reputation around their fraternities. And this isn't her first run-in. She went to a lot of parties freshman year that she was way too young and stupid to be at. She doesn't recognize their faces, but she knows the letters on the twin jackets two of them wear. Her hands are shaking from more than the cold now, but she can't push the boys off, so she tries to stay calm and wait them out. They'll get bored. One keeps his arms around her waist and rests a chin on her shoulder. His pelvis is pressed firmly against her back. She flutters her eyes closed and breathes deeply through her nose.

"Where ya heading?" the blonde leader asks. He moves closer to her, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger.

"We're gonna go find somewhere to chill. You should come."

"Aww," a voice says in the dark behind her. "You have to kidnap girls because no one wants to be around you of their own volition?"

The boys turn to see who spoke, and the weird girl from stats class is walking toward them. She's not as tall as the shortest guy, but she walks like she's the biggest one there. She jerks her head to toss her hair from her face, tilting her chin up at them like a challenge. Her hands are tucked into her red leather bomber jacket, but her eyes carry a distinct and clear threat. The boy who was holding Y/N drops his arms to puff his chest at the girl like a cartoon bully. Y/N would laugh at him if she weren't scared silent.

"You volunteering?" Blonde Boy sneers. She stops a few steps away from them, looking each boy up and down before she finally speaks.

"Why don't y'all scurry back to your rat nest and sleep off all those Capri-Sun-Everclear cocktails?" One boy has kept the biggest distance from Y/N and seems the most in charge of his faculties puts a hand on Blonde Boys shoulder.

"Come on, guys. Not worth it."

The drunkest one stumbles toward her with an extended finger. "You've got a little attitude, huh?"

She doesn't take her hands from her jacket pockets as he gets close enough for her to slam her knee into his crotch. He groans, but it's closer to a squeak, which makes her rat comment funnier. Y/N giggles at that, either from the situation or from her own nervousness.

"That's assault!" Blonde Boy snaps. "We'll get you kicked out, bitch!" She crosses to him in two strides to stand nose-to-nose with him and says nothing.

The sober one roughly grabs the other two by their shoulders. "Come on, guys. We gotta stay in the clear for a while. You heard dean Fury." Reluctantly, they follow him. The one the girl kicked spits on the ground and sniffs loudly as he leaves. The girl watches until they turn a corner and disappear out of sight.

"Assholes," she mutters. Then she turns to Y/N. "You okay?" Her voice is quieter now. It's a very sweet tone despite the low gravel. Y/N thought she was putting on a voice to scare the boys, but apparently that's just how she speaks.

"I'm fine," Y/N says quickly. She crosses her arms to hide her trembling hands. "They're just...being jerks. It's fine." The girl evaluates her.

"I'm Natasha."

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I walk you home?"

Y/N nods. "If you're not busy, that would be nice."

Natasha clears her throat and puts a hesitant hand on Y/N's shoulder. "You sure you're okay?"

Y/N feels her chin quiver as the adrenaline works its way out of her body. She steps into Natasha and drops her face onto her shoulder. Natasha's arms are quick to wrap her in a hug.

"It's okay," she mutters into her hair. "They're gone. Come on, where's your dorm?"

#g!p natasha #lesbian #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #were hyena!natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha romanoff x reader angst #butch!natasha romanoff

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diabolikwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Nga yawne lu oer - Chapter 1

Recom! Miles x Na’vi/Avatar! Fem! Reader – Chapter 1:

Warning: Strong language! Racism, implied smut, kinda character dead, and character revival?

English is not my first language, so if there are any big grammar mistakes, then don’t hesitate to let me know <3

Also it’s been years since the last time I wrote fanfiction so I’ve been a bit nervous about posting this.

Word Count: 1407

Chapter 1: Revived

Miles’ POV

There you were sat looking over some of your samples, and deeply focused. He slowly and carefully walked towards you and when he reached her he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“Hello Darlin’.”

“Miles.” You said completely ensnared in her samples of some weird plant that she had told him about the night before, though he had listened carefully the aftermath that followed was much more interesting.

“Is that all I get? Not even a thank you for waking you so lovely this morning.” He placed careful kisses on her neck, and she giggled in response.

“As if that weren’t more for your pleasure than mine.”

He turned her chair around and by the laws of nature she followed.

“Are you saying that you didn’t enjoy it? Because I recall you begging me not to stop, I even think you ripped some strands of hair out.” Their noses were touching and he could hear her breath getting shallow and he could see her pupils dilating, and her eyes flickered down to his lips.

“Oh no I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong. Though I do feel kinda bad for not returning that delightful treatment.”

He licked his lips and responded “Oh don’t worry you have all the time in the world for the rest of the day if you just put away whatever you are doing right now, I have made arrangements for everything so you have nothing else to worry about, little Miles is cared for for the rest of the night.”

“Oh really?” You licked your lips and just as your lips were about to touch his, everything went black.

“Colonel, colonel.”

Miles ears were ringing at the loud sound, but at the same time the sound felt so far away. But the only thing he had on his mind was a name “(y/n)?”

Though when he opened his eyes, he didn’t see his beautiful angel, no he saw a monster, a big blue ugly monster to be exact. His first response was to punch the fucker in the face, and so he did, he fought against all the other monsters, until he was restrained.

“Colonel it’s me!” Said the first ugly monster that he had punched, though the monster for some reason looked oddly familiar.

“Lyle? Is that you?”

And it wasn’t only just Lyle he realized. It was also Z-dog, Mansk and Fike, and so many more, but they were all… blue. Miles found some comfort in them being dressed normal and having their tattoos, and at least they weren’t wearing the skimpy clothing of the savages “They are not savages Miles, they have feelings like you and I. They have families and laws. They are people, not mindless beasts”, he could hear your angelic voice scolding him in his head.

“I’m alright.” Upon Miles saying that and relaxing his body, his squad members freed him. Though looking behind Lyle he caught the glimpse of something in the window. He pushed Lyle to the side and brazed his hand on the window, and upon looking into his own eyes he was shocked. His eyes weren’t bright blue, no they were yellow. His nose was almost flat. His ears pointy and sat way to high on his head. His scar was nonexistent. And his tan skin was not tan anymore, no it was blue. He looked like them, he looked like those savages, “Not savages Miles,” once again he could hear your voice, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. And when he ran his tongue over his teeth, he could feel fangs. He had become what he hated the most. He had become a disgusting monster. He felt the rage and disgust deep in his bones and flowing through his veins.

“Well. Ain’t this a bitch.”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re Colonel Miles Quaritch. Only younger, taller, bluer and not nearly as good looking.” Miles was looking at his human self, talking to his bigger blue self.

“Hey Parker! What the hell am I supposed to say now?” Miles saw the video, and laughed a bit internally at his human self claiming that he of course wouldn’t die. Because yeah right, he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t because the original Miles Quaritch died. Like the rest of the recombinants, he obviously didn’t know how he died, but knowing those savages it hadn’t been pretty. Though he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you, his reason for fighting so hard, all so that he could give you a safe and comfortable future. He prayed that those savages hadn’t even as much as breathed in your presence. And he prayed that before his demise he had said those three little words that he never could muster up the courage to say, and most of all he hoped that both of you were safe.

A few days later found Miles meeting General Ardmore, and Miles had to remind himself that he was never one for punching people and that his mama had raised him better than that, but damn that woman just rubbed him the wrong way. Well technically everyone at the base did, they all looked at them like one would look at a freakshow, and while Miles could understand in some way, it still annoyed him.

The meeting with the general resulted in her wanting him and his squad of big blue misfits to fly out and look for the traitor Jake Sully, the man who was at fault for everything in his life ending wrong. The team landed in the Pandoran jungle, and Miles felt weird the moment he stepped out of the helicopter, but on the looks of the rest of the time he was not alone. They trekked through the jungle for a bit and had already had the displeasure of seeing some of the monsters living in the jungle. They were all highly alert, every sound made their ears twitch, and their tail were whipping around. “Ouch Fike, control your fucking tail!” Hissed Zdinarsk.

“Oh sorry have I made her highness sad?” Fiked replied mockingly and hit Zdinarsk with his tail once more.

“You little-“

“Hey! Stop acting like young cadets and get the fuck moving. We are in the middle or a hostile environment, so we don’t have time for this kindergarten bullshit” Quaritch quickly got his recombs under control, but he could already feel a vein popping out on his forehead. Suddenly Quaritch caught something out of the corner of his eye, it looked like one of those science shack outposts and in front of it a little away there was lying something metallic covered by roots, and moss and Miles had a feeling he knew what this was and who it belonged to, so it was a surprised when he bend down a removed the roots that his last name was ‘staring’ him right back in the face, and when he looked in the suit, he was met with a skeleton with two arrows protruding from its or rather his chest, he touched the arrows, before standing up and inspecting the inside of the shack thing, and then he turned to Lyle, “Lyle see if you can pull some data of that dashcam.”

The recoms continued patrolling for awhile and Miles couldn’t believe his luck, when he and his squad caught little savages snooping around. And not only savages but halfbreeds with four fingers and a thumb meaning that they were his. And of course, after being given the finger by a male halfbreed, he turned to the human boy with blue stripes painted all over his body. “What’s your name kid?”

“Spider… Socorro.”

No. No it couldn’t be.

Quaritch kneeled so that he could be more eye to eye with the boy.

“Miles?”

Taglist:

@ratchetprime211 @mechformers @iwishiwas-anita

#miles quaritch #miles quaritch imagine #miles quaritch x reader #avatar way of water

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abeautylives · 7 months ago

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Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 2

author’s note: The word "skivvies" means underwear. Apparently not everyone knows that lol

pairing: female!OCxjake

time frame: 2014-2016

word count: 7k this part

warnings: language, more teenage angst, illicit substance use, underage drinking, mentions of sex and sexual situations, fingering, angry Sam

I was serious when I said I couldn’t show my face at the Kiszka household for a while.

Sam showed up at my front door the next afternoon, and immediately started making fun of me for being rejected by his brother.

“Oh Joshy, why won’t you kiss me?!” Complete with immature kissy sounds and puppy dog eyes.

I could only wonder what Josh had told him happened. He wouldn’t tell me. Menace.

It was one thing to hang out with Sam so soon after the incident, but there was no way I could be around Josh. Or even Jake.

The more I thought about that night (which was a lot), the more I over-analyzed Jake’s reaction to his twin cozying up to me.

Was I crazy to think that he was mad at me? Or at Josh? The look on his face had been murderous (it got even more murdery every time I thought about it). Had I imagined that?

Because I’m the luckiest girl on earth, I didn’t have to wait that long to find out.

After three weeks of avoiding their house all together, Sam convinced me to come by for a smoke sesh in the garage. Same as always, the usual, totally casual. I knocked twice on the door and let myself in, sat on the old throw rug right next to Sam, joined the rotation with Danny on the couch across from me and Sam to my left. Around and round it went, while I refused to meet the eyes of anyone in the room but Sammy.

Jake sat upon his ugly floral throne and Josh was tucked into the corner of the couch beside him. I risked peeking up at them, back and forth, whenever I knew they weren’t paying attention.

They were so different. More different than I had ever realized, but Josh seemed okay - a little quiet but he smiled easily and laughed freely. I don’t think Jake even glanced in my direction once, but I was too scared to look at him for too long, so who knows.

Eventually, Sam smoked too much. He did this almost every time, you’d think he’d have figured it out by then. He laid himself flat out on the cement floor and dozed off, so I asked Danny to toss me one of the dingy throw pillows from the couch.

“Here, stupid.” I shoved Sam’s shoulder and he stirred enough to lift his head, I stuffed the pillow underneath it. He went out like a light.

Jake chose the moment Sam passed out to stand from the chair. He stayed there for a second, and I could see him from the corner of my eye. Just standing there, like a total weirdo! So yeah, I looked up at him. Don’t you worry, he was already looking down at me and our eyes locked. Of course they did.

His expression was pretty neutral but made me feel squirmy anyway, so I blinked and looked at Josh instead. You guessed it, he was already looking at me too! Except he’s perfectly lovely and sweet, so he grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Come grab some snacks with me, Tiny.”

Nope, Josh didn’t say that. I nearly snapped my neck jerking my head back up to Jake. “C’mon, T.”

When we were still in middle school, Sam and I would sometimes watch reruns of The Twilight Zone, have you ever seen that show? Each episode was a story about some seriously weird and disturbing shit, alternate realities.

This was like that. I had entered the Twilight Zone.

Josh was my only option for help, so I obviously looked over at Danny instead. He was melting into the couch again, lightweight.

“Let’s go.” This Jake was freaking me out. I mean, he didn’t talk to me much under normal circumstances, but he definitely never asked me to go anywhere with him. Let alone demanded it.

“Okay!” Once again, I embarrassed myself under this roof. My voice came out strained and squeaky. Let’s blame it on the dry mouth.

He skirted around the chair and out the side door, and my body just got up to follow him. Traitor! I stepped over Sam and before I made it to the door, Josh’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

“Hey, you okay?”

Ugh, he’s so perfect.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine but he’s being so weird, right?” Right?!

“He is. He’s been kinda weird for a couple weeks, even with me. But uh… Good luck in there, missed you around here.” He released his hold on my wrist and chuckled. Traitor!

My possible friendship with Josh was tenuous at best, but I was considering a forever type of silent treatment after this betrayal. I sucked a few deep breaths into my lungs before I walked into the house, and when I made it to the kitchen, Jake was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t even pulled any snacks out. He lifted his eyes to me as I walked in, and did that flippy thing with the hair that always flopped over them.

“What’s up Biebs?” He hated that (he and Sam both did, it was great), and I knew he hated that, but he was getting on my nerves with his attention, with his demands. I could see the hate written all over his face, but I crossed the kitchen and leaned into the counter across from him. Then I matched his wide-legged stance, crossed my arms, and scowled. We stared at each other for a beat, my underarms started to sweat before he responded.

“Where have you been the last few weekends?”

What do you mean he’d noticed I hadn’t been here? Was he for real?

“Uhh, I’ve been around, I guess. What do you care?”

“You avoiding us, Tiny?” He adjusted his stance, straightening up to his full height (a whopping half inch taller than me - what is it with these guys?) but kept his arms across his chest. His hair had fallen back into his eyes and he flipped it away, and I just stared at him in silence. “Something happen the last time you were here?”

What do you know, dickhead?

“Like what, Jacob?” I smoothed out the scowl from between my eyebrows and batted my lashes at him. I’m so innocent! He did not like it. His arms dropped to his sides and he pushed himself away from the counter. In less than a second he was standing right in front of me. In a fraction of that, he had leaned in close, the tip of his nose nearly touching mine. I tried to back away, arching my back over the edge of the counter, but he moved in further.

Now my back was sweating.

“Did you fool around with my brother?”

Jesus. His question breezed over my lips and his words shot straight to my gut. It wasn’t like the soft caress of Josh’s voice asking what I was doing when I’d been begging him to kiss me. This wasn’t like that at all.

“Uh-“ Yeah yeah, I had to clear my throat. I think I stopped breathing. “Who? Sammy? Gross, dude.”

Deflect! Deflect!

“Did you fuck Josh, T?”

WHAT?!

I pushed him away from me. I couldn’t breathe!

“What the hell are you talking about, Jake? Of course I didn’t… do that!” I’d never done that, with anyone, had he lost his mind?

“Then why is he acting so weird? And why haven’t you been here since that night?” He really seemed surprised that I hadn’t fu- had sex with Josh on the couch in the garage. What kind of girl did he take me for?

“Ask him yourself, asshole!”

“I did! Multiple times! He won’t say shit and says you guys are just friends, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been too chicken-shit to show your face!”

Why was he so close to me again? I put a palm squarely in the middle of his chest, ready to push his ass to the floor if I had to, but he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and squeezed. Kinda hard.

“My own brother won’t tell me the truth and it’s your fault.” He pushed my hand back into my own chest. “What did you do to him?”

I was truly at a loss for words, so I uttered a few that I honestly had never said to anyone before. Not even Sam.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

But he didn’t even move! His face sort of twisted up, like he was confused, but I don’t think I could have been any more clear.

“Grow up, Tiny.”

Ugh, when did he learn how to push all my buttons? “You grow up, and mind your own business you creep. What, are you jealous I kissed Josh and not you?”

You should’ve seen it, seriously. You had to be there. He sprung away from me like I’d electrocuted him.

“You are! Oh this is hilarious, you’re jealous.” I had to say it, the look on his face was a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. I couldn’t believe it. “Do you like me Jake? Huh? You wanna kiss me Jake?”

There’s no excuse for that one. I still don’t know why I said it. But then, ohhhh then, he rushed back into my space, wrapped both hands around the base of my skull, and slammed his lips against mine.

See? Luckiest girl on earth.

A lot of things happened in a span of a very few seconds.

The weight of his body pushed me into the counter pretty hard, but I barely registered the pain. My first reaction was obviously shock, confusion, but it quickly turned into acceptance and my lips went from stiff against his to soft and welcoming.

Yep. I kissed him back.

My hands flew up and wrapped around his wrists, and he actually gripped my hair. I gasped into the kiss and he slipped his tongue into my mouth. He groaned, I moaned and-

“Seriously?!”

We bounced apart like the opposite poles of two magnets. Jake didn’t stop moving backwards until he hit the counter across from me.

“This is seriously fucked up, guys.” Sam stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes red and unfocused, but they landed on me. “Go home, T. I shouldn’t have even asked you to come here.”

Before I could argue or even get upset with him, he turned out of the room and was gone.

I was confused. Very confused. My heart was still beating erratically in my chest and my breaths didn’t feel right either. Of all the people on the planet, I had to look to Jake effing Kiszka for help.

“Jake…” My voice came out small, weak.

For a minute, he just shook his head. My vision went a little blurry.

I am not going to cry in front of another one of these idiots!

“Jake.” Stronger that time, better. “Why did you do that?”

“Why did you?”

“You kissed me first! I-“

“You liked it.”

No, no I did not. I loved it. There was enough potential that I could’ve been smitten with it.

“You’re disgusting.” As I found my voice, I also found some anger. That anger coerced my feet into action, and I found myself toe to toe with him again. I pushed a finger right into his chest, for good measure. “Don’t ever-“

I learned a few things that night. One thing was that Jake was a really terrible listener.

He didn’t grab me again, he didn’t crowd me or slam his mouth to mine. He just leaned forward and let his lips hover over mine. That shut me up real quick.

“You sure, T?” Ugh, he whispered. And it was sexy, and seductive.

Another thing I learned that night was that Jake was a real prick.

Because he whispered those words across my lips, wrapped his hands around my upper arms and spun us around, backed me into the counter…

And walked away.

With all that being said, that might have been the night I started falling for Jake Kiszka. But I don’t really remember.

Sam didn’t speak a word to me for six days.

He was really mad at me! Or at least I figured he was, since he sent me away and said I never should have been there to begin with. And he ignored all my texts. And calls. Shit, I even emailed him once.

I passed him in the halls at school all week, tried to catch his attention from a distance, watched him purposefully look past me, or through me each time.

I had really fucked up.

On the seventh day, he gave it a rest. A full week since incident #2, he texted me.

sammy: I’m sorry too

That was it. I had apologized a hundred unanswered times, pleaded with him to just talk to me, for a week. After so much silent treatment, I didn’t really know how to address it.

Me: my dad wants me to stay with him for the summer

That was true. My dad always wanted me to stay with him for the summer, but I usually chose to stay home and traded out the other, shorter holiday breaks with him. I hadn’t seriously been considering it, until incident #2.

sammy: In Traverse? Are you gonna go?

Me: yeah.

What did you expect me to say? I needed to get out of the bubble that was our town and away from all the testosterone. Granted, Traverse City is only like three hours away, but that was pretty far for a kid with no license.

Sam didn’t text me back. I was glad I was leaving.

School let out for the summer and my dad picked me up that weekend. Traverse City isn’t all that different from home, aside from triple the population. There’s plenty to do outdoors - beaches and trails - but my dad didn’t exactly provide the same kind of company as Sam.

When you’re running free with your best friend, the break never seems long enough. This was the longest summer I could remember, but by early July Sam and I were back on regular speaking terms. We texted all the time, and eventually accepted each other’s apologies.

But after not hearing from him at all before I left town, the first time he reached out was not all that fun.

sammy: Can I ask you a question

Me: shoot

sammy: Why did it have to be my brothers?

Me: …

Me: what do you mean

sammy: You could make out with ANYONE else

sammy: Why them?

So Josh did tell him something.

Me: Josh told you we kissed?

sammy: That’s not an answer.

The truth? You know the truth. I started crushing on Josh sometime between his bare chest at Fischer Hall and the skintight jeans with the peace sign patch on the ass that he started wearing later that summer.

But I still didn’t know what the hell had happened with Jake.

Me: i already said i was sorry sam. I. AM. SORRY.

Me: i really did like josh… he doesn’t like me back

Me: but i DID NOT KISS JAKE!!! He kissed ME and i have no clue why

Me: I DO NOT LIKE HIM, I HATE HIM

Look, I rarely lied to Sam. I had no reason to. But that text? That was a big fat lie.

How could I tell him that not only did I not hate Jake, I liked kissing Jake. I wanted to kiss Jake again. I wanted to learn how he did it, what his moves were, what made him-

No. Couldn’t tell baby brother all that. So I lied, and I avoided at all costs.

Back to the best of friends by August, Sam was waiting in my driveway the day my dad dropped me off. We spent the last week of the summer attached at the hip again, but I didn’t step foot in his house for a very long time.

The Friday after my eighteenth birthday, Sammy threw me a party. That I didn’t ask for.

I rarely hung out with him at his own house anymore, and if I did it was only when I knew for certain that Jake wasn’t home.

Josh and I had developed a sort of friendly relationship over the last couple years, stemming from a run-in at a movie theater. I was on a date (it went terribly), Josh was on a date (I asked him about it later and yes, that guy liked him back!), we fumbled awkwardly through hellos and introductions. He told me he missed seeing me around.

Those five words were enough to convince me that it would be okay to go to the house if he was there.

But not Jake. Never Jake.

So imagine my utter shock and horror when I knocked twice on the garage door, slipped underneath it, and found the room packed full of people.

“SURPRISE!!!”

Fuck me, right? No one likes surprise parties. I particularly hate them. Especially when I’m standing there like an idiot, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, taking in an unexpected mass of people and my stupid eyes lock on Jake stupid Kiszka.

And he smirked. Asshole.

“I’m not ready to leave you.”

Despite the garage full of our friends, I still ended up on Sam’s lap in the ugly chair, a little buzzed and kind of weepy. I tucked my face into his shoulder.

Don’t judge me. I’d already done a few hours worth of dancing, laughing and drinking. And avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. It was exhausting.

He shrugged off my concerns. “When I’m famous, you can just drop out and come on tour with us.” He raised his beer up to me, so I tapped mine against it. Cheers to adulthood, I guess.

“You better get famous, you dick. Or even better, fail miserably and come live in Ann Arbor with me.”

In a month, I was graduating. It's not like I was leaving for college right away, but the reality of being eighteen was weighing on me. Sam’s reality was even heavier.

The fucking band was getting noticed. Being seen. What was I gonna do if they took off, if he left me and Michigan behind?

“Cheer up, T. This is supposed to be a party.” He squeezed me with the arm wrapped around my waist.

“Yeah yeah. I’m fine… I’m just gonna miss you.”

He was really great sometimes, my best friend. He reached down and sat his beer on the floor, then wrapped both arms around me. “I’ll miss you too, you know that.”

I let my eyes close for a minute and just enjoyed it, then sighed heavily against his neck. “Okay, sorry for the pity party. Let me up, I gotta pee.”

A few people were lingering in the kitchen when I made it into the house, they all raised their drinks and yelled happy birthday as I passed through. In the upstairs bathroom, I could hear when they filtered back outside, the house falling silent. I gave myself a little pep talk in the mirror before I left.

Get it together, woman. Have a good time, enjoy the fucking summer. Grow. Up.

Good talk, I know.

When I hit the bottom of the stairs, I heard the refrigerator open. As I turned into the kitchen, someone was still standing there, hidden by the door.

But I knew who it was.

The fridge door swung closed and there he was. And we were alone.

Not this shit again.

I wasn’t gonna do it, I wasn’t gonna do anything. I swear. But I kept moving to pass him and leave the room, and he stuck an arm out and stopped me in my tracks.

“Just let me go, Jake.” See? I had zero interest in this! I didn’t even look at him. Ya know, until he physically turned my body to face him. He had the nerve to smile.

“Happy birthday, T.” Thank God he didn’t whisper it, he was so good at whispering.

“Yeah, thanks. See ya.” I tried to leave again, but he put both hands on me and kept me facing him, toe to toe. Another showdown in the Kiszka kitchen.

“Don’t be like that.”

Oh, how I hated him in that moment. Everything came back, the confusion, the anger I felt the last time we’d been here. When he basically accused me of being a slut right before accusing me of wanting him. And being right about it.

I shook his hands off my arms and took a step back. “No. No, I’m not doing this again.” I turned to leave again, and he caught me by the wrist.

“What are you talk-“

“Stop! Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

“Tiny, I really-“

“Don’t call me that, and don’t act like you don’t know exactly why I have avoided you for two fucking years.”

Maybe it was my expression, or maybe it was the tone of my voice, I’ll never know but he dropped my wrist and actually managed to look guilty.

“Exactly. Bye, Jake.”

I made it to the doorway. If I had just been moving faster, I would’ve missed it and probably never experienced what happened next.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s no way I’d heard that right. It spun me around where I stood.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry, about that night.”

I waited for the ground to open up and swallow us, or a meteor to blast through the ceiling. Surely the world was ending. Nothing happened.

“Really. What exactly are you sorry for, hm? Why exactly do you think I hate you?”

“You hate me?” I’m sure you can imagine, but yes, he had the audacity to look surprised by that information. It pissed me off.

“Get real, Jake.” I moved closer. “Get fucking real. Tell me what you’re apologizing for, go ahead. What part of that night are you sorry for?” By the time I was done, I was all up in his space and he looked uncomfortable.

Good.

“I’m sorry I accused you of sleeping with Josh.”

The big bad anger deflated, but only a little. I really hadn’t expected him to acknowledge that.

“You accused a sixteen year old virgin of fucking your brother on a dirty couch in your garage.” He literally cringed. I get it, it sounded bad. Because it was.

“That was really shitty of me-“

“You think?!”

“Let me finish,” His hands were on me again, wrapped around my upper arms. “Please.”

All I could do was nod. That please is what did it. He really seemed to feel bad, and I was believing it.

“I said that out of anger, T. I knew something happened out there, and Josh was all fucked up about it after. He wouldn’t talk to me, and he tells me everything.” My shoulders shook with the force of that word. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

My mind was reeling, grasping for the meaning he intended. I shook my head.

“We’re twins, we don’t have secrets. I thought you either forced him to do something he didn’t want to, or you… were mean to him. Judged him.”

It dawned on me, clear as day.

“You knew.”

He tipped his chin and nodded, just once.

“I don’t- then what about the rest? I called you jealous, but it had nothing to do with that. But you were!”

He nodded again. My resolve crumbled.

“Why did you kiss me?” I whispered it, but I wasn’t trying to be sexy, or seductive.

“Because I was jealous. And I wanted to.”

Gulp.

“I’m really sorry that I hurt your feelings. I never wanted you to hate me.”

“What did you want?”

As you can imagine, that question sealed my fate.

“Just you.”

My back was against the refrigerator before he even finished breathing the words. This time, there was no moment of shock, I wasn’t confused, and my lips were not stiff.

His hands slid up my arms and into my hair, and he tilted my head. My mouth opened for him, and I gripped the front of his t-shirt for dear life.

Remember when I told you that by sixteen, I had kissed plenty? That was true. By eighteen, I’d kissed plenty more.

But this kiss was going to ruin me, and I knew it.

He let a hand slip from my hair and ran it down the length of my body, past my shoulder, over my ribs and the small of my waist, then he tucked it between me and the fridge and flattened it to my lower back. And pulled my hips into his.

Oh my god. He did want me, I could feel the evidence of that pressed against me.

“Jake.” I broke the kiss but his lips kept moving, he tilted my head further and ran kisses over my cheek, my jaw. “Jake.”

“Mm?” His hips ground into mine, he didn’t take his lips off of me.

“What- fuck, what are we doing?” My hands flattened against his chest and pushed, just a little, and he finally lifted his face.

His breath was coming quickly, I could feel it under my palms. “What do you wanna do, T?”

My brain raced toward an answer, past all the reasons we shouldn’t do what I wanted to do. There’s still a party going on in the garage, Sam is waiting there for me to come back from the bathroom, this is a bad idea, this is Jake, Sam may never forgive me for this.

“Can we- should we… go somewhere else?” Yeah, that’s what my brain landed on.

“You sure?” The memory of that same question, two years ago, rushed in and I knew that if he walked away from me this time, I would never get over it.

“I’m sure.”

He didn’t stop to reconsider or question my decision, just took my hand and led me back to the stairs. We rushed to the second floor, not leaving time to second guess or re-evaluate. He practically dragged me into his room, slammed the door behind us and locked it.

I didn’t bother looking around, it was dark anyway but I didn’t want to think too hard about what was happening. I just let him push me towards a bed and fell into it. He tore his shirt over his head and covered my body and mouth with his.

My legs opened and he settled between them, immediately grinding into me. This was happening, and it was happening fast. Our mouths were securely attached, so I wriggled beneath him, tugging the hem of my shirt up. As soon as he caught on to what I was doing he took over the task, sliding a hand up under my shirt and touching my bare skin for the first time.

“Fucking hell, T.” God, his voice was ragged, he was literally panting as he leaned back to use both hands, spreading his palms over my stomach, my ribcage, skimming over the sides of my breasts and up until my shirt was over my head and thrown to the floor.

For a minute we just stared at each other, our heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

He had changed so little and so much in the last two years. Physically, his hair had grown long, hanging to his shoulders instead of flipping across his forehead. His cockiness had transformed into confidence, and his actions up to this moment had been firm and self-assured. As we took each other in, I wondered what changes he saw in me.

Did he see a woman that night, pinned to his mattress by his eyes? At sixteen, I’d tried so hard to convince all of them that I was grown - could he see the ways that I had?

“You’re so fucking hot.” Okay, yeah it wasn’t poetry or anything, but his words pulsed through my bloodstream and settled between my thighs. Something like a whine slipped from the back of my throat, and suddenly we were moving in fast motion. He covered me again, but his kiss landed on my jaw, then below my ear, then the base of my throat. As it passed my collarbone I tangled my hands into his hair. He’d propped himself up on an elbow and the other hand slid up my ribs again then covered my breast.

I wish I could remember what my bra even looked like that night, but it hadn’t seemed like he cared.

He squeezed me softly, I moaned, he squeezed harder. Then his fingers tugged the top of the cup down, and for the first time, a part of me was truly naked in front of Jake Kiszka.

There was only a fleeting moment where he lifted his head and looked at my chest, bared to him, my nipple already hard and aching for his attention - then he dropped his mouth over it and sucked it in.

My back arched off the bed and he sucked me in deeper, his tongue swirling around my nipple before he softly put his teeth on it.

“Yes.” I hardly recognized my own voice, but he must have recognized the need or the urgency in it, because he applied just a tiny bit of pressure, and bit me. “Yes!”

His head popped up and his eyes met mine. “Fuck, you liked that?”

Was that weird? Was I not supposed to? I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded. It prompted him to pull the other side of my bra down and treat my other nipple to the same affection, so I guessed it was the right answer.

We were writhing together, friction between our hips and my hands holding his head to my chest until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Jake, kiss me, please…”

Somewhere along the line, he’d become a better listener. His lips slotted over mine and he kissed me deeply, I felt it everywhere. Until his hand started fumbling with the button of my jeans. It popped open and he slid the zipper down. Just as his fingers danced over the edge of my underwear, he paused.

Against my mouth he whispered, “Yes?”

I nodded frantically, breaking the kiss.

“Say it, T.”

“Yes.”

Fingers slid over cotton and tucked themselves between my legs, and my entire body shuddered. He dropped his gaze to where he was touching me as he pressed them into me and slid them up my center, catching on my clit. I jolted at the contact.

“Jesus Christ.”

Had I surprised him? Done something wrong? Why was he pulling his hand away- oh.

His hand slipped out of my jeans only long enough to slide under the waist of my panties, then it disappeared inside them.

Jake Kiszka had his fingers on my actual, bare-

You get it.

Again, they pressed into me and then through me, I could feel the way my body offered no resistance, slick and easy.

“You- you’re so…” His voice trailed off, but I needed to know. What was I? What was he thinking?

“What, Jake?” I sounded breathy, my voice coming out shaky and quiet. He looked up into my eyes.

“You’re so wet.” He sounded stunned, awe lacing his tone.

My throat closed, I swallowed hard. Embarrassment made my chest hot and I opened my mouth to say something. I’m sorry? But my mouth snapped shut because he moved his fingers through the wetness again and groaned, deep and low, before tracing up to my clit again and circling it.

He continued to watch my face, I think. I’m not sure, because my eyes slammed shut as my body bowed into the feeling, but it seemed like he was watching all of my reactions closely. I’m sure he saw my face drop when his fingers left my clit, only to see my jaw fall open when one moved lower and pushed inside me slowly.

Inside. Me. My eyes shot open and found him staring at me, nostrils flared.

“Relax, T. You’re so tight.”

Was that bad? I pulled a deep breath into my lungs, in through my nose and out through trembling lips. Tried my hardest to relax every muscle, but I was wound so tight I felt like I would implode.

I must have done something right, because his finger slid deeper and he murmured the worst thing I’d ever heard.

“That’s good, good girl.”

In hindsight, I know he wasn’t even trying to be sexy. But my body tightened around his finger again and he started to withdraw it. I panicked, gripped his wrist and dug my nails in just as he pushed all the way inside.

“God!” I couldn’t help it, the invasion was overwhelming me.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He was pumping it inside me now. “Tell me what you want.” Focus made his features look so serious, but his voice was calm and coaxing. I had no fucking clue what to say.

So I said the first thing that popped into my head.

“More.” He smiled, his mouth curling up at the corners. I felt him withdraw his finger all the way, gasped as he swirled two over my clit, then entered me again with both.

“Jesus, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

So good, so good. That’s good. I let myself relax into his touch and within a few seconds my hips were moving in time with his fingers. My bottom lip was held tight between my teeth as I tried not to let any of the sounds building in my throat escape. He noticed.

His face came close, he pecked a kiss to my cheek then whispered into my ear. “Let me hear you, just be quiet.”

I really had no choice, because as soon as the words left his mouth, he pressed his thumb to my clit and plunged his fingers deep.

“Shit Jake, yes yes yes…”

Still next to my ear, he tucked his face into my neck and kissed me there before making his way back to my lips. His tongue swept out over my bottom lip and I opened to him, let him in. My eyes fluttered closed.

Then I felt it, a tightening, low in my belly. A tingling even lower. I don’t know what I did that signaled to him, but he knew.

“Are you gonna come for me?” He asked between kisses. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

I didn’t have to. All it took was a few more pumps of his fingers, a couple circles with his thumb, and I had my first orgasm.

Trust me when I tell you, it was a doozy.

My entire body tensed, my back arched and my mouth opened. Thank God I couldn’t hear myself over the buzz in my head because I’m sure the sound I made was mortifying, but it didn’t matter. As quickly as it had gripped me, it started to fade away. Things came back into focus and I felt Jake’s fingers softly moving in shallow strokes before they stopped and he pulled them from me.

“Wow.”

Who said that? Oh, it was Jake. I peeked up at him and his eyes were wide, almost black in the darkness. Then he pulled his hand from my pants and stood up so quickly, I was sure I’d done something wrong. I shot up to sit and had barely planted my feet on the floor when I heard his belt buckle clink. The shuffle of his shoes across the carpet as he toed them off his feet. The soft swish of denim falling down his legs and hitting the floor, more shuffling and he stepped out of his jeans.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I didn’t even have time to truly panic, because he stepped back up to the bed and leaned down, kissing me briefly on the lips before using his hands to guide me backwards, laying across his bed again. He reached for the waist of my pants and, already undone, started to slide them off of my hips. I let him pull them down my legs until they got stuck at my shoes.

He chuckled. I giggled, nervously. He slipped my shoes off then tugged my jeans from my feet. I shifted and sat back up.

And there I was. Looking at Jake Kiszka in nothing but his skivvies and socks, and myself wearing much of the same. Except my tits were out, the cups of my bra pushing them up from underneath.

Jake must have sensed my nerves, because he asked me if I was still sure. I nodded and he demanded to hear it out loud.

“Yes.”

He turned to his nightstand, rummaged blindly through the drawer, and when he straightened he slipped his thumbs under the elastic waistband of his underwear.

Then they hit the floor.

And there I was. Looking at Jake Kiszka in nothing but his socks.

My cheeks exploded with heat and I was grateful that he couldn’t see me blushing in the dark, but I must have made a face, or a noise, because he was poised to tear open the condom wrapper and he stopped.

“Are you okay?”

Oh shit, what did I do?

“Um-“ Cleared my throat. “I- yeah. Yes. Sorry. I’ve just, never done this before.”

“Ha ha, T. For real, what’s wrong?”

Ha ha? I wasn’t laughing.

“Nothing. It’s fine, I just haven’t ever…” It trailed off, because there was something wrong with the way he was looking at me.

“Fuck. You gotta be kidding me.” Ouch.

His arms dropped to his sides, condom packet still between the first two fingers of his left hand. He flicked it away, it skimmed the surface of the nightstand and fell behind it.

No, no no no.

“What? What are you doing?” There it was, a little bit of that panic, finally allowed to bloom under my skin. He bent and stepped back into his boxer briefs and pulled them up. My own semi-nudity suddenly felt shameful, so I tugged the cups of my bra back up to cover my breasts. “Jake, I still want th-“

“No. I can’t, T. You’re still a virgin?”

Was I crazy, because I hadn’t seen anything wrong with that before this exact moment? He stepped back into his jeans and started pulling them up.

I reached out to stop him, a hand on his wrist. “Yeah, but who cares? It’s not that big of-“

“I care!” He ripped his arms away from me, pulled his pants up and fastened them. He continued as he started plucking my own clothes from the floor and shoving them into my shaking arms. “I can’t do that, I can’t be your first. I can’t fucking believe this.”

The first tear slipped and ran down my cheek, and I swiped it away, frustrated. “You’re overreacting, Jake. Why are you-“

He cut me off again. “How could you not tell me? What if I, if I had- God.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to!” I jerked my shirt over my head and shoved my arms through the sleeves. “Why would you think I wasn’t?!” Pulled my jeans over my feet and up my legs.

“Because Sam told me!”

My fingers stopped buttoning my pants, my head jerked up. “What?!”

“Sam said he thought you were fucking that idiot you dated last year, when you weren’t coming around for like a month. He-“

“I’m gonna kill him. That’s it, I’m finally gonna actually kill him.”

Jake threw his arms up. “What was I supposed to think, T? With the way you were kissing me, and- and- you weren’t acting like a virgin!”

“Because you still think I’m some kind of slut, Jake? Is that it? Oh my God I’m so stupid.” I fastened my jeans and pulled my shoes on, then shoulder checked him on my way to the door.

It felt good, okay?

He was right behind me, forgetting his shoes and pulling his shirt on as he followed me down the stairs, but I didn’t stop. I bolted through the kitchen and outside, then into the garage.

A lot of people had left and I found Sam immediately, strewn across one end of the couch. He was probably crossfaded and ready to pass out, but he popped up as soon as he saw my face.

“Tiny, where have you been? What’s wrong-“ Jake stormed into the garage behind me, and even through hooded, bleary eyes, Sam put some pieces together. Or tried to.

I was trying desperately not to cry, and I’m sure I looked it. I could feel how kiss-swollen my lips were, and I guessed that Jake’s looked the same. Add in the fucked up bed hair, and then two tears that slipped free and ran down my face.

“What the fuck did you do..”

But Sam wasn’t talking to me. He was looking past me.

“What did you do?!”

The few of our friends that were left lingering in the garage were all staring at us.

“Party’s over! GET OUT!” I flinched. I’d never heard Sam yell, not in anger. Everyone jumped and hustled through the side door until we were alone, and Sam took one deep breath before speaking.

“T, come here, are you okay?”

I didn’t move, just nodded my head and wiped furiously at my cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine, I- I just wanted to tell you I was leaving.” He came to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

“What did you do?” I knew he was speaking to Jake, still standing silently behind me.

“Sam, I don’t know what you’re thinking but-“

“Why is she fucking crying?”

I broke free of his hold and stopped him. “Sam, it’s okay. I’m fine, I swear. I’m going home.” I grabbed my bag from the floor beside the couch and flung it over my shoulder, lifted the garage door and slipped out.

I didn’t stop running until I reached my driveway.

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut #jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #sam kiszka #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfic #sam gvf

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maykitz · 1 year ago

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watched a popular movie so there's a mandatory my complaints and opinions longpost

barbie is a decent comedy with great visuals for sure but i have to say the social justice dialogue was written unbearably, felt like a 2012 bad tumblr post that wouldn't end. the real shame however is that imo the movie refused to take itself seriously even for a minute at crucial moments while making its entire plot about serious things, so it was like, okay, then what's the point.. you're saying patriarchy every other sentence and talking about the incredible pressure on women and having to deal with sexual harassment etc but every single scene is played like we're in beverly hills chihuahua. yes it's a comedy naturally but firstly comedy doesn't have to mean lowbrow slapstick all the time and secondly beverly hills chihuahua understands that it can't have those dogs be talking about abortion and fighting the islamic state with little pink paw pad drones, yknow?

the parody of male identity and masculinity was overall very lacklustre and disappointing too cause it had no bite, it was more like when south park depicts a celebrity as an adult baby- trite and kinda childish and with that air of smugness that tells you the author thinks too highly of themself to even need to flesh it out. which sucks! there's so much about men to satirise and roast lol. gosling is comparably quite old and there wasn't even one hairline or forehead wrinkles comment. sort of a haha gay joke about michael cera's comedic relief character ig? and will ferrell's character could've been wholly scrapped idk what he was even doing there tbh

the big inspiring message about female empowerment, too, is a little bit undercut (haters would say demolished) by there being no bulldagger barbie (or human), margot robie's miraculous powerful ending being that she now dresses and looks exactly like as a doll except her pink shoes are now flats and there's also a breakfast club tier makeover on a teen girl who hates barbie and talks like an sjw courtesy of plebcomics to show that she is now instead happy and pink and loves barbie. and even tho there's 1 fat barbie side character and 1 background wheelchair barbie the topic of unrealistic body proportions (the #1 complaint against barbie dolls!) and beauty pressure is entirely carefully omitted. there's a moment where a narrator coyly acknowledges this like, hehe margot robie is too pretty a casting choice to make this point about feeling ugly. yeah ok but, well. you still did it though. and every other actress too. they even ditched "weird" barbie's destroyed choppy hair + sharpie on face appearance for a put together "punk" outfit with flawless makeup and styled hair. even the destroyed toy can't forego her feminine beauty makeover, and it's only then that the other barbies apologise for ostracising her. big win for looking however you want.

ryan gosling was fantastic though i was really surprised by his singing voice and performance. and i cannot overstate my praise for the costuming and set designs, actual artistry all around

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trills-n-clicks · 7 months ago

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Captain Trilps "Spider" Locket

Mainly going by Spider, but Trilps by close friends in private, she's the captain of TF Arach.

NONE OF THIS INFORMATION IS OF ACTUAL PEOPLE, SOME DETAILS ARE TAKEN FROM MYSELF BUT IT IS NOT BASED ON ME!!!

TF Arach Masterlist

DOB: August 27th, 1987. [36 years old]

Relationships: ↓

Livia Locket- Wife <alive> {Took Trilps last name}

Dorothy Locket- Mother <dead>

Anderson Millard- Father <dead>

/////// ///////- Uncle (Fathers side) <alive> {he's bed ridden :'(}

//////// Locket- Nephew (Mother's side) <alive>

Alice /////////- Niece (Fathers side) <alive>

Renee Locket-Millard- Brother <alive>

Sally Millard- Sister <alive>

Molly ////////- Goddaughter <dead>

Physical details: ↓

Head: Dark brown, collarbone height, kinda wavy (1C-2A) hair(she tucks he bangs behind her ears, otherwise they would be flat bangs hanging low). Dark indigo downturned and close-set eyes. Bulbous nose with a slight upturn. She has a heavy lower lip and a rounded square face shape.

Body: Mesomorphic, Apple shape. Large hips smaller bust, kinda like a Mama bod, my queen 🥺

Marks (scars, birthmarks, tattoos, missing limbs, etc.): Her left leg has a sleeve tattoo from half up thigh to ankle, designs are about flowers, chains, ice(trauma~~) and some little hints of hospital equipment used in a virus ward(gloves, goggles, hazard stuff etc.). She has no birthmark. She's got some scarring from cuts on her forearms and calves from interrogations and torture, Hypothermia scarring across her shoulder blades, down her back and bit and up her nape from her childhood(her mother was a bitch). A scar across her nose from a narrowly missed bullet. And a dot on her lower forehead(Taken from Chim in the LA 911 tv show) from a building collapse. Her only missing limb is a chunk of her right ear from bomb shrapnel. She has dimple piercings and a belly button ring.

Other (height & weight stuff, skintone, nationality, etc.): Her skintone is white with a slight tan, freckles and moles scattered about. She's Australian and has a strong origin in America, CA. He parents were from there and moved before she was conceived, so she was growing up in Australia. She is 6'1" (1.84m) and weighs 198lbs (89.8 kg). The only way I can describe her clothing style is simply grandma core, ugly sweaters, gardening cargo pants, and she loves her wood pendant jewelry. Keeps one on the chain with her dog tags.

Personality details: ↓

She's an open pansexual but is not on the ace or around spectrum. She is a cis woman, but struggles with gender dysphoria sometimes. She finds light purples like lavender quite pretty but will not admit that if there's a pretty red dress, she will try it on. Outside people describe her as passive aggressive, fast paced in both mind and body, and sweet. People she knows well however, describe her as snarky, a great topic changer, and loving. She is an ambivert, meaning basically that she needs interaction to function but needs isolation as well or else she begins disassociating and that never turns out well (haha trauma :') ). She's a bit of a picky eater and tends to herd towards fruity things like pies or fruit salad (her favorite food). She does have mental disorders, including PTSD and post-stockholm(?) basically she used to have Stockholm Syndrome but was saved and recovered (kinda).

And Military info!: ↓

She joined in 2005 at 18 years old, and was transferred to be in the SNS 5 years after joining. She has skills in Covert ops, Undercover missions, Hand to hand and knife combat, handgun techniques, and hostage rescue. But she has difficulties in longer range combat like sniper techniques, along with being a hostage, and trying to resist brainwashing if her captors know the techniques to use.

Basic picture using gacha (I use it to visualize what they will look like with color)

And I will insert a photo I drew below (it will not have color)

This is her second design as the first was not accurate to the way I saw her

I'm sorry if it's too long, read if you want but you really don't have to, she will be basically described in the fic.

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii #call of duty #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #cod oc art #cod ocs #cod original character #cod oc #mw2 oc #mw2 #mwii #mwii oc #Trill's OCs!

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kiraziwrites · 2 years ago

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First-lines-of-fic meme! I was tagged by the lovely @laiqualaurelote.

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

1. yes, and (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 5.9K)

Jaime’s chopping vegetables, having recently indulged himself in a little light postal crime, when he hears the door of Brienne’s flat swing open with its characteristic squeak.

2. it gets okay to praise the day (The Goblin Emperor/Cemeteries of Amalo, 5.7K)

“Your focus is drifting, Othala Celehar,” Othalo Rasaltezhen murmured, the low sound of her voice jarring me out of my ruminations.

3. wear it like armor (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 2K)

They stumble into the honeymoon suite in Sunspear, laughing and trading kisses in the dim light of the fireworks detonating over the beach, giddy from Dornish wine and delight.

4. Home Waters (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 6.7K)

Jaime turns to face the wind, opening his mouth and letting it fill up his chest the way it fills up the sails, a torrent of air and salt stinging his nose and his eyes—the sensation both clarifying and exhilarating.

5. gasp brightness (Our Flag Means Death, 7.6K)

The rum burns hot on its way down his throat. Ed wishes that it worked the other way around: that he could breathe out fire, like a dragon, and burn this whole sorry fucking excuse for a tavern to the ground.

6. something blue (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 3.8K)

When Jaime hands her the little white bag, a froth of red and gold tissue erupting from its glossy folds, it doesn’t come as a surprise.

7. what happens in Volantis (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 5.3K)

“How about this one?” Brienne asks, heart hammering, holding her phone out to Jaime. She hopes the app doesn’t tell matches how many times you’ve viewed their profile in one day; that might get a little embarrassing.

8. menagerie (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, 2.7K)

The dog starts following them sometime on the ride back to Evenfall.

9. there will be music despite everything (The Goblin Emperor/Cemeteries of Amalo, 5.2K)

Perhaps I should have expected trouble when Min Chonhadrin appeared at my door.

10. this bed thy centre is (Ted Lasso, 6.5K)

By the time they land at Heathrow, there’s not a part of him left that doesn’t ache.

tagging @firesign23, @codswalloping, @mia-ugly, @thebrimmingheart, @destinationtoast, @praycambrian, @pretty-thief, @sdwolfpup, @robotsdance, @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined

#fic meme

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deutoplasmic · 2 months ago

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theyre so valid for that tho i love onsens whenever i go to colder countries 😭

NOT THE RACISM 😭 but yes one day you shall get our wonderful spaghetti 🙏

i have two lil doggies ^^ a westie and a poodle. they are. kinda stupid but i love them

omg adding mj into any au automatically makes it funnier like you and takeru will be having your glare-offs and jin will just cut in like

mj: “so have you two ever kissed to ease the tension”

you and takeru: “WHAT”

mj: “what”

OMG PLS I ACTUALLY HAVE A SKETCH OF FENGFAN LIFTING BAGON UP IN THE AIR 🥹 i need to work on it again

NISHI AND PANCHAM IS SO FUN TOO OMG just him and his lil panda friend causing problems on purpose,,, SYOYA AND A POLIWAG OMG,,, besties even when he becomes a politoed,,, but hear me out,,, ruki and GALARIAN RAPIDASH

please omg tk with his protective streak,,, like someone will mention that milotic used to be ugly and tk will be like “UGLY???? SHE WAS ALWAYS PRETTY!!! SAY THAT AGAIN TO MY FACE”

omg yudai with gardevoir,,, u pretty he pretty u swan he also swan but very loud swan,,,, SUKAI WOULD BE DOING TAKE DOWN RIGHT THERE WITH BELDUM LMAODKJD AND REN WITH A LOPUNNY,,, EVEN BETTER A MEGA LOPUNNY,,, shosei altaria is great imo but hear me out,,, keigo with leavanny and it helps him alter his clothes,,, i also think sho would be perfect with a cilan/chili/cress role of a cook, and his partner would probably be a chatot that helps him remember orders

omg i just end up steaming and feeling like a crab in a pot of water........ you're so strong for surviving onsens 😔🙏 the ones in china are so fancy btw it's crazy.... like you could be in the middle of nowhere and there's probably some bougie hot spring around

listen i take no jurisdiction over his actions .... fun fact australia actually doesn't have a specific policy allowing free speech so you can actually be persecuted if you say smth a bit too silly for the government's taste 🤣 speaking of silly things we have a massive us army base in the middle of the country called pine gap for some reason and once in like the 1970s our pm threatened to shut it down and coincidentally the governor general at the time, who has the ability to kick out a pm at any time iirc, was connected with the us army......... yeah anyways he stepped down as pm LMAO

omg...... omg......... aren't they those scruffy little dogs that most asians have LOL they sound so cute........... the idiocy adds to the charm 🙏 speaking of which dumbass takumi x very smart yn would be very fun.... he tries to cut up an apple with the flat side of the knife and you have to put him straight 🤣

YES omfg he's always doing smth devious but whenever you pull him in for questioning he's like huhhhh what are you talking about i'm just a young impressionable boy up to nothing at all and so you can never pin anything against him LOL on the other hand whenever mame gets a little mischievous you feign ignorance and let him be silly even when the evidence is heavily stacked against him

WISHING YOU SPEED AND MOTIVATION 🙏🙏🙏🙏 it sounds SO CUTE oh my days...... if you do get it done i'd love to see it!!!!!!! idk if you want yn in this one but you can have a little deino that you caught in some cave on holiday once and you and fengfan bond over the shared experience of caring for a dragon pokemon who's too young to fly yet

they're such menaces. if some shenanigans are occurring well it's probably nishi and his pancham!!!! but YOURE SO RIGHT POLIWAG -> POLITOED EVOLUTION omg they're just a duo 🙏 and. ruki galarian ponyta. oh my god. you're SO RIGHT they're both so pretty it's so real..... whenever he comes around town to buy stuff there's a group of people squealing at him lmfao

oh he does not stand for this injustice!!!!! someone says smth backhanded like "takumi you must be SO glad that your milotic evolved!" and he sees RED. not on his watch!!!!!!!!

he's had ralts ever since he was a tiny shy little kid so they've grown up together and he loves her very much!!!!!!!! it would also work with a gallade we don't discriminate here. but TAKE DOWN IS ALL SUKAI NEEDS!!!!!! when his beldum eventually fully evolves into a hulking behemoth of a metagross capable of more moves he's still fond of a take down LOL. god ren with lopunny.... they're both innocent looking but very much capable of doing some serious damage!!!!! omg. keigo with leavanny would be so much fun.... they spend hours tailoring together.... but also keigo with a jynx!!!!!! god it would be so funny if sho was the nurse joy of this au. BUT THE CHATOT IS SO REAL!!!! i think sho being a pokemon breeder would make sense too he's so prideful of his sweet little espurrs

#asks

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years ago

Text

Darry Curtis x GN Reader- Coping Mechanism

Darry Curtis x Gender Neutral Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

CW: Implied body dysmorphia, depression/feeling of worthlessness. Angst. Reader seeing themselves as “ugly” or “chubby”. If any of these are triggering for you then I would not recommend reading this.

am I projecting a little bit/getting into my feels for this one shot? Yep, absolutely. But I need comfort and I need it now so y’all get to suffer through it with me.

There were many, many things y/n admired about Darry Curtis.

His hugs, his laugh, the way his muscles poked out of the tight shirts he wore. The way his greased-up bangs would fall in front of his face, or how his tongue would poke out slightly whenever he was really focused on something. From the “Good morning, sweetheart” to the “will ya tell the boys to quiet down? I’m tryna read the paper.”

Though it seemed that the line between “admiration” and “jealousy”, was beginning to blur.

Darry was the strongest man Y/n had ever met. Working two jobs, taking care of 2 kid-brothers, rent, meals, all by the age of 20. He’d lost both his parents, given up on his dreams and his childhood, but still somehow managed to keep it up. Everyday.

Which made it truly stand out, how pathetic Y/n truly was.

They had loving parents who raised them to the best of their abilities, a good education, and the average childhood.

Always having a roof over their head, food on the dinner table, and friends who cared for them. They had all they needed.

So why the hell, were they so close to breaking down?

How come anytime they looked in the mirror, the skin on their bones turned to blubber, spilling over the hem of their jeans. The bumps on their face brightening to the shade of a ripened apple, their hair getting greasy and flat only a day after showering.

Textbooks and homework packets piled into a school bag, stretching the straps and pulling on shoulders.

They had no right. Loving parents, loving friends, loving boyfriend.

They had.

No right.

The room was lonely, no one else but the h/c in the Curtis household. Sodapop and Darry had left for work hours ago, Ponyboy stuck in school. Y/n had skipped. Pathetic.

Buried under layers of blankets, wrapped in the cozy material they lay with their cheek pressed into the pillow. It was another “low” day, that’s what they had begun calling it- for they had no other way of describing it. “Low” days and “high” days, self explanatory.

Some days, such as this one, feel low like the skin of their stomach as it droops from their body. Low like their energy, any sort of motivation to even leave the comfort and warmth of Darry’s blankets.

Taking a glance at the clock across the room, y/n watched the hands ticking slowly.

‘16 more minutes…’

…

A couple more ticking noises. They check again.

‘15…’

Much like a dog awaiting its owner, y/n lay impatiently waiting for the eldest Curtis brother to arrive. It was his bed that they were all tangled in, his house. Only thing missing was him.

…

14 more minutes.

With an exasperated groan, they turn away from the clock. Maybe if they didn’t watch, it would happen faster.

Minutes slowly pass by, y/n’s eyelids drooping to a close. A suppressed yawn rumbled in their chest, dragging them closer to sleep until a familiar sound traveled through the house.

A front door rattling against a door frame, heavy boots creaking the floor boards. Y/n turns to the clock once more.

4:00 sharp.

Darry, instead of going straight to his room as y/n hoped, walks toward the shared bathroom in the house. Running water is the next sound that y/n recognizes, the tall man sighing in relief as hot water crashes onto his sweaty body.

He tiredly washes himself, removing the dirt and grime that covered his skin. Grease slipped from his hair, letting it go flat in the small tub as muddy brown water circled the drain. Drops of water settled into the crevices of his muscles, staying there even after he turned off the water and stepped out of the tub.

Quiet hums fill the air, following him through the hallway and down to where his impatient lover awaited him.

He wasn’t expecting to see the bundle of blankets on his bed, let alone a face sticking out of them. “Y/n? Why aren’t you at school.”

Y/n takes a moment to answer, admiring the man’s figure through half lidded eyes. “Didn’t feel like it…” they grumble, and he sighs.

“Ya can’t keep missing school like this…” he scolds, pulling a stray shirt over his head. Y/n groans. “Can ya really consider it school, when you’ve already graduated?”

“They’re extra classes, and they’ll help you get a job one day.” Darry responds, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Y/n doesn’t answer, turning their head away from him.

Pathetic, pathetic…

The lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed, the brunette glancing at his bed through his now free strands of hair. Another sigh escapes him.

He didn’t mean to sound condescending, truly. To him it seemed nothing less than logical to work as hard as possible, sometimes clouding his judgement towards y/n’s lazier coping mechanisms.

They were still undeniably perfect, in his eyes. The body they saw as “odd” or “underwhelmingly too much” was like a beautifully sculpted statue of h/c and s/c colors, to him. Though he had no idea how to share that with them, he knew it was true.

Through closed eyes, y/n hears the padding of feet approaching the bed, feeling someone hover above their figure.

Opening their eyes just a little, the pair’s eyes meet.

“Move over.”

The h/c does as told, rolling to the side, allowing Darry to slip under the covers and join them. His arms wrap around their tired body quickly, skin pressed against each other’s while the droplets of water cool y/n’s body down significantly, and the warmth of their body heating the brunettes’.

Darry rests his forehead against the hair on y/n’s head, trapping said person in his toned arms. His hands run down their sides, settling on their hip, though his thumb continues to trace lines up and down y/n’s skin.

Immediately a strong sense of comfort overwhelms them, the moment they’d been waiting for since he left that morning finally coming to embrace them.

“Go to bed, sweetheart. I ain’t going nowhere..”

#The outsiders #gender neutral reader #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #The outsiders angst #The outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagines

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shurisneakers · 3 years ago

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.”

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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soul-controller · 3 years ago

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Hi, I'm a very small old man. Recently I've been troubled by my young bodybuilder neighbor being rude to me. I don't think he deserves that big muscle, so can you transfer this young man's muscle and height to me? I want to teach him how to be 'polite' to an old man.

The Old Dog's New Trick

Sitting there gardening in the front yard of your house, you groan as you hear footsteps approaching. Nick was the hotshot young bodybuilder that was living a few doors down from your house, and to your annoyance, he loved to taunt you. Despite having no stable career and still living at home with his parents’, Nick’s ego had grown to incredible proportions as his body inflated with muscle. By the time he entered his first bodybuilding competition when he was 18, he believed that he was the king of the world. Being that you were an older man who clearly wasn’t as gifted in terms of muscles, he got off on taunting you in your weaker state. Approaching, the man was completely shirtless and wearing only a set of grey athletic shorts and a cocky wide grin.

Trying your best to ignore him, you continue to tend to your flowers while the shadow of his bulky frame above you blocks the heat of the afternoon sun. “How sad, an old man left with no friends but some ugly flowers…” he says, his hearty chuckle causing you to roll your eyes in frustration. “What do you want today Nick?” you ask, attempting to ignore his shady comments and get to the point of his visit. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanting to show off what a real man looks like to a wrinkling old fart like you!” he retorts, his voice dripping in pure unbridled cockiness. Despite your best intentions to ignore him and remain calm, he continues to taunt you and demand you turn to face him.

But as he moves his thick hand towards your shoulder, your body twists surprisingly fast as your older hand grasps around his wrist. Gasping in annoyance, the man attempts to pull away, but he suddenly finds himself unable to pull away. Looking up towards him, an annoyed look of disgust manifests on your face as you take in the bulky vision of the man. “You don’t deserve those muscles. You’re just a pathetic weak little man deep down…” you say, gritting your teeth as you feel pure rage coursing through your veins.

“Fuck you gramps, get your hands off of me!” he cries out, attempting to free himself from the iron-clad grasp you have on him. Looking down at your arm, Nick stares in disbelief as he watches your weathered skin begin to inflate with muscle as his quickly deflates in response. “Holy shit man, let me go! I’m sorry!” Nick cries out, but you’re refusing to loosen your grip. You wanted to teach him a lesson in the best way possible, so as he continued to freak out as his muscles dwindled and yours began to stretch the limits of your shirts, you knew that he was getting his just desserts.

With his arms becoming pencil-thin and his pectorals deflated until he’s completely flat-chested, you’re in complete awe as the inverse happens to you. Feeling your body fill up with such power and strength is incredibly alluring, which leaves you eager to continue the muscle drain. Staring at his exposed torso, you can’t help but grin devilishly at the man as his abs sink deep within his body and manifest onto your body instead. By this point, the man’s broad stance had been condensed inward, which only further showcased his flat torso and quickly-shrinking body. Still laying on the ground, you watched as your view of Nick grew closer as you grew taller and he shrank in height.

By the time the height had finished swapping between the two of you, the transformation had completed as your legs had exploded in muscle and replaced the former thick and flabby thighs you once had. Loosening your grip, you chuckled at the scrawny man who now looked quite strange while shirtless. “Looks like someone needs to respect their elders huh?” you said, a deep bellowing laugh intimidating the former bodybuilder to the point where he ran off crying back to his parents’ house.

Unfortunately for Nick, by the time he got home, reality had been partially warped to fit Nick’s new appearance. Instead of being an aspiring bodybuilder, Nick’s new life was that of a slacker. Having dropped out of college and moving back home, he was stuck in a dead-end job in retail that completely drained him of his joy. While Nick retained all of his memories about who he used to be, his parents had their memories altered to match their new reality. Instead of joy and encouragement about their son pursuing his passions, they now felt intense shame and disappointment in their failure of a child.

As Nick began to obsess over the older man who had stolen his muscles and rewritten his life, his family felt incredible disgust as they perceived the reason to be that their son had a daddy kink. Despite their best intentions to help sway him to find people of his own age bracket, they always found Nick going back to their older neighbor down the street. While they assumed that their child was being fucked by the buff older man, the reality of the situation was quite different.

Heading over to your house once a week, Nick couldn’t help but miss the muscles and life that were stolen from him. As a result, you made a deal with him that allowed him to come over and worship the muscles that were rightfully taken away from him. If he continued to do this, you vowed to give him back some of his muscles, but in reality you had no intention of ever doing this. To you, this was just another way of furthering his humiliation. Just a weak twig of a man appreciating the muscles of a real man, a man who had always deserved them...

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to read more stories and support my work.

#request story #muscle theft #punishment #male transformation

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hopeandvolleyball · 4 years ago

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insecure boys pt.1

genre: angst if you squint, fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: food, weight insecurities in osamus

w/ osamu, atsumu

osamu miya

osamu had gotten home from work a little more than an hour ago, and he figured he’d been spending that entire time looking at the mirror, pinching the newfound softness piling onto his tummy. he’s been squeezing and kneading the flesh for so long it was turning red. lips twisted to the side, osamu sighed. when did he gain this much weight? how did he let this happen? osamu could barely look at himself in the mirror without feeling ugly and ashamed. mumbling under his breath he pulled a looser hoodie over his head, grateful it wasn’t starting to become tight around his middle.

you called his name from the kitchen, an indicator dinner was ready. in all honesty he didn’t feel like going out there, the idea of eating making him nauseous. but he still entered the living room, unable to fully wipe the crestfallen look off his face. even seeing your bubbly frame and pretty smile in the kitchen couldn’t fully heal him from his insecure thoughts clouding his mind. setting the utensils down, you ran up to hug osamu, arms around his waist. he surpressed the urge to push your arms down, not wanting you to feel his plush stomach. your eyes looked at him with pure adoration, sparkles and hearts swimming in your irises. osamu placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“dinner will be ready in a few minutes, just gotta plate it and stuff,” you informed him, sounding so giddy. “might not look as pretty as when you make it but-”

“’bout that. ‘m not really hungry, darlin. ate a bit too much while at the shop today,” he lied not smoothly. he felt the familiar nausea creep back up his throat. he felt even worse at the frown tugging at the sides of your lips.

“you’re a bad liar, samu,” you commented, hands on your hips. “what’s wrong love? talk to me, please?” you pleaded. osamu knew he couldn’t keep it in anymore, not from you. it wasn’t fair. his stoic expression began to soften and quiver.

“when did i let myself go?” osamu asked, his voice starting to break. your brows furrowed and lips curled into a pout. you pulled him close to you, slipping your fingers through his dark brown locks as he held on to you with all the force he had.

“what on earth are you talking about, samu?” you inquired as he squeezed you tighter.

“’m fat, darlin,” he whimpered. “i hate lookin’ at myself in the mirror and i don’t know why yer still with me.” that broke your heart, you heart it shatter into a hundred pieces as he spoke. you opened your mouth to speak but he continued. you decided it best to let him rant. “every day ya see ‘tsumu and i can’t help but thinkin’ ye’d want a guy like that. i used to be that and i’m so disappointed-”

“lovebug you own a restaurant,” you determined with a flat expression. osamu blinked, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes disappearing.

“yeah. i know that. what does-”

“so its natural for you to gain weight if your working with food consistently,” you cut him off again. “do you think i expected a good chef to be completely cut? no i didn’t. besides, you wear the weight well.” osamu blinked.

“ye noticed?” he tilted his head to the side.

“of course i did. i never said anything because i didn’t care. you look just as good, if not better, because the added weight means i’m taking care of you. that i’m treating you well.” you leaned up to kiss his temple. “if you want to lose the weight fine, samu. but i’m upset you’d do it by not eating. i want you to be safe and healthy, okay?” your hand caressed his cheek, drenched with newly found tears. “oh samu, i’m sorry-”

“yer fine darlin,” he sniffled, smiling brightly for the first time that day. “thank ya. i love ya more than i could ever tell ya.”

“i love you too osamu,” you kissed his lips sweetly. “now come on you need to eat.” dinner went by just fine, your eyes on him the entire time to be sure he ate his fill, watching him smile and hum after each bite. you loved osamu so much and you wanted to make sure he knew that. after dinner you relocated to the couch, his head finding its sweet spot on your lap. your hand smoothed over his abdomen, rubbing it affectionately. he hummed again.

“‘m gonna fall asleep if ya keep doin that,” osamu mumbled against the fabric of your pants. you giggled.

“do it. you’ve had a long day, samu. get some sleep lovebug. i love you so much,” you gave his sides a pat. osamu hummed again, mumbling affections under his breath as he doze off into a gentle slumber.

atsumu miya

you waited in the living room of your shared apartment for atsumu to return home from practice. scrolling through your phone with boredom etched into your features until the front door creaked open. with bright eyes your head tilted up to see atsumu in the doorway, kicking off his shoes with a sigh. not an extra loud one like usual, which didn’t instantly tip you off. still, your lips pulled in the brightest grin possible.

“welcome back tsumu! i missed you,” you beamed with a giggle. but all you were met with was a dismissive hum from atsumu. frowning you watched him set his volleyball bag on the table and head out to shower. okay. guess he was having a bad day today. nothing atsumu miya’s loving girlfriend couldn’t fix! pulling out your phone you ordered his favorite from his favorite takeout restaurant, waiting for him to finish showering. your knee bounced in impatience, but that all changed once atsumu emerged from his shower, drying his hair with no shirt and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “hey! i ordered your favorite, i figured you could use it. you look like you’ve had a rough day.” you smiled softly. all atsumu did was nod.

“thanks,” was his curt reply. now you were a mix of hurt and confused and upset. what did you do? why was he being so distant? was it because you forgot to text him the picture of the dog you saw during your break? or the fact that you forgot to cook the asparagus he wanted before it went bad? what was wrong with your boyfriend. he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. pouting you followed behind him, poking his side enough to annoy him enough to look over at you.

“okay atsumu miya. what’s wrong with you?” you demanded, arms crossing under your chest, cheeks puffed up. “usually you walk into this apartment and talk my ear off about anything and everything that happened at practice and today i’m met with absolute radio silence? what’s with that?” atsumu’s brow quivered and he turned to you with dark eyes.

“sorry that ‘m annoyin and wanna fix my behavior so ya don’t fuckin’ leave me,” atsumu spat, returning to his water glass. your expression fell and you felt your heart sink.

“what?” was your broken reply. and of course atsumu didn’t respond. “tsumu talk to me please, what’s gotten into you?”

“omi called me annoyin’ today, which ain’t unusual, but he said if i didn’t get my act together ye’d leave me,” atsumu shifted awkwardly, staring at his reflection in the water. you frowned and placed your hands gently on atsumu’s hips, staring up at him.

“honey, no, i’d never leave you,” you cooed. “yeah you’re loud and obnoxious-”

“not helpin’ y/n.”

“but that’s part of your charm. you always manage to have something to say and i’m always here to listen. you never make things boring. and i love that about you. i love hearing how excited you get when you talk about your day, or the frustrated lilt in your tone when you complain about people not hitting your sets.”

“because my sets are perfect!” he spoke up, voice louder than it had been all day and had an offended squeak at the end of it.

“there’s my tsumu,” you sighed sweetly. “there’s my sweet baby. kiyoomi’s full of it. i’d never leave you for something as trivial about how much you talk. now cmon. how about we have dinner and you can tell me about your day, hm?” atsumu’s eyes were bright and he nodded like a sweet golden retriever.

“and then bo-kun kept missing my sets. my sets! then he got all mopey and pouty ‘bout it and i was like dude get a grip,” atsumu rolled his eyes around a mouth full of food, causing you to giggle. “he got his shit together eventually but damn it was so annoying. and don’t get me started on omi omi...” sighing sweetly you couldn’t help but stare at your over excitable boyfriend. listening to him ramble about his day was the best part about him coming home.

#osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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